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Max Neumann Feb 2020
as we escaped reality
within boundless lands

where the golem lives!
where the golem lives!

as we tried to make it
finally finna don't fake it

and as we entered our land
secretly; always warm

where the golem lives!
where the golem lives!

an infinite loophole
children adults and groups

it had never been too late
we had never gone that far

where the golem lives!
where the golem lives!
where the golem lives!
where the golem lives!
Today is a good day.
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Earthbound,
and yet I now fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that no sound
echoing by
below where the mountains are lifting
the sky
can be heard.

Like a bird,
but not meek,
like a hawk from a distance regarding its prey,
I will shriek,
not a word,
but a screech,
and my terrible clamor will turn them to clay—
the sheep,
the earthbound.

*

Tashunka Witko of the Lakota Sioux, better known as Crazy Horse, had a vision of a red-tailed hawk at Sylvan Lake, South Dakota. In his vision he saw himself riding a spirit horse, flying through a storm, as the hawk flew above him, shrieking. When he awoke, a red-tailed hawk was perched near his horse.

Published by American Indian Pride and Boston Poetry Magazine



"We Came Together" was written as song lyrics for New Zealand composer David Hamilton.

We Came Together
by Michael R. Burch

We came together – people of two lands
so unalike, at first, we hardly knew
how to be friends. We went to war, and drew

lines in the sand. And yet the sky was blue
for everyone, and big enough to share.
We came together, and our friendships grew.

We had to learn to share the selfsame air,
to find the path to harmony,
to find some common ground and let peace bloom.
We came together and we gave hope room

to blossom in our hearts. We learned to be
together in our common destiny.

We come together – people of many lands
so unalike, at first, and now we know
how to be friends.

Keywords/Tags: song, song lyrics, music, composer, diversity, understanding, tolerance, common ground, multiracial, friends, friendship



We Come Together, Holding Hands (I)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it’s what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it’s what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch



We Come Together, Holding Hands (II)
by Michael R. Burch

We come together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We come together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We come together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

The time is right. The time is now.
We come together, knowing how
the world depends on us to know
the only time to love is now.

Earthbound,
and yet we fly
through the clouds that are aimlessly drifting ...
so high
that all our songs
that echo where mountains stand lifting
the sky…
can be heard.

We sing together, holding hands,
the children of so many lands;
it's what the day demands.

We sing together, seeking peace,
intent of love, our hearts at ease.
We sing together, seeking peace;
it's what the day decrees.

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch



i wrote a giddy little song
by michael r. burch

i wrote a giddy little song,
which u can dance to, all night long;
i wrote a giddy little poem,
it’ll tempt a smile, like sea foam;
i wrote a giddy little line,
it’ll tease a laugh, like a dandelion;
I wrote a song and took the trouble,
it’ll make u smile, like a soap bubble;
i wrote this giddy bit of fluff,
now dance to it, get off ur duff!

Copyright © 2023 by Michael R. Burch
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Sioux Vision Quest
by Crazy Horse, Oglala Lakota Sioux, circa 1840-1877
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A man must pursue his Vision
as the eagle explores
the sky's deepest blues.

Originally published by The HyperTexts
Max Neumann Feb 2020
"i have been suffering under a loss. can you help me?"


"ain't no big deal you gotta pass avenue h
then you have to make a left to reach starbucks

when you're standing in front of it
move your head to the right and focus the end of the block you'll spot a lantern

(not the one with the rectangular shape but
the one that looks like a strange cone; mind that difference my man)

yeah
and when you have reached that lantern
you walk 25 blocks to catch a ride

ain't no cab i need you to look out for a gipsy car ridden by a female driver

(can't tell you why now would be too early and will be explained later on the phone)

hand out $ 7.000,00 to the driver and tell her to take you to emigration oaks; that's close to salt lake city in utah (never ever try to get there by plane my man)

after you'll have arrived you gotta dial a certain number –– 1-800-reveal-a-secret –– 
and listen to a voice you have been fearing

its message will be relating to you personally

let everything go
show courage
become yourself

one year later smile about your former life.

do you understand that?"
Today is a good day.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2020
a prozoic flavor mod:

It's 2020 vision,

mine. In my real, a robot named, by default, Bob,
is sweeping my floors,
not vacuuming,
I stand corrected,

Bob is a sweeper, not a sucker.

This is day five of my making note
of impressions,
buttons pushed,

on me, as Bob's illtimedwaking sent me into
startle response
overload,

until I remembered, this is 2020.
I survived until the future.
I have taken on a year long project of paying attention each day, to parts of life that seem perfect for life as a whole, and me particularly. So far, far more than HP could stand, in terms of lines upon lines. I'm reading little and commenting less, but your eyes preserve me, dear reader, thank you.
Max Neumann Feb 2020
the repetition of a repetition
is
the repetition of a repetition
is
the repetition of a repetition
is
the repetition of a repetition
is
the repetition of a repetition
is
the repetition of a repetition

which means:

doing drugs daily
being trapped on the quest
for the first high
YouTube: "Beautiful Relaxing Music for Stress Relief • Meditation Music, Sleep Music, Ambient Study Music"

There's help: Unprejudiced and for free:

www.aa.org
www.na.org
www.ca.org

Today is a good day.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
belongingness: what does this word mean?

i would explain to my son that belongingness is something you can't touch but feel.
eden, my daughter, would get a kiss.

for many years i was looking for people i could belong to; i was on a quest. and this quest went along with fears and doubts. this quest was ******* the energy out of my mind and out of my soul...

how did this quest began, though? on a strange day, i was asked a very intimate question by a professor; a professor whose background i'm aware of; she asked me:

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

her question came out of nowhere. she blindsided me.
therefore, i wasn't prepared for an answer that could have satisfied her; regardless what my past really is about.

at this point of my life i wasn't aware about my ancestors; but the professor's questions caused me to become it.

"do you have a religious or a political past?"

i do know about my past now; but the answer i gave this lady was not sufficient for her. by the end of our conversation she said:

"i am sorry. can't shake your hand now. have to go toilet."

that was it. oh my, was i disappointed and frustrated; because this certain lady would have opened many doors for me; doors for which she administrated the keys.

you know, there are days in your life that want to you to be desperate. and yes: i was desperate. about being rejected. and that i wasn't able to have access to dorrs that lead to important conferences, meetings and to important people.

but you know what? it doesn't matter anymore.

because here, on hellopoetry, i have found a place of belogningness.
and what my real past is will remain hid: a secret in a purple-colored casket i have the key to.

hellopoetry is a place of belongingness. not just for me but for many many kind-hearted people. and i am not stating this from an opportunist's view: i can feel you guys here and sometimes i sense kindred spirits.
I am very grateful to all of you.

Thank you, Eliot York.
Thank you, poets and thank you readers.

YouTube: "Mogwai - Guns Down"

Today is a good day.
Khai Dec 2019
Sunset may be stunning,
But darkness sets in after it
Roses may be alluring
But their thorns could cut a finger tip.
Butterflies may signify beauty,
But their lives wither like a whirlwind.

But stars shine brighter when darkness comes,
Roses have petals where you could lay your thumbs.
And a butterfly's short life is where it truly lived.

Life gives us these tasks,
To find beauty beneath the frightening mask.
To anticipate the dawn after a gloomy dusk.
To wander and wonder, to seek and to ask.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
people who do something excessively:

shopping
smoking
drug-abusing
having ***
and many more actions

are on a quest.

sooner or later, some of these people discover something much bigger.

something that balances their
minds and hearts.
TODAY IS A GOOD DAY.
KEEP COMING BACK!
Chandra S Nov 2019
There are
standard connotations
of ubiquitous love:
...******,
...religious,
...platonic
and now electronic!

They
usually take us away
from the home base
and we are lost
in the mores
of colourful
or colourless
(but elusive nevertheless)
illusions...
of gods,...
of heroes
or simply pictures of people
we have met on the internet.

We do not understand it
for if we did
we would cease to seek.

...that the seeker might be the sought
and that no wars need be fought
for that which can be
calmly identified on the inside -
- is something we repetitively miss
and while we all magically have it,
it is in and through the other
that we ignorantly solicit
our abiding congenital bliss.
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