Stage lights and the shimmer of red sequin
He read her like a book
And his teeth kept on shining,
he's been there before

She’s singin’,
“In Heaven
Everything is fine
In Heaven
Everything is fine
You got your good thing
And I've got mine

Everything is fine”

It’s enamoring, he thinks to himself,
“You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
You'd be like Heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last, love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothin' else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
Wise men say
"Only fools rush in"
But I can't help falling in love with you”

She’s looking back,
Fading as she sings and thinking,
“Will you hold me sacred? Will you hold me tight?
Can you colorize my life, I'm so sick of black and white?
Can you make it all a little less old?”

The song ends and she slips
into the bar-side
of his hunting grounds,
he feels ignored,
so he walks over
“Oh, What is love?
Oh baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me

Baby, don't hurt me
No more
Can you tell me,
What is love?”

Maybe it's too much so she bows out
“ok, can you make me some magic with your own two hands?
Can you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?
Can you give me something I can take home?”

“No,” he’s disappointed,
“I don't know why you're not fair
I give you my love, but you don't care
So what is right and what is wrong?
Gimme a sign”

She asks, ”What is love?
Oh baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more

can you cater to every fantasy I got?
can you hose me down with holy water, if I get too hot?
can you take me places I've never known?

What is love?
Oh baby, don't hurt me
Don't hurt me
No more.”

He responds slowly,
Soon hurrying his words,
“Oh, I don't know, what can I do?
What else can I say? It's up to you
I know we're one, just me and you.
I can't go on.”

She scoffs,
“I know the territory, I've been around
It'll all turn to dust and we'll all fall down
Sooner or later you'll be ******* around”

“look,” he says, “I love you, baby
And if it's quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm the lonely night
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh, pretty baby
Don't bring me down, I pray
Oh, pretty baby
Now that I've found you, stay
And let me love you, baby
Let me love you”

Some time passes
Some days it don't come easy
Some days it don't come hard
Some days it don't come at all
And these are the days that never end

Some nights she’s breathing fire
Some nights he’s carved in ice
Some nights she’s like nothing he’s ever seen before
or will again

Maybe I'm crazy, but it's crazy and it's true
I know she can save him, no-one else can save him now but her
As long as the wheels are turning
As long as the bays are burning
As long as her dreams are coming true
She’d better believe it
he would do anything for love
he knows it's true and that's a fact
he would do anything for love
And there'll never be no turning back

I know now though
Nothing lasts forever
And even time will pass
She’s gone to the winds
Of seasonal doubt,
He’s in a mood
and already out,
she pleads as he packs
“stay!”

and he says back to her,
“Shall I stay, would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you. no,
Sometimes I feel I've got to run away
I've got to get away
From the pain you drive into the heart of me
The love we share seems to go nowhere
And I've lost my life
For I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night

Once I ran to you
Now I run from you
This ******* you've given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that's not nearly all.”

“but…”
she puts her hand on his shoulder

He recoils,
“Don't touch me please, I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you though you hurt me so
Now I'm gonna pack my things and go

If I should stay
Well I would only be in your way
and yet I know
I'll think of you each step of the way”

She’s there crying on the kitchen floor,
Left to live her life,

Many weeks slipped by her mood
Passing through the avenues
She meets her man
Before either found anyone new.

So they take a hike
And at the peak she starts talking,
“At first I was afraid, I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong
And I grew strong
And I learned how to get along
And so you're back
From outer space
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed that stupid lock,
I should have made you leave your key
If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me.”

He opens up a little,
“No matter how hard I try
You keep pushing me aside
And I can't break through
There's no talking to you
It's so sad that you're leaving me behind
It takes time to believe it
But after all is said and done
You might be the lonely one.”

She says “Do you believe in life after love?
I can feel something inside me say
I really don't think you're strong enough, no
Do you believe in life after love?”

