"johann" poems
The equilibrium of the ecosystem is challenged by the rites of the 11th Century Norsemen. Smell the pine in the forests of North America where the dream catcher swings in the branches of the misty Boreal forest.
We must never forget in our futile plight for supremacy, that the roots of trees are deeply connected to the annals of history where contemporary grandiosity is a mere mirage of what we call sophistication.
Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is where Johann Sebastian Bach communicated his message as clear as the cries of those who were slaughtered in the Highland Clearances. Parallel octaves of our Viking ancestry are firmly established and will never be altered despite the quests of the New World Order.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
An Open Letter to Really Important People
The Old Dime Box, Texas Statement
A Manifesto Made Manifest in Manifesting Manifestingness
We post this serious looking document
Bloated with long vocabulary words
Sodden with weak dependent clauses
Marshaled in numbered ranks, down, down they go
To the GossipNet all serious like
And everyone has to pay attention to us
Because it’s AN OPEN LETTER, y’know -
You may sign it if you’ve got letters behind your name
Signatories:
Apostle-Disciple Magic Dawn, DD., Non-Binary, Author of Green Polar Bears I Am, Co-Equal-Director of the Anti-Oppressionist Theatre Against the Occupation, Agent of the Revolution, Auteur, Guest on The Wheel of Fortune and Parent of Two AMAZING children of indeterminate Gender with Their AWESOME and AMAZING Life-Partner Sven-Marie.
Massive Ferguson, M.Ed., Poet, Rector of Admissions, The University of Where the Old Circuit City Use to Be
Poncy Tworbst, M.A., PUBLISHED Author, Seeker, Inspirational Singer-Songwriter, PUBLISHED
Heather-Mistee La’ Thwitte-Tworbst, Ph.D., Director of Library Resources at Saint Margaret ****** Homeschool Resource Authority Collective, Inc., Certified Ordained Consecrated Priest in The Worldwide Church of Me-ness and Pastor of the World-Famous Weddings ‘R’ Us Chapel of Rainbow Dreams in Magdalena, New Mexico
Lawrence Hall, HSG, Thinker of Thinky-Ness and, Like, Stuff, Endowed Chair he found at Goodwill, His Mark: X
(Sean Ian Johann Johnson, MBA, J.D., Chief Photocopier Operator at Donald Trump University and Fashion Editor at Gun, God, and Guts Magazine, was not able to sign today; he is sharing a cell with other White House staff and patiently awaiting The Day of Greatness.)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
She wears t-shirts of the Beatles
And she loves the Rolling Stones
She wakes up to David Bowie
And she dreams of the Ramones
She goes out to dance clubs nightly
Till her ear drums both get blown
But, she has a deep dark secret
That her friends will never know
At night when she is by herself
When the room is nice and dark
She slips beneath the covers
With Johann Sebastian Bach
She's a closet classic ******
And her name is Amber Clark
She just loves orchestral music
The rock and roll is just a lark
Her friends think something classical
Is something for your folks
They cannot play an instrument
They cannot read the notes
They think that chamber music is
What people play on boats
But she has a deep dark secret
She loves the stuff that Chopin wrote
At night when she is by herself
And her friends have gotten ******
She slips beneath the covers
And she listens to some Liszt
She listens to it many times
In case there's things she's missed
She's a closet classic ******
She has "Baroque" upon her wrist
She listens to the music
That her friends like to be cool
If she told them what she listens to
They'd laugh her out of school
So, when they go out clubbing
She will join them as a rule
But...ah that deep dark secret
This girl is no ones fool
She listens to Beethoven
And she knows each piece by heart
She knows where one bar ends
And another one will start
She can play most every instrument
And she knows most every part
She's a classic closet ******
But she still knows Boyce and Hart
She has cds in her library
And most sit there untouched
When her friends are gone they don't get played
She doesn't like them much
She would rather hear a symphony
By a composter who was Dutch
But there's that deep dark secret
And she won't use it a crutch
At night when she is warm in bed
She listens to Mozart
She needs a little Nacht Musique
To open up her heart
It's a piece that sets her mind a blaze
It hits her like a dart
She's a closet classic ******
And she keeps her worlds apart
By day she sings Bruce Springsteen
At night she listens to
Composers that her friends don't know
They're so old they're new
So she keeps her world a secret
For she knows what they would do
If they found she didn't know
Where were you in sixty two
But at night she is a ******
And she listens to Mozart
She needs that piece of music
To shoot an arrow through her heart
Eine Kleine Nachmusic
She conducts every part
She's our Closet Classic ******
shhh.....the song's about to start...
