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rig Apr 30
i am subway air;
my undergroundness apparent in your lungs
your runningaway
         your eyes i forgetᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ
and my family of trains and
   silence.
ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᶦ ᵃᵐ.

i don’t take after the transportation: i am poised poison
and my hands hold all the words i have
ever opened my mouth forᵈᶦʳᵗᶜʰᵒᵏᵉᶜᵒᵘᵍʰᵍᵃˢᵖ.

but i dance, too. everywhere. in everyone.
places and people who are not youᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵘⁿᵈ.
i can’t help it. i have no choice.
they are here, and…

and when i am tired: i stop and just am.
for however long it takes my memory to paint
something small and heavy
the lines of past decisions
the shadows of living trees
in a forest of dead ones
the shapes of a thought i once had
the color of that moment
ⁿᵒⁿᵉ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐʸ ᵉʸᵉˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉᵈ
the movement of that glimpse
of infinite imagination that i
once made my religion.
once.

then: i stop stopping. i wake up from nosleep.
i look around and i cannot find you.

⁽ᵃ ᵗʳᵃᶦⁿ ᶜʳᵃˢʰᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᶜᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᶦⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿ ᶦᵗ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶦˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ⁾

…ʰᵉˡˡᵒˀ
Stevie Ray Dec 2020
"Found in the harmony between the kick and the snare"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2YI9CSJESw
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
DIY AI
Do It Yourself
Act Inteleostical

aim at fame, take the blame
aim at shame, hide and watch

aim at games no mind can matter in,
hope to hell that you are right,

roll the bones…

let the story form the world we agree upon,
stand, bipedally biased to lieve be
the balance factor in terms
of fear being a reason
to respond,
in one way, or another, knowing now

time is all together different than imagined,
not long ago,
on a little think… we know the journey story,
did we
really live so far from the center?
It seems so,
from where I stand, unembodied in another
reconnected to the story,
a book's worth of time, stretched to thinnistical
translucence,
sparks we imagine having seen as signals slow
to
geo speed, Gaia mind, ****** - that
sensation of ever mattering
just now,
for a moment, then

now, again, similar but never the same,
riverish as any wish one tests
again, after ever has began
to play in the per-ifery.
Ifery is the enjoyable realm of right now. Time seems senseless. Peace feels like this, like a massive stone that roads and rivers and winds go around, or over, never under.
Michael R Burch Sep 2020
Mehmet Akif Ersoy: Modern English Translations of Turkish Poems

Mehmet Âkif Ersoy (1873-1936) was a Turkish poet, author, writer, academic, member of parliament, and the composer of the Turkish National Anthem.

Snapshot
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Earth’s least trace of life cannot be erased;
even when you lie underground, it encompasses you.
So, those of you who anticipate the shadows,
how long will the darkness remember you?



Zulmü Alkislayamam
"I Can’t Applaud Tyranny"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I can't condone cruelty; I will never applaud the oppressor;
Yet I can't renounce the past for the sake of deluded newcomers.
When someone curses my ancestors, I want to strangle them,
Even if you don’t.
But while I harbor my elders,
I refuse to praise their injustices.
Above all, I will never glorify evil, by calling injustice “justice.”
From the day of my birth, I've loved freedom;
The golden tulip never deceived me.
If I am nonviolent, does that make me a docile sheep?
The blade may slice, but my neck resists!
When I see someone else's wound, I suffer a great hardship;
To end it, I'll be whipped, I'll be beaten.
I can't say, “Never mind, just forget it!” I'll mind,
I'll crush, I'll be crushed, I'll uphold justice.
I'm the foe of the oppressor, the friend of the oppressed.
What the hell do you mean, with your backwardness?



Çanakkale Sehitlerine
"For the Çanakkale Martyrs"
by Mehmet Akif Ersoy
loose English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Was there ever anything like the Bosphorus war?―
The earth’s mightiest armies pressing Marmara,
Forcing entry between her mountain passes
To a triangle of land besieged by countless vessels.
Oh, what dishonorable assemblages!
Who are these Europeans, come as rapists?
Who, these braying hyenas, released from their reeking cages?
Why do the Old World, the New World, and all the nations of men
now storm her beaches? Is it Armageddon? Truly, the whole world rages!
Seven nations marching in unison!
Australia goose-stepping with Canada!
Different faces, languages, skin tones!
Everything so different, but the mindless bludgeons!
Some warriors Hindu, some African, some nameless, unknown!
This disgraceful invasion, baser than the Black Death!
Ah, the 20th century, so noble in its own estimation,
But all its favored ones nothing but a parade of worthless wretches!
For months now Turkish soldiers have been vomited up
Like stomachs’ retched contents regarded with shame.
If the masks had not been torn away, the faces would still be admired,
But the ***** called civilization is far from blameless.
Now the ****** demand the destruction of the doomed
And thus bring destruction down on their own heads.
Lightning severs horizons!
Earthquakes regurgitate the bodies of the dead!
Bombs’ thunderbolts explode brains,
rupture the ******* of brave soldiers.
Underground tunnels writhe like hell
Full of the bodies of burn victims.
The sky rains down death, the earth swallows the living.
A terrible blizzard heaves men violently into the air.
Heads, eyes, torsos, legs, arms, chins, fingers, hands, feet...
Body parts rain down everywhere.
Coward hands encased in armor callously scatter
Floods of thunderbolts, torrents of fire.
Men’s chests gape open,
Beneath the high, circling vulture-like packs of the air.
Cannonballs fly as frequently as bullets
Yet the heroic army laughs at the hail.
Who needs steel fortresses? Who fears the enemy?
How can the shield of faith not prevail?
What power can make religious men bow down to their oppressors
When their stronghold is established by God?
The mountains and the rocks are the bodies of martyrs!...
For the sake of a crescent, oh God, many suns set, undone!
Dear soldier, who fell for the sake of this land,
How great you are, your blood saves the Muslims!
Only the lions of Bedr rival your glory!
Who then can dig the grave wide enough to hold you. and your story?
If we try to consign you to history, you will not fit!
No book can contain the eras you shook!
Only eternities can encompass you!...
Oh martyr, son of the martyr, do not ask me about the grave:
The prophet awaits you now, his arms flung wide open, to save!

