"feints" poems
Night filled glittering skies
Cloud bright trimmed in lines
Sloe-eyed music pops and fades
Drones straight edged across the lies
Drugged up players in a lit up world
Smooth cries fill the ears of hardhearted rituals
Flashbulb strobes beat the pace
Fist raised groups of hazed out praise
Rushed up feints in the days of the lost
Last light shines as sloe-eyed music pops and fades
cc2011
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
(seep yourself to leak away)
all reveals are feints;
I take you right
but I am moving left,
always left,
then left again
when I turn the faucet of me on,
brown, rusty pipe water comes out,
never turning clear,
even if the flow
went on for a millennium
someone traveller passerby
reads my excellent explicit illicit words,
with kind sweetness
observes a valid conclusion:
Poems take.a lot out of you
correct+wrong
not take, give
they are the slow seepage
of my overburdening
which is
yes, yes, I know, all relative,
but perspective is a
sometime summer thing,
and all the springtime streets
filled with filthy frozen slush
having come from some rusty water leakage,
never turning clear
no matter how long the street runs away
from you
so you take yourself to give away,
seeping and leaking
ah words;
so useful and so inadequate
crushed petals from the Tree of Life
you ask me If I have read my brother,
the prophet-poet Jeremiah?
*The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?*
*When your words came, I ate them;
they were my joy and my heart's delight*
*Then the Lord reached out his hand unto my mouth and said,
"I have put my words in your mouth."*
these are those words
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC
Messiahs and martyrs
And saviors
And saints
Sacrosanct
Sanctimonious
False idol feints
Behind gates,
Palace walls
Fortified in a lie
An elaborate,
Enduring
Mythos we contrive
And apply
To the lives
Of misguided lost souls
Filling holes
With the answers
Of what never knows
How to be of this world
Without more to assign
What is so picture perfectly
Flawed by design
Intertwined with
The years we spend
Spacing in time
Agonizingly trying
To find
Our own kind
Out among the expanse
Starry satellite trance
Higher intellects seek
And destroy
To advance
The agenda, to claim
A new age
Under orders
Anointed upon
The consent
Of the heaven-sent
Nuclear bomb
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 9:31 AM UTC
You know the twists my tongue will take
The angel feints, the devil’s fake
In the mind of a wayward romance
Crashing, Jumping, Dodging, Loving, Laughing, Breathing
And the ways we move, your kiss, it leads.
A tangled dress, a trail behind
I’ll take the trail, despite I’m blind
On a road to a peril, a chance
Halos, Darkness, Angel Kisses, Devil’s Beds And
We will dance, you see, and pause, rewind.
I know the twists your tongue will take
The devil feints, the angel’s fake
Of the heart of a beaten romance
Beating, Meeting, Crying, Kneeling, Facing, Running
To the time of chaos, void of God.
I feel as though we dance in step
A tune to break, instead of keep
So perhaps I can stop tapping my feet,
At least for a little while.
Please, cease the music.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Warm night stretches its silent breaths across these stagnant hours
They ripple like an unworldly ocean that tempts a sailor’s most strained reach
But my sails are torn through with a wanderer’s navigation
Upon this endless sea of patient hopes and horrors
And I close my eyes dream tight in sewn with such a fright
That upon their parted shutters I will still see nothing
Because your smile feints just over that intangible horizon so taunting
Smile into the day as I pull myself through the dark
So I took on the edge of the world, the edge of sanity
Clutching at the crags to pull myself out of this dull droned deep hell
Above the clouds into my florid reveries with fragile flight
Although I lost all names and labels of retold in folded certainties
I finally made it through the strong woven break
But who’s to tell me when I am to ever wake?
Definitely upon indefinite travel, this weary and constant sailor says
Not even you.
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 11:35 PM UTC
April showers on the hair of fools.
The lost and the forsaken,
The blind and worthy too.
Sodden to the bone bleached
Follicles of folly.
Spring feints and fakes,
Flash of sun, lone melancholy.
Forgotten light is left to linger
Behind a promenade of clouds,
Veiled in the shroud of a harsh midwinter.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
Violets
by Michael R. Burch
Once, only once,
when the wind flicked your skirt
to an indiscreet height
and you laughed,
abruptly demure,
outblushing shocked violets:
suddenly,
I knew:
everything had changed.
Later, as you braided your hair
into long bluish plaits
the shadows empurpled,
the dragonflies’
last darting feints
dissolving mid-air,
we watched the sun’s long glide
into evening,
knowing and unknowing.
O, how the illusions of love
await us in the commonplace
and rare
then haunt our small remainder of hours.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Muse Apprentice Guild, Victorian Violet Press, Boston Poetry Magazine, and Poetry on Demand
Keywords/Tags: Violets, flowers, wind, skirt, blush, hair, shadows, sunset, evening, love, illusions, time, commonplace, rare
Mar 19, 2020
Mar 19, 2020 at 11:45 PM UTC
Swing my phallus,
a lame attempt to keep balance on this spinning rock.
Better ruled by short stick then take stock in anything serious.
mind shut move forward
what we can't see certainly can't hear us.
Only an ******* pumps fists
This abashed soul lumps his blame on the short comings of others.
Disdain, a fort built from pillows and covers
tumbles under the absent look given by scorned lovers...
I picked a rose
pricked a finger
now my love is left to linger with thoughts of red blood
all because I was too impatient to grasp it
a casket lies in reserve for this paper soul
it doesn't take a fool to see that penciled trees won't grow
so here i stand thumb up head down
gratuity, a hole filled with water and rubish
forms beauty in this mind an oil rainbow doth permiss
But thats just it
a shimmer, a sheen
that gleam a thin slice of cold metal
the only rebuttal a reflection, depth shallow
if mirrors speak no lies pull thIs finger out of a hat
devise an angle to cut glass which speaks truth
not crap, or a whacked crack at fact.
A fallacy presented forms false return
allows me repentance from all that i've learned.
Solace in dreams?
a world of things
which feints refuge, gives refuse and meddles
muddied the sleep sought to steal from the night
replaced it with fists, your form, and a fight
a plight is where i stand to sit
despite the case i planned to rip
Eyes turn to days distracted thoughts juggled
nights turned to pains, sore throats, bloodied knuckles
Upside down
or inside out?
... to be continued
-2010
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 12:11 PM UTC
Feet flat, knees level, he takes the position:
wrists and forearms relaxed
and shoulders loose.
He begins with a quick combination,
flying like darts from his fingers,
while looking for advantage.
More alert now, he ignores obvious feints
and scrolls swiftly down,
shifting his stance to maintain balance.
He considers his strategy - and then,
sweeping away block-proof pretenders,
focused on his target,
he exhales and executes a precise killer 'CLICK'.
Smiling, he takes a well-earned bow
to sup his scalding coffee.
He's a Google-jitsu,
early-morning Master;
know him and fear him.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
All I could do
Was stare at my shoes
And spend the spoken word
On petty pithy plights
Undressed in moonlight
Whilst you wielded a sword
Tradition would have me win
Though speech is a hollow thing
This I knew before
Slashes, feints and rips
From my eyes to my hips
My legs safe to carry your war
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 7:32 PM UTC
If I approach you my hair feints,
In the wind like my heart.
If I look at you my eyes glaze up,
A beautiful birdy flies by.
What little words we seldom share,
I show such trouble speaking.
What little time near you I spend,
I have such fainty breathing.
Rain drops feel like your finger tips,
What I imagine touch to be.
Temperate waters in the harbour,
To carry boats fine out to sea.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
Romanticised, phantasised, moments and actions
which reality could not hold,
yet, force of desire makes manifest.
Sleepwaking in a walking dream,
as a thousand echoed universes flow by,
each alone, yet glowing in the brilliance
of a million thoughts and feints and
flowing emotions, occupying the fragile mind
from the nothingness held within.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
Just time...
Like little fingers
Heart things in the Love dark
Small bright eyes
Playing attention
Paying Night and Day
Their due...
Just time...
Just time...
Odes and sonnets
And other words
Used as tools
Or feints of Love
In the swell and sway
So cruel...
Just time.
Just time...
Hardly a wink
In the blink of the wonder
Of Oxford, or Webster's
Or Roget...
Let's play...
With time.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 5:52 PM UTC
Blood tinged with the taste of iron
As it follows the ridges that
Move the fluid like aqueducts, and
Deposit it into my mouth.
I let it pool and sit like stagnant water
Until I spit and paint the canvas
A mosaic of Crimson Red that represents
All the hours that you spent
Drenched in sweat from all the rounds commenced
Never overwhelmed by what you underwent
This red’s respect, across from me
A nodding head with arms and legs, and
He bleeds like me.
Inside these ropes we are all silent poets
Unspoken codes and a violent
Calm devotion to only speak with
Measured fists and feints.
Inner pain hidden behind punch combinations
Like a writer hides his heart behind a metaphor.
You never see the crowd all circled round
Like a pack of laser focused vultures
Looking for scraps of skin to feed
Some inner need to watch a warrior bleed.
They root for me, as long as I stand tall upon my feet, but
A buckled knee creates a switch of scenes,
Now they scream and plea for him to finish me.
I list as if this ring sits
Atop a ship hit broadside by rogue waves, but
A fighter hides his pain within a flame
Kept deep inside a hanging lantern
That adorns his heart and keeps him standing.
Now he moves with clenched fists
To man the sails and turn the ship, and
Aim it right at his, because if your drowning
You know **** well he is coming with
Body shots placed straight under his ribs
Now he sinks quick, gasping for air
Afloat on hope alone, searching for a beacon
To lead him from the deep end, but
He heads for the cliffs at the end of your fist, and
Your shoreline is his jawline
He washes up stiff, rinsed out and spit
Like the blood on your lips.
Apr 29, 2022
Apr 29, 2022 at 2:28 PM UTC
If I approach you my hair feints,
In the wind like my heart.
If I look at you my eyes glaze up,
A beautiful birdy flies by.
What little words we seldom share,
I show such trouble speaking.
What little time near you I spend,
I have such fainty breathing.
Rain drops feel like your finger tips,
What I imagine touch to be.
Temperate waters in the harbour,
To carry boats fine out to sea.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
Hashtag pow, shot down with ease
Legs spring up Hes on his knees
A quick ko jumps off the floor
Auto pilot needs some more
Can't avoid with feints and blocks
Sucker punched he lost his socks
Floats like a peacock, waves like the sea
He can't sidestep what he can't see
Brains confused, oh my daze
Perplexing head shot in a maze
No White towel he's conscious still
Been struck before he knows the deal
Experience will hide the pain
Gamblers will earn their gain
A short sharp shock, hit with bricks
My once a week goldie fix
Sent from my iPhone
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
A sudden realisation, revelation came to light.
The grass isn't greener on the other side.
He travelled across seas and desert sands.
If only he knew, he had been watering barren lands.
The seeds won't sprout and the roots won't sink.
Nothing he did, will ever amount to anything.
His boots were worn out, blisters and toes showing,
But he trudged, in the dark, sandstorms blowing.
Teary- eyed, sand granules rained fierce on his corneas.
Wandering blind, accompanied by his own fears.
Buzzing in his ears, he no longer hear what's dear,
But what's clear, he gave up on ideals and ideas.
Cause they are not real, mirage in the heat wave.
No corner that he felt safe, so he began to dig graves.
Hid in one, till he was found by a bedouin chieftain,
In that instant, he be doing fist feints,
Caught off guard in an unfamiliar fiefdom.
Like a ****** in the university of Princeton.
He didn't need assistance, but he definitely needed help.
Like a she-wolf, lost, and looking hard for its whelp.
Not soulless, just a soul lost, for many moon days.
With His saving grace, he prayed he will be soon saved.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 1:42 AM UTC
Distances
by Michael R. Burch
There is a small cleanness about her,
as if she has always just been washed,
and there is a dull obedience to convention
in her accommodating slenderness
as she feints at her salad.
She has never heard of Faust, or Frost,
and she is unlikely to have been seen
rummaging through bookstores
for mementos of others
more difficult to name.
She might imagine “poetry”
to be something in common between us,
as we write, bridging the expanse
between convention and something . . .
something the world calls “art”
for want of a better word.
At night I scream
at the conventions of both our worlds,
at the distances between words
and their objects: distances
come lately between us,
like a clean break.
Published by Verse Libre, Triplopia, Lone Stars. Keywords/Tags: distance, distances, convention, books, bookstores, art, literature, poetry, chasm, abyss, divide, Faust, Frost, clean break
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC
You’ll look close for all its feints,
its lies of needing you
being lost without
while the fingers on your windpipe tighten
and those tears come in place of shouting
loud, steady, drip-drip mention
of blissed futures,
dispatched, ***** pasts,
the present full
of passive aggression
where passivity is too nuanced
you’ll still be there with open arms
and a heart dark with hope,
but that tickle-whisper in your skull
is not just the concussion
not just
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 10:30 AM UTC
It went on and on
Oh so many years
We were best friends through thick and thin
With romance in arrears
When I was ready
She of course was not
Then I married someone else
She also tied the knot
I was even there for that one
It hurt a lot
I believe you call it sadness
Love sometimes feints the heart
Sometimes you gotta wait
You do the best you can
Try not to make a mistake
But I did and so did she
So we became two not so gay “divorce-eas”
Still talking to each other
Still with a lot to say
Like how about a date?
One turned into two
And then another
Until I could no longer wait
Came the day on blended knee
I asked her to be my mate
"Oh my God, it's been you along,"
That's what she said to me
Followed by, "I have always loved you,"
Which I took as yes to my deeply felt query
We are now married
Since March 25, to be exact
Our romance is permanently intact
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Something viscous and of the Earth
rampant hydraulic and geometric
where...
ever the green neddles empire
cupped hand of salt and clay
where red is skin unwashed
where smoothed stones
come under scrutiny
of rainfall
burnished by atmos
tasting of remnant iron
back of the mouth adrenaline
fear where choking lives
beguiled feints of the (nearly)
..the almost
..the always
just out of reach
seductive...
by satiated tones hither
yet kissed to life abrupt
sputtered out from shoals
soft guarded places
padded in the low end
theory spun cobweb
tied by philosophy of moss
long stretched wisps of time
that curl as smoke meanders
to drink in the momentary
nooks where God is salve
woven to worship pause
tangled and braided just so…
to hug in the splendors
a ram with horns wide like horizons
and spirals under darkened eye
on recoil, on tiptoes
that beckon to ride without saddle
eating ego and back peddle
whole seasons by the mouthful
each blinked snug
and overshadowed by determination
dancing as singular sensations
serenity swimming river's bend
circles slipping outward
elliptic goldfish spinning
hypnosis beneath lotus
opposite ever ends of the prism
A coy wink of rhythm
sway and schism cast
flailing from a cyclical sun
suchness dissipating
with the touch of dusk
and surrendered to fog
unveiled de ja vu to wax
to fauna melting orange in the distance
beyond moon picturesque
as a resonant echo breathing
armored against the crow’s call
feather fall looming, changeling
Sisyphean song obelisk
songs and sirens that got away
at nineteen hertz and rising
from the bottom of the arched heart
leaves falling scattered, witnessed
to swaddle as hinges the seasons
as transcendence including
wreck's collection magic chasm
rising and riding a tidal twist
we are each and all the alchemists
that decide the sacred
feinting flourishes we entertain
where nostalgia shades it's crispness
where hope holds hands with memory
to sip the nectar from the nightly charades
in the details that kiss the bottom lips
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 10:23 PM UTC
These words were here so long,
they seeped into the page.
They were here,
but not really understood.
For there are gaping nuances,
Dialects of swift innocence
Lost,
in the ever-branching limb
of comfort and necessity
I brush their meaning;
when I stay,
But dream of leaving.
For they are transient in nature,
And made in the same ways as dreams.
I need only observe and dream with them,
but lose them in their spastic feints.
Like, perfectly evolved fractals,
dissolving, back to chaos.
Yes, they are made like dreams,
I know because they go on and on,
Seemingly forever.
and they form us,
As we weave,
and tangle their meaning.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
I’m on the right road of the wrong path
Should be first but I am dead last
Heading true north but I’m south bound
Trying to swim, more like trying to drown
Look I am just trying to move forward in my life. Put some distance in my rearview and grow in my life. Catch a rhythm leading up and explore in this life. Soaring over shooting stars and ****** success with the rest of my life.
Take a step forward but I am yanked back
Spun around and Ka thwacked
Speaking truths but fed lies
Watch the vision forward, wither and die
Play the game but I cannot compete. Each new rule leads me to defeat. Picked only to be released. Now I am behind again, dealing with a handicap so massive it’s missive. Rolling die when I should be spinning the wheel. Kinging when I should be checking. Moving pieces that don’t belong.
So, I try again to play the game
Looking fly but really lame
New tactics but the results stay the same
Stay out of trouble but get the blame
All and all I see the end. The way out is to make my way out. No feints or fake outs. Just a simple plan laid out. No exaggerated, grandiose, exuberated exit. Just a normal walk-out.
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 1:34 AM UTC
My pride pours out on you and I am a desert. You can have all of it. You have.
The vanity of remembrance feints like an open wound.
It is time only, that has helped me to see my self. It is not truth.
That is untamed and unplottable.
Even I do not belong where I have been, but that is irrelevant. Hush, now.
The feelings pour out, and unmutual.
The effort is worthless. Remark.
Somewhere azaleas trash the ground in pallour.
The more space escapes us, the more deformed I become.
An unpleasant presence in the black of your absence.
If I have ever loved nothing, I have loved.
I am looking for a language that only I know.
How I ruminate on bones.
Richard Grossman said, “There is nothing more terrible than loss, which cannot be measured. Lost loss.”
How do I say, I miss your hands.
How do I say anything?
The slow movement of away may be the calmest and most difficult thing
I have ever endured.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
Like a bird against a window
I am convinced paradise lies beyond reflection
through this force field
constantly chasing your shadow
I believe it guides me where I want to go
though it feints movement to fool me sometimes
I have bashed my brains out on false promises
and shadows are only after all
human shaped darkness
Sep 3, 2019
Sep 3, 2019 at 4:59 PM UTC