He says, “I believe in a thing called love
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart
There's a chance we could make it now
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down
I believe in a thing called love

Give a little bit
Oh, give a little bit of your love to me
I'll give a little bit
I'll give a little bit of my love to you
There's so much that we need to share
So send a smile and show you care

See the man with the lonely eyes
Oh, take his hand, you'll be surprised
Like the river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so we go
Some things were meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
'Cause I can't help falling in love with you”

She melts just enough to say,
“Just a little bit of love,
that is all we need for the second day.
Is it hard to be a friend,
for a little while in a simple way?
Just a little bit of love
and a friendly face makes the world look bright.
And a shining star above
will help you through the darkest night.

When you feel down,
don't sit and cry the whole day through.
Don't wonder why
it all must happen to you.
Put on your coat, come over.
No, it can't be that bad.
Put on a smile, don't look so sad.”

Then she asks, “Will you hold me sacred?
Will you hold me tight?
Can you colorize my life,
I'm so sick of black and white?
Can you make it all a little less old?”

“yes, I can do that
Oh I can do that” he answers

She continues,
“Will you make me some magic with your own two hands?
Can you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?
Can you give me something I can take home?”

He says, “I can do that”

Finally she asks,
“Will you cater to every fantasy I got?
Will you hose me down with holy water, if I get too hot?
Will you take me places I've never known?”

“I can do that
Oh, I can do that.” he finally answers

She can’t believe it,
“After a while you'll forget everything
It was a brief interlude and a midsummer night's fling
And you'll see that it's time to move on”

He holds on,
“No, I won't do that
I won't do that”

She finishes,
“I know the territory, I've been around
It'll all turn to dust and we'll all fall down
Sooner or later you'll be ******* around.”
Waiting for a reply…

He answers slowly,
Pacing himself,
Like it’s a race til death do us part,
“I won't do that
Anything for love
Oh, I would do anything for love
I would do anything for love
But I won't do that
No, I won't do that.”

We decided to take a walk.
If the moon and stars still existed,
they were hidden behind clouds.

Then a fog hit us like a wave, a cloud
that had run out of gas and crashed on us,
to further shrink the perceptible world.

Ordinary, walking people became vague
phantoms that could loom, in film noir
black and white out of the fog,
suddenly sharpen and colorize,
only to disappear again in moments.

Sounds, out of sync, or garbled, came sharply
from odd angles, turning that fifth sense unreliable.
Noises, at first muted, were abruptly amplified as
if the hand of that ghostly vapor ran a soundboard.

A man, moving in stalker-like silence, clops,
like a clydesdale on cobblestone as he passes close.

I half expected a distant fog horn to announce
the passing of a ghost ship where all be welcome.

An old man once said, "Being in love is like the color TV, once you have it you never want to go back to Black and White"
This sounds too beautiful to be wrong
But too foreign to me to be right
So here I sit,
Remote in hand
Studying each channel I see
Looking for a hint of color

Does it happen all at once?
Or seep in through the corners?
Or a scene at a time?

Sometimes I think I see some color
Coming into the frame
But as soon as I think it
It’s gone before my eyes
Just a trick of the light
Back to that old black and white

Is that a new costar?
To colorize my life?
As soon as I see him
He’s gone
And I’m back to black and white

It’s too beautiful to be wrong
To unknown to be right
But when
Oh when
Will I have color in my life?

Hey Mister Photographer,
shoot a picture of me
& use your special effects
to make me look
much younger.
Darken my hair just a bit.

O Mister Photographer,
then please photoshop
my sweet companion,
who onced loved me,
in her prettiest dress,
standing right next to me.
Place some lovely flowers
in her gorgeous hair,
wrap my arm around her.

Please Mister Photographer,
can you colorize some
rolling hills below
& place the bluest skies
above us.

O Yes Mister Photographer,
I think you've got it right.
That's the way I want it,
the way I want
people
to remember us.

I smile through hollow teeth
My lips are closed
So wide my jaw aches
Light glistens in pitch dark nights
Only surrounded I am alone
It's all so beautiful when there's nothing
Cold heat burns
Your skin scars
Colorize the pain
Pour everything into the open wound
Don't let me be alone
You're the only one here and with hollow teeth so little fear

Take a thought
Long drawn out
Every detail nuance and particular
Write it out
Wander into every crevice corner
Orifice of it
Chew on the salty sweet detail
Talk in length about the atmosphere
How the sky was clear that day
Or how it was black as southern mud
Colorize it with the voices in your head write down what they said
The inner dialogue
Argue a point
With your ego
It doesn't matter which of you wins
Just paint it out spill
The angst in gallons of red spills
And splatters the anger
Throw black on the paper spit
Hit smack  your hand right fan on it mush it
Tangle get some virulent deep blue
And paint on paper the sky how it looked
And your eyes how wide they were
Spooked
Get lost misspell
Curse ******* demons
Who are you?
Who is anyone
Are we just blood and guts or
More

Feelings can get abstract and love can hurt poetry writing spilling paint crying
Are all we got.
Take a walk. Walk until dark.
Wake up the next day.

These are Christmas poems by Michael R. Burch. Some are darker Christmas poems and heretical Christmas poems.

The First Christmas
by Michael R. Burch

’Twas in a land so long ago . . .
the lambs lay blanketed in snow
and little children everywhere
sat and watched warm embers glow
and dreamed (of what, we do not know).

And THEN—a star appeared on high,
The brightest man had ever seen!
It made the children whisper low
in puzzled awe (what did it mean?).
It made the wooly lambkins cry.

Not far away a new-born lay,
warm-blanketed in straw and hay,
a lowly manger for his crib.
The cattle mooed, distraught and low,
to see the child. They did not know

it now was Christmas day!



Christmas Wishes
by Michael R. Burch

My wish for you, with Christmas near,
is troubles fleeing, fleet as deer,
and peace encompassing as snow,
bright merriment in brilliant flow.

I wish for you, with Christ’s Eve here,
a silver moon should skies seem drear,
white stars to light a festive sky,
sweet warmth caressing from on high.

I wish for you on Christmas day
a tree enchanted, festooned, gay . . .
and Christmas night, as carols play,
bright candles lined in white array.

But most of all, I wish you well,
and so much more than words can tell.
For this and every coming year,
Noel, Noel and Christmas cheer!




Late Frost
by Michael R. Burch

The matters of the world like sighs intrude;
out of the darkness, windswept winter light
too frail to solve the puzzle of night’s terror
resolves the distant stars to salts: not white,

but gray, dissolving in the frigid darkness.
I stoke cooled flames and stand, perhaps revealed
as equally as gray, a faded hardness
too malleable with time to be annealed.

Light sprinkles through dull flakes, devoid of color;
which matters not. I did not think to find
a star like Bethlehem’s. I turn my collar
to trudge outside for cordwood. There, outlined

within the doorway’s arch, I see the tree
that holds its boughs aloft, as if to show
they harbor neither love, nor enmity,
but only stars: insignias I know—

false ornaments that flash, overt and bright,
but do not warm and do not really glow,
and yet somehow bring comfort, soft delight:
a rainbow glistens on new-fallen snow.

I had Robert Frost in mind when I wrote this poem, and thus the title. Frost was fond of the word “arch,” and it’s here because of that fondness. The poem imagines him as an old man and a skeptic, but one who never really made a complete break from his childhood faith. The rainbow created by the “artificial stars” was not something I had planned ... in fact, I believe I wrote that line before I understood that the Christmas tree ornaments were creating the rainbow.



Merry Christmas, Happy New Year

by Michael R. Burch

Merry Christmas!
  Best of wishes!
    Hugs and kisses,
      Carolyn.
Don't do dishes
  or eat fishes.
    You're delicious,
      happenin'.
Happy New Year!
  Hope to see yer
    'round Springwater
       once again.
You're a treasure,
  such a pleasure
    (that's for sure),
      a **** friend.
Now I'm learnin'
  all 'bout yearnin',
    and I'm earnin'
      it, I guess.
I'll be stronger,
  live much longer.
    If I'm wronger,
      I’ll confess.
Had to tell you
  that you're swell; you
    ought to sell you
      for a mil.
If I could,
  I'd (knock on wood)
    be just as good.
      I never will.
Still, I love you,
  thinking of you;
    I eschew to
      tell you why.
If you're ever
  in the market
    (or hard up)
      just call this guy.



King of the World
by the Child Poets of Gaza, an alias of Michael R. Burch

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child free, for my people’s sake.

And once I had freed them, they’d all run and scream
back to my palace, for free ice cream!

Why are you laughing? Can’t a young king dream?

If I were King of the World, I would banish
hatred and war, and make mean men vanish.

Then, in their place, I’d bring in a circus
with lions and tigers (but they’d never hurt us!)

Why are you laughing? What else is a king’s purpose?

If I were King of the World, I would teach
the preachers to always do as they preach;

and so they could practice being of good cheer,
we’d have Christmas —and presents—every day of the year!

Why are you laughing? Some dreams do appear!

If I were King of the World, I would send
my counselors of peace to the wide world’s end ...

But all this hard dreaming is making me thirsty!
I proclaim Pink Lemonade; please bring it in a hurry!

Why are you laughing? Mom’ll make it in a flurry!

If I were King of the World, I’d declare
a year of happiness, with no despair—

only playing allowed, for my joyful subjects!
Not a toy left behind! Repair all rejects!

Why are you laughing? Surely no one objects!

If I were King of the World, I would fire
racists and bigots, with their message so dire.

And we wouldn’t build walls, to shut people out.
I would build amusement parks, have no doubt!

Why are you laughing? Should I use my clout?

If I were King of the World, I would drive
a red Ferrari, like no man alive!

But behind would be busses for my legions of friends:
we’d party like maniacs; the fun never ends!

Why are you laughing? Hop aboard! Let’s be friends!

If I were King of the World, I would make
every child blessed, for my people’s sake,

and every child safe, and every child free,
and every child happy, especially me!

Why are you laughing? Appoint me and see!



White Hot Christmas
by Michael R. Burch

I’m back from my jog;
it felt like summer
on Christmas Eve.
What a ******!
Forget the sleigh, Santa,
hire a Hummer.



Christmas is Coming!
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!



Trump puts the X in Xmas
by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; the Trumpster’s purse is flat.
Please put a billion in Fat Cat’s hat.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short of cash, well then, the yoke’s on you!



Trump’s Christmas Shutdown
by Michael R. Burch aka “The Loyal Opposition”

The Grinch is quite proud of his friend Trump tonight:
To see Whoville shut down? “An enormous delight!”

And old cranky Scrooge approves of Trump’s whims:
“Who the hell cares about all those dark Tiny Tims?”

Meanwhile in the Kremlin a ***** glass clinks
As a pale being smiles at his latest hijinks:

“Merry Xmas to all my AmeriKKKan friends
As the bright lights go out and democracy ends!”



Economical Fall
by Michael R. Burch  

The time to make love is autumn;
so kiss your sweethearts (if you’ve got ’em).
Seek ways to keep warm
but observe this norm:
by Christmas be sure you “forgot” ’em!



Yet Another Unmerry Xmas Poem
by Michael R. Burch

the Shepherds should have tended flocks
of sheep, and not become them.

the Wise Men should have used their heads:
religion numbs and dumbs them.

the Angels should have saved their praise
for saviors who can save us

from ludicrous superstitions
and Profits who deprave us.



What happened to compassion;
did it go out of fashion?
Or do Jesus and his Profits
prefer to line white pockets
and colorize dockets?
—Michael R. Burch



Malpractice

by Michael R. Burch

“He needs a new nose,”
Ma said, “suppose—
one that glows!”

The doc agreed
and worked with speed
on Santa’s steed.

The surgery done,
Ma told her son—
“It’s posh, and fun!”

But Rudolph wheezed
and cried and sneezed
with disbelief.

“It should’ve been red!”
the reindeer said,
pale and distraught in his hospital bed.

“Doc, what did you do?
Alas, boo-hoo!
It’s K-Mart-special chintzy blue!”



What Would Santa Claus Say?
by Michael R. Burch

What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to **** and plunder?

For he’ll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!

When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,

when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?

Published by Lucid Rhythms, Poet’s Corner and VYBRANÉ PREKLADY BÁSNÍ Z ANGLICTINY, where it was translated into Czech by Vaclav ZJ Pinkava

“And I will **** her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins [kidneys] and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.” (So much for grace according to Revelation 2:23, where Jesus, or someone putting words in his mouth, vows to personally ****** specific children living at the time for their mother’s sins! To make matters even more macabre, one of the “sins” Jesus vows to ****** children for is eating foods offered to idols, which Saint Paul, author of most of the New Testament, said was fine and dandy! According to the gospels, Jesus himself said that Christians could eat anything they liked, because they were not defiled by what they ate. Was Jesus a murderous Indian Giver, or were the writers of the Bible making things up to suit their beliefs?



A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint
by Michael R. Burch

Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy . . .
just . . . Santa, please,
I’m on my knees! . . .
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!

Published by Philosophical Percolations and The HyperTexts

Will Jesus Christ cause or allow Albert Einstein and Mahatma Gandhi to be tortured in an "eternal hell" for guessing wrong about which earthly religion to believe? What about Jesus's parable of the Good Samaritan, who put aside religious differences to practice compassion? Did Jesus, who saved all his sternest criticism for hypocrites, talk the talk but fail to walk the walk himself? Or did Christian theologians get something very, very wrong? And what would Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny say about such intolerance and infinite cruelty?

Keywords/Tags: Christmas poems, Christmas day, baby, Jesus, manger, crib, Bethlehem, Star of Bethlehem, star, lambs, children, cattle, oxen, donkey, straw, hay, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, Magi, Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Jesus Christ, Revelation, homosexuals, harlots, Christianity, heaven, hell, salvation, Gandhi, Hindu, saint, knees, kneeling, prayer, mercy, compassion, grace, toys, games, candy

Keywords/Tags: Christmas, day, lambs, star, children, baby, Jesus, manger, crib, cattle, oxen, straw, hay, Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wise men, Bethlehem

I accept you as you are you simply perfect.
Don't colorize your hair?
Because some gray appears.
Don't go get plastic surgery to make this or that disappear.

Cause I accept you as you are.
My lover, my heart.
So what if we both gained weight?
Maybe, it was on purpose?
But if not?
Because we can always lose it together.

Just believe my truth that is spoken.
I accept you as you are.
The one true person on earth that I love.

I can feel the peering glances from a world that watches in black and white
Still, I hold your hand, unwilling and defiant,
When I kiss you in hues their screens cannot colorize

How can I embrace you outside of these mindless walls?
Walls that have been breaking and burning since they were built, and yet refuse to let us pass or even slip through without the correct passcode

I hear stories of our recorded tragedies, under the name of progression without action...
Without promise

If you find the courage, hold my hand, and let me guide you across the silken web high up in the sky
Rope strung by an audience of unblinking eyes that follow and stare, waiting for the DROP!

But even with the attention of fleeting bystanders, I'll whisper to you, through our unknown reputations,
“Secrets aren’t meant for lovers”

My dear, do not look back, nor fall victim to the mobs that rage behind glass curtains
I’m here to help you wave your pride along the double spaced lines they had set for us,
To show them a place, unimaginable, in the streets outside of the dim lit closet that had consumed our being

Will you love me honestly?
Without keeping me incognito on the tabs of your laptop,
And make our history public for all of those who wish to watch in color

I pity the people who’ve switched their channels to grayscale
So that they may ignore the other pigments in the color wheel
But one day, they will learn to accept us before the roaring cloud
As your love in every combination of red, green, blue finds itself in the storage of my soul