Keywords/Tags: Ersoy, Turk, Turkish, translation, earth, world, life, death, grave, underground, shadows, darkness, remember, remembrance, memory, tyranny, cruelty, oppressor, oppressed, ancestors, elders, injustice, injustices, evil, justice, martyrs, mrbtran
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Melting
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Entirely, as spring consumes the snow,
the thought of you consumes me: I am found
in rivulets, dissolved to what I know
of former winters’ passions. Underground,
perhaps one slender icicle remains
of what I was before, in some dark cave—
a stalactite, long calcified, now drains
to sodden pools whose milky liquid laves
the colder rock, thus washing something clean
that never saw the light, that never knew
the crust could break above, that light could stream:
so luminous,
                       so bright,
                                         so beautiful . . .
I lie revealed, and so I stand transformed,
and all because you smiled on me, and warmed.

Keywords/Tags: spring, melting, snow, winter, icicle, stalactite, underground, cave, transformation, love, warmth
rig Feb 2020
back to the end of
summers and school innocence,
the sun sets upward.
Chris Slade Feb 2020
It’s a dystopian gloom and doom saga...
Also you may notice I’m still crusading for Littlehampton to feature on the world stage.

(and btw… I do know that US presidents only get
to have two terms of office… But, like most world leaders…
we never let the truth get in the way of a good story).

You know what’s coming doncha?
It’s not the end of the world (yet) but…
slowly and, as with all evolutionary stuff,
things are changing - and I for one… Well, I’ve had enough!
But you do know what’s coming doncha?

Like a glacier melts and the oceans rise.
and the maps change shape and,
unfortunately, also each country’s size.
The scary cry goes out…
‘we’ll have to move to higher ground’.
And it ain’t just Shoreham, Worthing or LA
(that’s Littlehampton) It’s EVERY worldwide coastal town!
You know what’s coming don’tcha

Yeh!…It’s official folks - Littlehampton IS a world class coastal town!

On another but very related matter - Social media…
That’s developing apace. cyber chatter! Not face 2 face!
It helps spell the future for the whole human race.
We can chat, chew the fat and generally carry on communication.
with pretty much everyone in every first world nation.
Of course - You can see what’s coming can’tcha?

Even Boris’s next election win and Trump’s 3rd term
could be voted for on-line. Press one for a **** - 2 for a clone…
And evil dictatorial leaders can be rubbed out by drone…
Now you just might think that’s fine,
but the terrorists will lash back - (back/slash, the swine)
and come stalking down your street…
with machetes and suicide vests - real ones this time -
looking for your hatch, your subterranean retreat…
Cos we won’t be living on it but below the street!
You can see what’s coming can’tcha?

Yeh, we’ll be, underground, overground (Stop it!)
yeh… under that dryer, higher ground
and still be in be touch and on the ball so,
with food & stuff grown by hydroponics (naughty).
padded out by UBER drone delivered Just Eats.
We ARE preparing for Armageddon.
Drone warfare will also cure the need for extermination
nation on nation skirmishes… Just Sweet!
So you do know what’s coming don’tcha?

Yep… cast your mind way forward a decade or two…
There’ll be Amazon drones dropping goods for you;
the things you want  - your culinary needs
Dry Goods… rice, noodles, seeds.
Spices (for the very rich) - and freeze dried veg
and, if you are really wealthy, and for you life’s not on the edge
the city’s centralised, homogenised cooking crews
The takeaway kings… the Just Eats & the Deliveroos.
They’ll still be at it!
And you can see what’s coming can’tcha?

You might think that’s a good thing yeah,
well maybe! But, if we all start living underground…
to get away from the blizzards and the scorching wind(s).
The Summer Hot hot… The winter Not not - yeh sub zero,
that’ll be the only way to stay in touch
no more roaming… (that’ll still be extra).
Just as well because the latest proliferating virus
makes messaging just as popular as face to face or phoning.
And you do know what’s coming don’tcha?

Things are going to be SOooo... different in our not so Brave New World…
Talk about alternative. We’ll ALL be ‘Underground’…
but not because we’re ‘Hip’ or Hippy… Or even happy…
but, because above ground just ain’t where you’ll want to live.
and then… The doubters will shape up…
A toss is suddenly something they’ll rapidly give!
NOW…you DO know it’s coming don’tcha?

You’re gonna need Armour for Armageddon!
neth jones Sep 2019
This generation knows only darkness
and sleeps on its back

the sleeper windmills violence in upon
it’s own sensory plate
                                       (the turbulence of
                                        fit-fusion
           ­                             and shapeless
                                        mood based dreams)

                
protest whine

offence

a life less of assurance
awaiting instruction

bore
froth
tend
endurance

Days are no fun
played out underground

A Mole baring task-force
A clunder

Muscle beings
reading the darkness

              

Tales held of the higher plane
an existence firm upon the roof terrain

Once a thriving insistence
ocular culture and unpushed air

This is what came to the generation
of post surface availability

              

The Moles are quaked
they raise in hunch
reach out for their boots and tools
begin the awake shift
Notes of The Post Apocalyptic Underground
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