"bundt" poems
*Peanuts, water, healthy snacks.
Frosted flakes, ******* jacks.
Eggs and ham, sausage links.
Tortillas, energy drinks.
Triple chocolate bundt cakes,
Little MiOs, Gatorades.
Cupcakes, twinkies, and pop tarts.
Lots of shopping, I should start.
Buuuut I won't. Cuz I'm lazy.*
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 11:54 PM UTC
You don't want to wake up
anymore
okay, that's fine
stay in bed and watch
the clock knock space
upside it's head, like it's
a cosmic episode of
the Three Stooges
let the doors close
themselves, and lock
whatever is left
of eternity
outside
You hear someone
speak, and it makes
a little sense,
something like,
he's still in there,
should we wake him?
The eyes roll
back into their
respectable sockets,
the mouth locks
back into it's rightful
hinges
Functioning
never felt so
good, especially
under the weight
of mortality
Your hand revolts
against your mind's
fiendish desires
and coils around
the doorknob
like a thirsty desert
snake
It turns the ****
it resembles
pouring frosting
all over a bland
bundt cake
It tastes good,
the bed no longer clings
to your body, but still
carries your sweat stains
just in case you ever
want to go back to that
sick, sad,
escape
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
teeter on a negative edge
With 11 men approaching
Planing to cause some trouble
I'm not a lion fighting for survival
But Until I hit my zen mode
I'll return it 10 fold
This experience is universal
I pray it doesn't hurt you
Let's be hopeful one day
The scene is sweet like bundt cake
Lost without a purpose
Feeling a little worthless
Don't let the time fly by
Connect to the wifi
The circle of life is torture
Heed and maybe you will survive it
Because through the apple orchard
We bite poison apples
Then speechless words are giving
To the birth names we are giving
A curse by the parents
It's not to tolerate just shut up and accept it
I'm cursed to
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 11:17 AM UTC
a bundt
in my
ear will
Beethoven ring
the steps
that my
wayfarer here
in breadth
what compose
this so
foremost in
my mind
and trigger
a sensation
that overture
tell of
mine concoction
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Break Time
by Michael R. Burch
for those who lost loved ones on 9-11
Intrude upon my grief; sit; take a spot
of milk to cloud the blackness that you feel;
add artificial sweeteners to conceal
the bitter aftertaste of loss. You’ll heal
if I do not. The coffee’s hot. You speak:
of bundt cakes, polls, the price of eggs. You glance
twice at your watch, cough, look at me askance.
The TV drones oeuvres of high romance
in syncopated lip-synch. Should I feel
the underbelly of Love’s warm Ideal,
its fuzzy-wuzzy tummy, and not reel
toward some dark conclusion? Disappear
to pale, dissolving atoms. Were you here?
I brush you off: like saccharine, like a tear.
Keywords/Tags: 911, victims, survivors, grief, loss, heal, healing, tear, tears, coffee, break, time, milk, artificial, sweeteners
Apr 2, 2020
Apr 2, 2020 at 3:20 AM UTC