#relics
Assertion
Clammed-up
On the relay
Second guessing
The shrunken head
Of old therapies
The clock says
It's time
To nod off
Greet the morn
With withered fist
Rationalised fury
Trying to
Replace the
Pimply face
Of ******
Angst baseless in
Content
On the tether
Of just another
Addiction in a
Succession
Of spiritual
Vices perpetuated
By the nonchalant
Visage of a world
Uncaring
In derision
From calloused hands
Caused by
Hard work
With little or no
Monetary avail
Hand to mouth
Foot in mouth
Hand on crotch
Crotch saddle sore
What's the point
Of a worn-down point
Dull but
Double-edged
Just to prove
The sword of Damocles
Is still hanging
Over the head
Of your enemies
Who pop
Their heads
Up over
The hedgerows
Like pictures
In a shooting gallery
At the carnival of
A battlefield distant
Filled with relics
Of another
Dead-end
Ill-purposed war
Of the worlds floating
On the crest of
Mine-dotted airwaves
Prompting viewers
To drown negativity
And to salvage
The positive
A broadcast from
Bipolar formats
In living colour
Double-edged
Double-standards
Double-dealing
Double-meaning
Double-minded
Double-jeopardy
Double-trouble
Double your money
Doppelganger leading
Double life
All propagated in
Double-time
Best
Double your efforts
And tune out!
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:42 PM UTC
I bought the shroud of Turin
the vatican had a sale
they have legal expenses
and priests that needed bail.
It was just an old dusty cloth
so I put it in the wash
that Tide detergent, never fails
all the smudges and stuff washed off.
Sep 24, 2023
Sep 24, 2023 at 9:55 PM UTC
I am a writer and I've always known it.
Even when my feeble self-esteem conspired against my urge to pick up a pen.
I carried it around
like you carry relics
my pens.
Remained tethered to them.
I write now.
Perhaps because I am not a talker.
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 12:47 PM UTC
Vacuum
by Michael R. Burch
Over hushed quadrants
forever landlocked in snow,
time’s senseless winds blow ...
leaving odd relics of lives half-revealed,
if still mostly concealed ...
such are the things we are unable to know
that once intrigued us so.
Come then, let us quickly repent
of whatever truths we’d once determined to learn:
for whatever is left, we are unable to discern.
There’s nothing left of us; it’s time to go.
Keywords/Tags: college, quadrants, winter, snow, winds, time, relics, deposits, artifacts, memories, hushed, silent, vacuum
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 12:58 AM UTC
She could be more lost than anybody as though no akin
She could be more distorted than the moon's skin
She could be more sceptical than what eclipses bring
She could be more pessimistic than March equinox
She could be more cynical than the devils in abyss
She could be more sadistic than Harley Quinn
She could be more ghastly than decapitated heads
She could be more dead than a corpse itself
But when she rose,
You know ?
She attributed him in nothing
His relics are buried
And I ?
I donot care with delight by my side
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 4:20 PM UTC
I'll remember our love
When I forget all else
You'll surely never fade
When all light's extinguished
Our love will still shine
Turning night to day
When everything ends
Nothing more remains
But this imprint of you and I
I'll one day rest in peace
But this love will live on
Long after the day I die
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
My deepest darkest wondering
Is my most profound fear
Have you forgotten me
Since I'm no longer near?
Reciprocity's expected
Recalling how you cared
This pain of remembrance
Would be lessened if it's shared
But if the worst is true
You've erased me from your mind
My fear would breed a sadness
And leave past joy behind
As for me I can't move on
I've tried to shut the door
My mind and soul return to you
And will forevermore
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
The pain sharp
Memories raw
Delightful joy so true
The feelings fighting in my soul
Call me back to you
As love's presence fades
To its relics I return
Reminding and rekindling
The passion that once burned
Yet
You're long gone
No going back
Time cannot reverse
All that's left
To soothe the soul
Is putting love to verse
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
The sconce on the wall
for crackling torches left burning for a returning
resents the assumption of infinite patience.
She's attached to an old brick wall;
not by affection, but by habit
and tools of the trade of attachment.
Occasionally-replaced simple screws worked into the bracket.
The wall is as dusty to touch, as divisive
as a tome of records, of laws of old.
The sconce respects history-- wishes more would become antiquity.
Knowing every flame left ardently lit, eventually burns out.
While here she stays.
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC
I have sacred relics
Buried in my altar
To sanctify my life.
I don't kneel in supplication;
Still they know
My devotion,
My adoration,
My fealty.
I am blessed.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 3:28 PM UTC
I reminisce by this railway siding pond,
Musing on rail relics rattling on,
Recalling lives and times bygone,
But memories of their shades linger on,
The lonesome call of distant steam trains,
Eras that may never come again,
I see they're gone nowhere in particular,
Replaced by planes and transport vehicular,
I imagine queues on foggy platforms,
Awaiting the misted trains' shadow forms,
Standing by, expecting the status quo,
I blink my eyes, where did they all go?
Looking backwards along yesterday's track,
I'm no kid any more, get off my back,
I reflect and reminisce,
Nostalgia is for the times we miss,
I'll reminisce by the railway siding pond,
I recall the times and lives bygone,
As ghosts of rail relics keep rattling on......
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC