#heavens
I was still grieving on the unfinished letter that sits in a corner where I promised not to look back; I know, I'll be scathing, mending but the thread of fates stirred up that faith.
You know that I'll give everything, through those cracks where I can't see myself, hiding behind the constellations, and then it becomes a body.
Do you still see me? do you still adore me? If heavens were to console me, it only wished to be with you.
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 10:49 AM UTC
We’re all taking a lesson called “life,” and so did the desks behind us.
They shift, they move—so that we learn, obtain the knowledge, support each other.
Some remain, and so we call it “love.”
Those who do not shall still find their place.
For there is a place for everyone in this endless classroom.
For now, we sit in the front row, yet soon we may find ourselves at the back of someone else’s classroom.
Yet still, we will find our place—as they should too.
And if nobody stays, remember:
Father is behind your back.
He stays. For He remembers you. He holds
your heart from a heartbreak, what feels as if it could break you.
Do not worry, for He is near.
Let go, for we are all still learning.
And with love and kindness toward one another,
here we are in “life,” a lesson of our own.
For if you do good to people,
then thou shalt be with Him, unafraid.
And if you send paper planes from your desk—
planes of glory, not sorrow—
then thy name shall be preached in heaven.
Thus, you should teach the desk beneath you
with care and love for one another,
for Father has called it “holy.”
For you will see the puzzled tiles—
turning, shifting in all directions,
separate, confusing at the beginning of the journey—
yet resolving into light, called “His merciful glory.”
And into a single image, clear—
the one from the heavens,
for people called it “peace.”
And within that painting—everything:
your soul, your purpose—everything.
For it is called “your Father’s journey”—heavens.
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 3:22 AM UTC
knee-jerk companion
-a twitching leg
constantly talking
without thought.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 7:34 AM UTC
I’m convinced you hold an Empyrean once unstirred in me.
Flowers whisper with each smile, “What a hallowed numen you bear.”
Seeds strain upward, desperate to glimpse you,
bending in accord as I urge, run away with me.
Blind to the brilliance that blooms within you,
I stand in quiet wonder, heart bound to your orbit.
Even the petals of night open when you pass,
yet you walk as though the heavens were not your own.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 12:26 AM UTC
He said my name like an oath.
I said his like a war cry.
We met in the ruins of reason,
and built something holier from chaos.
He wore the moon in his eyes;
silver light and tides that pulled me under.
I gave him the sun,
burned my hands just to keep him warm.
We weren't star-crossed,
we were conjured.
Some cruel myth breathed us alive,
then turned its back and laughed.
We stole time from the fates.
Danced in Hades’ garden,
bathed in river Styx,
stuck out our tongues
as the gods crossed their arms.
He held my soul in his teeth
like a prayer too sacred to swallow.
And when the sky cracked,
we didn’t flinch.
We were the storm and the silence,
the prophecy and the curse.
Let the poets argue if it was love.
Let the priests deny it with trembling hands.
Let the world remember -
we are unforgiven
for making the heavens jealous.
May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 11:01 AM UTC
Trees silent and still its sufferings strange
But happening below unseen who knows
From electrons to cells to worms and moles
Its cries heard in the depths of earth
Its agonies pain the highest heavens
All life reached and touched and soothed
Its griefs mutually shared and resounded
And heavens weepingly reassure in every tear
That evil judged and nothing's futile
Greater yet the glory surpassing the beauty
In every branch, leaf, flower and fruit
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 5:06 AM UTC
I was listening to roller skating tunes.
Yes, I am shallow, sir.
And though thou may say villainess or mistress,
I am content to be who I am.
One noon, we were over dull
and our hearts we serviced
like two thieves there
in the kissing place
where breaths are both as one
and the first of many kisses doubles.
He made vows in mine ear.
He has such hands and lips
and his fortunate nature fed mine eyes
oh, nothing was scarce.
Our horns locked together
with the intensest chutzpah
and we well-made our match.
We sparked feelings we all ascribe to heaven.
I would not tell you
I can serve a man
that by slow designs
men can melt.
He swore oaths
and dropped
half won.
Later he paid
the sweetest
after-debts
—he did owe it.
.
.
songs for this:
Find Me the Pulse of the Universe by Laetitia Sadier
Stormy (Bossa Mix) by S-Tone Inc
Feb 19, 2025
Feb 19, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC
She is the verse the heavens sing,
Adorned in red, a royal thing,
A vision cast in twilight's glow,
Where only stars dare softly go.
Her grace, a dance of whispered light,
That turns the dark to purest white,
In her eyes, the galaxies sleep,
In her smile, the heavens weep.
So fair, so bright, so unrefined,
A beauty that both hearts and time confide—
Yet here I stand, in awe I confess,
Captive to her quiet, endless finesse.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 12:46 PM UTC
Love; a rebirth of heavens, albeit it must've been decaying in soil where I was born; it was love, it always has been. I bestowed a departure to the islands that once was a home, as I'm coming back to the oceans, far from home, _calling me_. Sky high is my love and so the heaven's in your eyes.
My armor is a disdain, I know I wouldn't be a muse. My hair cascades as the stars and dust dances like the galaxies; I am a beautiful sight. I waltz through the beat of my heart, and she said "heaven, earth, sea" a prayer spoken that's coiled in her chest.
Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 9:45 PM UTC
What are the things that
a Loving God would do?
He will protect, He will direct, and
He will see you through,
He is Alpha and Omega,
the Beginning and the end,
He is on your side and
He is Truly a Dear Friend,
He Loves and He Cares for you,
If you get what I mean,
so, why don't you Accept Him
and Join the Winning Team,
God is the Father in the Heavens up above,
With Jesus on the Right side,
his only begotten son.
Jesus gave His Life to pay for our Sins,
So, join this Winning Team
Cos in the end, We will Win!!!!
God is the father and Jesus is the son,
the Holy Spirit makes the Trinity,
as the God head as One!!!
MY GOD IS POWERFUL!!
HE WILL MAKE A WAY,
SO, WHY DON'T YOU SERVE HIM, AND ACCEPT HIM TODAY!!!
B.R.
11/29/2024
Nov 30, 2024
Nov 30, 2024 at 9:15 PM UTC
I sat there, drained of hope,
Searching for a way to elope,
Wishing for the heavens to speak,
To let my punishment begin.
Take me to the Eternal Judgment,
To slave like a dog as penance for my sins.
I'll unveil the vices I hid through my skin.
Offer me that tragic death-
Good God, I'll give you my life;
Please demand a sacrifice.
Bring the whole realm;
Find something to feast upon,
The Darkest Shade of Sin;
As I point "I am right here"
There are no lords and kings,
When the ritual begins.
There is no sinful innocence than my unmarked misdeeds.
In the madness and tears:
Of my vivid death scene,
Only in the depths of my mortal coil;
My soul will find its clarity.
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 2:39 PM UTC
What is love,
if not told to the heavens?
What I feel for you,
is locked deep in the ocean.
The more I know you,
the Deeper I go into your forest.
What I want is not empty,
like weathered plains.
It’s not murky nor dead,
as I step through your swampy past.
It’s whole and true,
as the smell of rain in April.
Its beauty is among the sun,
in spring.
All I want for you,
for us.
Is an adventure,
of love everlasting.
Aug 28, 2024
Aug 28, 2024 at 7:45 AM UTC
The heavenly stars are on fire
I’m told.
You have to take some things on faith.
But where’s the smoke?
.
.
Songs for this:
Man in finance (G6 Trust Fund) by Girl on a couch, Billen Ted
Bored by Laufey
Aug 3, 2024
Aug 3, 2024 at 12:27 PM UTC
I have titled this collection of ancient Chinese poems SORROWS OF THE WILD GEESE by HUANG E
Sent to My Husband
by Huang E
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The wild geese never fly beyond Hengyang ...
how then can my brocaded words reach Yongchang?
Like wilted willow flowers I am ill-fated indeed;
in that far-off foreign land you feel similar despair.
“Oh, to go home, to go home!” you implore the calendar.
“Oh, if only it would rain, if only it would rain!” I complain to the heavens.
One hears hopeful rumors that you might soon be freed ...
but when will the Golden **** rise in Yelang?
A star called the Golden **** was a symbol of amnesty to the ancient Chinese. Yongchang was a hot, humid region of Yunnan to the south of Hengyang, and was presumably too hot and too far to the south for geese to fly there.
Luo Jiang's Second Complaint
by Huang E
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The green hills vanished,
pedestrians passed by
disappearing beyond curves.
The geese grew silent, the horseshoes timid.
Winter is the most annoying season!
A lone goose vanished into the heavens,
the trees whispered conspiracies in Pingwu,
and people huddling behind buildings shivered.
Bitter Rain, an Aria of the Yellow Oriole
by Huang E
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These ceaseless rains make the spring shiver:
even the flowers and trees look cold!
The roads turn to mud;
the river's eyes are tired and weep into a few bays;
the mountain clouds accumulate like ***** dishes,
and the end of the world seems imminent, if jejune.
I find it impossible to send books:
the geese are ruthless and refuse to fly south to Yunnan!
Broken-Hearted Poem
by Huang E
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My tears cascade into the inkwell;
my broken heart remains at a loss for words;
ever since we held hands and said farewell,
I have been too listless to paint my eyebrows;
no medicine can cure my night-sweats,
no wealth repurchase our lost youth;
and how can I persuade that ****** bird singing in the far hills
to tell a traveler south of the Yangtze to return home?