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
Got the call before noon.
I can't believe this news.
Jerry, you're gone.
I can't believe this news.
My nephews and sister left all alone.
I can't believe this news.
I can't process.
I can't.
How could this happen?
It is too soon for God to need you.
My sister needs you.
Johann needs you.
Jaben needs you.
I'm so sad.
You're gone.
This has to be a joke.
What a cruel cruel joke.
I need time to process.
I need this to sink in.
I need. I need.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
i suggested mending when you asked about weaving.
yet what goes round comes round. i find myself weaving,
at the mill.
how apt.
was i weaving on pegs, the stuff of dreams,
addictive wool gathering storms and whether,
or not, we should make and mend. the old way
Johann Botha.
sbm.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 2:29 AM UTC
As I let my mind wander into time, and release these binds that have me confined, I began to feel a great energy, like the sun had been compressed and put into me, and as time tic tocs and unwinds into its trail of infinity. I realize a trinity mind body soul, they burn as a whole, for the mightiest of goals. and as time unwinds it'll leave you behind. unless you get your spot in, a line of legacys never to be forgotten
Confucius, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Martin Luther King Jr, George Washington, Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara, Nelson Mendala, Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, Steve Jobs, Stephen Hawkins, Leonardo Da Vinci, Wolfgang Amedeus Mozart, nikola tesla, Wael Ghonim, Jimi Hendrix, Joseph Stiglitz, Reed Hastings, François Rabelais, Archimedes, Sigmund Frued, Charles Darwin, Aryabhata, Bob Marley, Garrett Morgan, George Washington Carver, Aristotle, John Locke, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Plato, Galileo Galilei...and many many more...
Stand for something. Think outside the box. Evolve and express yourself. Make a difference #STEM #LegacyToIfinity
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Ich denke dein,
wenn mir der Sonne schimmer
Vom Meere strahlt;
Ich denke dein,
wenn sich des Mondes Flimmer
In Quellen malt.
Ich sehe dich,
wenn auf dem fernen Wege
Der Staub sich hebt,
In tiefer Nacht,
wenn auf dem schmalen Stege
Der Wandrer bebt.
Ich höre dich,
wenn dort mit dumpfem Rauschen
Die Welle steigt.
Im stillen Haine geh' ich oft zu lauschen,
Wenn alles schweigt.
Ich bin bei dir,
du seist auch noch so ferne,
Du bist mir nah!
Die Sonne sinkt,
bald leuchten mir die Sterne.
O wärst du da!
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
*English Translation:
I Think of You
I think of you,
when I see the sun’s shimmer
Gleaming from the sea.
I think of you,
when the moon’s glimmer
Is reflected in the springs.
I see you,
when on the distant road
The dust rises,
In deep night,
when on the narrow bridge
The traveler trembles.
I hear you,
when with a dull roar
The wave surges.
In the quiet grove I often go to listen
When all is silent.
I am with you,
however far away you may be,
You are next to me!
The sun is setting,
soon the stars will shine upon me.
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 4:24 PM UTC
"There is nothing worse than aggressive stupidity."
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Ps
I hadn't noticed?
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
These are modern English translations of the "Xenia" epigrams written in collaboration by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller.
#2 - Verse versus Kiss
She says an epigram’s too terse
to reveal her tender heart in verse ...
but really, darling, ain’t the thrill
of a kiss much shorter still?
