There's dirt underneath me.
I walk around lost in my body.

A neon zombie.
Through the night.
Neon zombie through the night holding a magic light.
As a guide.

But Everything is aching.
Everything is falling.
And the neon zombie is crawling.
And when it can run, it runs off into space.
Lasers coming from its eyes in a daze.

Although it knows where it belongs and it's not in this body.
Dirt underneath a body.
All around here now and inside of me.
Help, I'm wandering in the space that's left for me not walking freely.

There's dirt underneath me.
I walk around lost in my body.

Still walk neon zombie.
You are never comfy.
With your neon face staring into space.
Before you enter.
Unexpected but always from the centre.

Can I still walk with you, or should I just wait?
So tired of being lost facing this closed gate. (it's closed)
Walking only kills the time and burns away the need and desire.
To not be on fire.

All the time killing time in a tunnel where all babies should die.
And I know why.
It's getting late and it's getting dark.
So sleep before the neon lights spark.

we sat in empty parking lots
and watched the ferris wheel
talking about how
we were once
on top of the world

and now at the bottom

exiting the ride
but still syncing
our heartbeats
to the neon lights

Dancer
by Michael R. Burch

You will never change;
you range,
investing passion in the night,
waltzing through
a blinding blue,
immaculate and fabled light.

Do not despair
or wonder where
the others of your race have fled.
They left you here
to gin and beer
and won't return till you are bled

of fantasy
and piety,
of brewing passion like champagne,
of storming through
without a clue,
but finding answers fall like rain.

They left.
You laughed,
but now you sigh
for ages,
stages
slipping by.

You pause;
applause
is all you hear.
You dance,
askance,
as drunkards cheer.

Keywords/Tags: dancer, waltz, waltzing, applause, drink, drunkards, neon light, strobe, flash, flashing, crystal ball, chandelier, lap dancer, exotic dancer, stripper, peeler, strip, striptease artist, burlesque, Moulin Rogue, dance, passion, champagne, gin, beer

In-Flight Convergence
by Michael R. Burch

serene, almost angelic
the lights of the city                 extend
over lumbering behemoths
shrilly screeching displeasure
they say:
that nothing is certain
that nothing man dreams or ordains
long endures his command

here the streetlights that flicker
and those blazing steadfast
seem one                                   from a distance
descend?
they abruptly
part                      ways

so that nothing is one
which at times does not suddenly blend
into garish insignificance
in the familiar alleyways
in the white neon flash
and the billboards of convenience

and man seems the afterthought of his own brilliance
as we thunder down the enlightened runways

Keywords/Tags: city, lights, streetlights, neon, signs, billboards, trucks, traffic, runways, landing, jet, plane, airplane, brakes, screeching, alleys, alleyways

The City Is a Garment
by Michael R. Burch

A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light,—
the city is a garment stretched so thin
her neon colors bleed into the night,
and everywhere bright seams, unraveling,

cascade their brilliant contents out like coins
on motorways and esplanades; bead cars
come tumbling down long highways; at her groin
a railtrack like a zipper flashes sparks;

her hills are haired with brush like cashmere wool
and from their cleavage winking lights enlarge
and travel, slender fingers ... softly pull
themselves into the semblance of a barge.

When night becomes too chill, she quickly dons
great overcoats of warmest-colored dawn.

Published by The Lyric, Sonnetto Poesia, Poetry Life & Times, The Eclectic Muse, Freshet, Better Than Starbucks, Jar of Quotes and Verse Weekly

Keywords/Tags: City, rhinestone, garment, neon, colors, night, bright, lights, cars, highways, motorways, railroads, sparks, hills, river, barges, boats

gathering lime
watermelon lit clouds fall
in neon rain