These are my modern English translations of poems by the Chinese poet Huang E (1498–1569), also known as Huang Xiumei. She has been called the most outstanding female poet of the Ming Dynasty, and her husband its most outstanding male poet. Were they poetry’s first power couple? Her father Huang Ke was a high-ranking official of the Ming court and she married Yang Shen, the prominent son of Grand Secretary Yang Tinghe. Unfortunately for the young power couple, Yang Shen was exiled by the emperor early in their marriage and they lived largely apart for 30 years. During their long separations they would send each other poems which may belong to a genre of Chinese poetry I have dubbed "sorrows of the wild geese."
Springtime Prayer
by Michael R. Burch
They’ll have to grow like crazy,
the springtime baby geese,
if they’re to fly to balmier climes
when autumn dismembers the leaves ...
And so I toss them loaves of bread,
then whisper an urgent prayer:
“Watch over these, my Angels,
if there’s anyone kind, up there.”
Originally published by Borderless Journal (Singapore)
The Mallard
by Michael R. Burch
The mallard is a fellow
whose lips are long and yellow
with which he, honking, kisses
his ***** boisterous mistress:
my pond’s their loud bordello!
Kindred (II)
by Michael R. Burch
Rise, pale disastrous moon!
What is love, but a heightened effect
of time, light and distance?
Did you burn once,
before you became
so remote, so detached,
so coldly, inhumanly lustrous,
before you were able to assume
the very pallor of love itself?
What is the dawn now, to you or to me?
We are as one,
out of favor with the sun.
We would exhume
the white corpse of love
for a last dance,
and yet we will not.
We will let her be,
let her abide,
for she is nothing now,
to you
or to me.
Hangovers
by Michael R. Burch
We forget that, before we were born,
our parents had “lives” of their own,
ran drunk in the streets, or half-stoned.
Yes, our parents had lives of their own
until we were born; then, undone,
they were buying their parents gravestones
and finding gray hairs of their own
(because we were born lacking some
of their curious habits, but soon
would certainly get them). Half-stoned,
we watched them dig graves of their own.
Their lives would be over too soon
for their curious habits to bloom
in us (though our children were born
nine months from that night on the town
when, punch-drunk in the streets or half-stoned,
we first proved we had lives of our own).
Breakings
by Michael R. Burch
I did it out of pity.
I did it out of love.
I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove.
But gods without compassion
ordained: Frail things must break!
Now what can I do for her shattered psyche’s sake?
I did it not to push.
I did it not to shove.
I did it to assist the flight of indiscriminate Love.
But gods, all mad as hatters,
who legislate in all such matters,
ordained that everything irreplaceable shatters.
Habeas Corpus
by Michael R. Burch
from “Songs of the Antinatalist”
I have the results of your DNA analysis.
If you want to have children, this may induce paralysis.
I wish I had good news, but how can I lie?
Any offspring you have are guaranteed to die.
It wouldn’t be fair—I’m sure you’ll agree—
to sentence kids to death, so I’ll waive my fee.
Like Angels, Winged
by Michael R. Burch
Like angels—winged,
shimmering, misunderstood—
they flit beyond our understanding
being neither evil, nor good.
They are as they are ...
and we are their lovers, their prey;
they seek us out when the moon is full
and dream of us by day.
Their eyes—hypnotic, alluring—
trap ours with their strange appeal
till like flame-drawn moths, we gather ...
to see, to touch, to feel.
Held in their arms, enchanted,
we feel their lips, so old!,
till with their gorging kisses
we warm them, growing cold.
Update of "A Litany in Time of Plague"
by Michael R. Burch
THE PLAGUE has come again
To darken lives of men
and women, girls and boys;
Death proves their bodies toys
Too frail to even cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Tycoons, what use is wealth?
You cannot buy good health!
Physicians cannot heal
Themselves, to Death must kneel.
Nuns’ prayers mount to the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
Beauty’s brightest flower?
Devoured in an hour.
Kings, Queens and Presidents
Are fearful residents
Of manors boarded high.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
We have no means to save
Our children from the grave.
Though cure-alls line our shelves,
We cannot save ourselves.
"Come, come!" the sad bells cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
faith(less)
by Michael R. Burch
Those who believed
and Those who misled
lie together at last
in the same narrow bed
and if god loved Them more
for Their strange lack of doubt,
he kept it well hidden
till he snuffed Them out.
ah-men!
The Cosmological Constant
by Michael R. Burch
Einstein the frizzy-haired
claimed E equals MC squared.
Thus all mass decreases
as activity ceases?
Not my mass, my *** declared!
Ass-tronomical
by Michael R. Burch
Relativity, the theorists’ creed,
claims mass increases with speed.
My (m)ass grows when I sit it.
Mr. Einstein, get with it;
equate its deflation, I plead!
The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"
The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!
Salvation of a Formalist, an Ode to Entropy
by Michael R. Burch
Entropy?
God's universal decree
That I get to be
Disorderly?
Suddenly
My erstwhile boxed-in verse is free?
Wheeeeee!
Keywords/Tags: Chinese poetry, China, sorrow, sorrows, geese, rain, heavens, hills, winter, trees, rivers, mountains, books, birds, spring, springtime, baby, babies, pray, prayer, angels
May 19, 2024
May 19, 2024 at 7:54 AM UTC
I have dreamt
of falling stars,
although the
beauty of
your heart's
tears grow
farther in
light than
the reaches
of the heavens,
will you soar
forever in the
the secret skies
of my embrace?
In this moment,
let us heal
our wounds,
for we will
behold time
in this endless
love song
Jan 5, 2024
Jan 5, 2024 at 4:45 PM UTC
You ripped me away from my roots,
my aroma, with every breeze,
haunts you, your love for me,
your memory can't refute,
you hold me up to the sky,
begging the sun to rip through
the clouds, and you cry,
hoping it'll bring my soft petals to life,
but if I had a voice,
I'd beg to hear heavens deny,
just toss me back down,
turn your back,
don't turn around,
that's what you've always been best at.
~SacredInkedBlood
Jul 1, 2023
Jul 1, 2023 at 2:52 AM UTC
between
the monstrosities
of glass, concrete and steel,
i spy
an infinite expanse of Mediterranean blue sky,
transporting me to a spiritual high.
way up there,
a self absorbed lonely eagle
soars in ecstasy,
untouched
by the noise and suffering
going on down here.
© 2022
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 9:36 AM UTC
Am I
here,
or am
I in
your
tidal
stars
of my
eyes,
seeing
your
light
in the
little
skies
joining
leaves,
they are
not far,
rather,
they
shine
near
as my
own,
the cells
of one
cosmic
glow,
a drop
of rain
falls from
the heavens
and I catch
upon it
my delicate
finger,
the dew
cascades,
I close
my eyes
and feel
the ocean in
my hands,
in silver
scales, I
dive,
in colors
of blue,
golden
and
green,
I will
forever
dream.
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 6:34 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the taste of hell makes us appreciate a life in heavens:)<<<33333
now the moral I view me
blind eyes open wide for the destined sea
heartbreak from a nonexistent lover or them harmonize
would never fail a cruel existence never restore I fantasize
gave the blood I lean blame to bleed
gave the ache I feel shame to plead
called the begs of the braided sirens
called the legs of the shaded horizons
knew the death of me anticipated on hope
just from that **** embraced on October eloped
sure getting rid of the brown brushed one face
what I regret is the hell of before brutally fazed
------ravenfeels
Jun 4, 2021
Jun 4, 2021 at 5:58 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just take a moment and appreciate the long journey that you've survived-it's the glory of a lifetime you can't sell nor buy;>
look how far have you gone
childish plays and dolls now all defined a woman grown
stars you wished upon did not shoot the shot you scored
yet gave you a lot than wisdom of twinkles and more
even better for a future of a strong self and bold
all those lonely nights in the lousy storms
turned out to be embraced by your daemons to a joyous old soul
one of a kind with struggles that no one knows to cherish to hold
ought for you to breathe and live and carry and mold
on your own blossomed and snowed
through summer bosoms and winters and highs and lows
through hells and heavens and sweet merciless hollows
anticipate in you a tomorrow of fruitful stores
things to save up for the upcoming open doors
--------ravenfeels
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 3:24 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, leaving a chapter in your life behind is hard:\\
aiming for the wants in avoiding the open door
that hasn't come nor to a closure nor to a snore
the abandoning makes my caged up daemons free in a temptation
a soured up cheese rottened to the core in no sensation
left for once for me to hate me an ever
blinded by the selfish pride-that stubborn is dying never
an await will not heal will not become a miracle
don't desire the heavens when the hells are your lyrical
-------ravenfeels
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 6:25 PM UTC
Chika the angel in the distant clouds.
Treads slowly along the utopic path.
With eternity's splendour in your grip,
you were awoken by melodious sounds,
played by celestials who guided your trip.
You fled divinity's eternal wrath,
to dwell in realms of laughter infinite.
Those on earth have said a final goodnight,
desiring someday to share in this bliss,
when we like you will earn the Saviour's kiss.
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 1:15 PM UTC
no magical incantation
but wordless agony
silence:
bitter and disconsolate
thunderously piercing
in all heavens
and hell;
angels cry
stopping their ears
quaking in terror
on their knees
unbearably compelled
beseeching all powers
to heed—
else
heavens and earth
destroyed!
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 12:23 AM UTC