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#5 - Criticism
Why don’t I openly criticize the man? Because he’s a friend;
thus I reproach him in silence, as I do my own heart.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#11 - Highest Holiness
What is holiest? This heart-felt love
binding spirits together, now and forever.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#12 - Love versus Desire
You love what you have, and desire what you lack
because a rich nature expands, while a poor one contracts.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#19 - Nymph and Satyr
As shy as the trembling doe your horn frightens from the woods,
she flees the huntsman, fainting, uncertain of love.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#20 - Desire
What stirs the virgin’s heaving ******* to sighs?
What causes your bold gaze to brim with tears?
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#23 - The Apex I
Everywhere women yield to men, but only at the apex
do the manliest men surrender to femininity.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#24 - The Apex II
What do we mean by the highest? The crystalline clarity of triumph
as it shines from the brow of a woman, from the brow of a goddess.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#25 -Human Life
Young sailors brave the sea beneath ten thousand sails
while old men drift ashore on any bark that avails.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#35 - Dead Ahead
What’s the hardest thing of all to do?
To see clearly with your own eyes what’s ahead of you.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#36 - Unexpected Consequence
Friends, before you utter the deepest, starkest truth, please pause,
because straight away people will blame you for its cause.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
#41 - Earth versus Heaven
By doing good, you nurture humanity;
but by creating beauty, you scatter the seeds of divinity.
―from “Xenia” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich Schiller, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keyword/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, epitaph, epigram, German, Germany, translation, love, kiss, friendship, desire, holy, holiness, earth, heaven, beauty, divinity, nature, spirit
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 4:39 AM UTC
Today I write an ode to Joe’s
Procurator, seller, and trader
For my better half it is your coffees
For me, your store entire, for
Your bounty fills my refrigerator
Treasures spicy from India, Japan
Brought to us by your Trader San
From south of the border
Travel goodies galore-a
Compliments of Trader Jose
Then there’s Trader Giotto from Italy
Without a doubt, his yummies call me
There are Jo-Jo’s, curries, oh cho-co-late sweet
And did I mention lotions for feet
There is Pilgrim Joe’s and Trader Ming’s
Who bring to us the finer things
The wines, the drinks, the healthy oils
I dream at night of all your spoils
By way of mention, I cannot forget
Baker Josef who serves to us
Tasty bagels, delicious baguettes
Arabian Joe’s and Joseph Brau
Bring us falafels and rings in our beer
Oh, Trader Johann's and Trader Jacques'
For bodies clean and lips that are fresh
Your Joe's Kids keep mummy's happy
Trader Darwin's help us all stay healthy
Did I, could I, miss anyone?
Don’t want to leave out even one
Your marinated meats, your frozen treats
From Diner Joe’s there are lunches quick
For us working stiffs, his heat-n-eats
Oh, pumpkin scones and cereal O’s
I should not forget your sample bar
Where tastys await to test for my plate
And did I say how amazing you are?
While others sell just fluff and stuff
Of your yummy goodness
I cannot get enough
So if one day soon the Joe’s disappear
I’ll not fret, no i’ll not fear
On me for sure you can count the cause
Right down to your last breadcrumb
For shelves will be bursting in my garage
Where I'll be holding them all, without ransom
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
a small craft,
barely deserving of such a compliment as
c r a f t e d,
a few boards, just enough caulking,
made quick, with no regard for artistry,
but sturdy none the less,
purposed for naught,
other than to get from there to
here
even, then, all the more,
as if time chose to reverse itself,
solidified it, this ships soul strength
rather than wore~warped
its character essential
unclear who was the wood
and who, the caulking glue,
but they held together in bonding so powerful
when strangers asked
what its purpose be,
this modest boat,
the locals
to a one,
always answered,
answered always consistent:
ancient and ungainly, not shapely,
purposed as if to be, simply
a reminder
that nothing
could ere
be graced more,
complimented, honored as,
*seaworthy,
than this human loving crafting,*
long-lasting,
maybe ever-lasting,
a tiny notional idea,
that two could get
you from here to
there
it is in the more stronger strength,
of one thing
created from a loving,
two combinatory realization,
ruled and ruling,
this
craft
came to be
ruler of the sea of humanity
8/15/17 12:36am
born, falling, borne into sleep, to
the music of Johann Pachelbel
combined with a gentling snoring
Aug 5, 2017
Aug 5, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
You're my solitude, my course
The majestic random
Violins in the Penumbra
Roars of Gogin
My imperial dark light
Wisdom of the Incas
I see thy empty soul
You're the soul
My sickness, disease
Fevers
And the onomastic music begun
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
You can’t, if you can’t feel it, if it never
Rises from the soul, and sways
The heart of every single hearer,
With deepest power, in simple ways.
You’ll sit forever, gluing things together,
Cooking up a stew from other’s scraps,
Blowing on a miserable fire,
Made from your heap of dying ash.
Let apes and children praise your art,
If their admiration’s to your taste,
But you’ll never speak from heart to heart,
Unless it rises up from your heart’s space.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
*Beethoven once said of the cantor of Leipzig
“Not a stream but an ocean.”*
Sebastian Bach wove sonic tapestries
and scoffed at notions of genius
“Anyone who pays the price can do it.”
Whether for Sunday’s choir or *****
or for a palace fete of state,
The fountains of his bounteous spring
embellished every age and station.
Yet he could crack a joke or two
in a cantata to coffee’s pleasures -
sipping from a sturdy cup
of nature's matchless brew.
Flutists, fiddlers, singers, organists,
children and masters alike,
have netted hearty sustenance
from the seas of his boundless vision.
But modesty forbade him boast
the importance of his station -
affixing to his noblest works,
a trio of humblest words,
“Soli Deo Gloria.”
December, 2007
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
early morning, the hoses out,
washing away the fluids,
the **** the *****
hallmark low points of the prior night's,
bons moments de roulement,
rolling, burning, down into the sewers
dark coffee, beignets,
white powdered sugar,
a cleanser of both
dirtied bodies and souls,
makeup~coverup of human excesses
this morn, the sun,
aidez-moi with an assist
of a canon and a gigue,
a string ensemble (parfait!),
three violins and a continuo,
a quartet in the quarter,
blossoming Johann, budding now
in my ears and
my purification process
de bourbon
is now
fini
the Nth new day has begun,
the Nth purification has begun,
but my first in the French Quarter
7:35 am
May 23rd, 2014
New Orleans
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.
Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.
These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?
Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!
Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!
Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!
Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!
One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...
Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.
I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!
What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!
Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, skull, bones, charnel, house, grave, souls, ghosts, spirit, flesh, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 4:02 AM UTC
about 250 years ago
young Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s tale of Werther’s
passionate unfulfilled love and ensuing suicide
triggered a wave of suicides across all Europe
the author was more than embarrassed
it is reported he was actually quite shocked
by this effect of his romantic writ
from then on he avoided the portrayal
of hypersensitive romantic youths
with their emotional entanglements
and often fatal ends
and preferred dramas of the simpler sort
like the eternal fight of good and evil
the striving for almightiness and universal knowledge
dilemmas of obedience and command
et cetera
today, like then, young people
go through the stifling pains of unrequited love
and feel they hover at the brink of the abyss
ready to jump
then, as today, young Werther’s suicide
is nothing but a waste of youthful life
that could have brought him many happy moments
had he allowed himself to stay alive
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
Goethe's ballad - spooky and weird,
About a dad and his feverish kid.
They’re riding through forests, boy pretty scared
Of a ghost king who won’t stay hid.
The boy sees the Erlking, all creepy and such,
Dad: “It’s fog, you ***** just sleep!”
But the spirit keeps talking, a bit too much,
Oh, what a sly little creep.
“Come play!” says the ghost, “I’ve got cool stuff!”
The kid’s like, “Dad, he’s being weird!”
Dad’s still in denial, acting all tough,
While his son’s getting more and more scared.
The Erlking’s persistence is quite absurd,
Lures the boy with his daughters and more.
The dad keeps on riding, not hearing a word,
Kid is shaken right to the core.
Dad blames the nature, keeps talking crap,
For him - the story needs proof.
Eventually, they make it home, but oh snap!
The kid’s kicked the bucket, gone ****
So what did we learn from this creepy tale
Besides, "don’t ride sick through the night?"
That Goethe loved drama on an epic scale,
And making dads look not so bright.
In short: It’s a story of fever and fails,
Denial, and a ride through the night.
The forest plays tricks, the creepy prevails,
And a kid giving up the fight.
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 4:44 PM UTC
Musically speaking
I'm just a single note
one of many squiggles
Johann Sebastien wrote
A note alone makes not a tune
A letter not a word
As part of some sweet melody
is where I should be heard
So put me with my brothers
arranged across the staff
A thing of beauty I become
Thanks to my masters craft
May 2, 2010
May 2, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
[Revolution Girl] United White City Mother
of a Girl Who Loves Black The man is beautiful
and beautiful. America is the best color of water.
Three bridges called hot naked dead European hair
and American blood scent should close hair
In Italy's morning sun Italian
silver and Italian silver, Johann's amazing story
in Africa East Africa meets Queen It's a lady's romantic
lost, lost friendship will eat the living Roman Empire.
Russian Figures 14 Golden Queen Brochure Online
Brochure
Brochure Online DS Mobile Swatman of Mobile Beers
Opens The Door To The Dead History of the Wall
of Fortress is a wonderful girl. Unemployment in truth
reads the pronunciation of prostitutes coffee. Christ's
Friends Jews make robots representing peace instead
of human happiness. The brilliant knowledge of the
nature of the owl brings many rocks. The rich color
we consider during the census is in the uncertainty of the game.
The genius of the geographical border is Germany's
first sweetness, as Canada recalls. Behind Asian
Center in ***** Languages Strange Love Crash Crazy
Park is Here Blind Blind Walking Washington Stable
Deluxe Theater ****** Birthday Thanks to Smoky
Alarm Clock Works War Hero Heaven Vitamin's Vitamin
is a form of king, mom, luck, sister on edge of happiness,
Einstein, A pregnant woman fighting the king,
Barbie's message does not appear, she begins to stop at PA.
It's a computer that belongs to a runner who calls goodbye.
Dreams dream of dreamers dreaming of worshipers,
addicts, disappointed in regional interviews,
the prophets continued the testimony that the prophet
made a portrait in the northeast. As it changes, Thomas
changes a bit from Jack's cabinet thread
and reads Betty's material.
Brothers hiding behind the head of the angel. Fishfish
gets the magic unit of measurement. His black and black
cocktails are decorated with teeth and cold rocks around
his eyes. Pocket knife; The knife's knife is a great gift
for the devil's soul.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
“I am the spirit that negates.
And rightly so, for all that comes to be
Deserves to perish wretchedly;
'Twere better nothing would begin.
Thus everything that that your terms, sin,
Destruction, evil represent—
That is my proper element.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust - Part One
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
I watch Monster,
And I can see it in myself,
My depression, my recession,
I want to sleep,
Curl up in a ball,
Stop it, make it all stop,
but the ball keeps on bouncing,
And all I can hear, All I can feel,
"Munch Much, Crunch Crunch,
Gobble Gobble, Gulp."
Look at me, look at me,
He says, smiling devilishly,
So attractive, wouldn't you say?
For an ugly chubby excuse of a man?
The laugh, it doesnt end,
But it never reaches him,
The monster inside me has grown this large!
Oh yes, and Johann was such a beautiful name too.
But there was no one left to call him by it,
and let that be a lesson for you.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC