"manliest" poems
*Feelin’ like a new model keepin’ thoughts in a safe
Nothin’ but new beginnings while maintainin’ the faith
Of better days ahead, walkin’ away instead
The world on my shoulders while walkin’ on eggshells
Difficult steps lead to redemption, no need for attention
Dowsin’ my sorrows in drinks with a fear of reinvention
Weakened souls lackin’ ambition – ones that we attend to
Distracted by the means to makin’ profit
Pharaohs and kings reach Ozymandias
Castle of the manliest reduced to rubble
Inspiration's a privilege, the uninitiated struggle
Lookin’ to the stars closer to Mercury
Celebrating longer than a single anniversary
Build the padlocked building blocks of the brain, preventin’ burglary
Intellect protection needs remedial advancement
Followin' the lessons and morals of real testaments
Crimson waters divided by Moses, halving the sea
Aidin’ people across, the shepherd leadin’ the sheep
Heated cycle of violence by disciples
De-escalated by the sacred teachings of the bible
Able to color-code their understandin’ with a cipher
Gifted in nature, minus robotics turnin’ sentient*
WE MARCH!
*Hand-in-hand in unison! A unit full of sin
But we protect the world from Judases,
Our doubts are in the wind
A state of peace we feel the crew is in
The rest will follow soon,
Our inner voice of hate is ludicrous
It sings a hollow tune.
Leavin' this place without askin' just where the exit is,
Keep a steady pace as we're headin' right into exodus.
Lessons are taught to help you rise from the fall,
Nirvana awaitin' – you better answer the call.*
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
It's one of those days.
One of those days
Where my mind punches
Everything I pass.
Where the thought of
Her not being anywhere near
Feels a little like the way I
Found it hard to breathe when
She wasn't, then. Only worse by a
World's width.
It's one of those days.
One of those days when the
Manliest of my
Innermost manliness wants to
Place its head on a chest,
Where naked ******* say nothing
Other than: *"Cry ahead, little boy.
All you are is welcome.
All I am
Is here."*
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 7:15 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
The artist picked his inspiration.
The artist found his muse.
He fell in love with her,
But his love was refused.
Until he painted a picture so beautiful
She shed the tears of love.
He need speak no words
Through the painting she would blush.
She was a permanent solution
To a problem many artists face.
He had a troubled life,
And she put him in his place.
Their love was natural,
Their love was pure.
She too had a disease,
But he was the cure.
She would stare into his hazel eyes,
While he stared back into her blues.
It wasn't but three months,
Before they said “I do”.
The touch of her lips
Felt like heaven in his hands,
They would lock lips
For hours on end.
Her hands brought comfort,
Her smile brought joy.
She was so desirable
She was like Helen of troy.
Once dark paintings he made,
Now make the saddest person smile.
He developed a sense of positivity
It became his well known style.
But life is not a happy story,
It has no happy end,
Misery accompanies joy,
They're like two best friends.
The love was still there,
But only in his brain.
She wanted out,
No matter the pain.
She packed up and left,
Leaving nothing behind.
While he went out for flowers
To bring back to his lovely wife.
No note was written,
No trace of where she'd gone.
He waited for days,
Wondering what he did wrong.
They say real men cry,
So he must be the manliest of men
He felt his heart break,
And his brain snap from its stem.
He trashed his house,
He trashed his paintings.
He punched the walls
And his body began shaking.
He stabbed his work
He screamed to the sky
He fell to his knees
And began to cry.
From that day forward
He remarried to *****
He was never a winner,
He was always meant to lose.
Once a popular painter
Because of his happy work,
Now only paints sadness
Like he did before he found her.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
The War Correspondent
A helicopter skeetered bravely in
And pitched and yawed against the enemy fire
That wasn’t there. The manliest of men
Descended unto us in flawless attire
His tailored khaki suit was starched and pressed
Its creases as sharp as a Ka-bar knife
Never was a reporter more perfectly dressed
For getting the news while risking his life
The C.O. sped him past our positions
And hustled him into the T.O.C.1
To ensure each noun and preposition
Would be written for the greater good, you see
Much ink and Scotch were undoubtedly spilled
In air-conditioned comfort, no heat or mud;
With scripted heroics his notebook was filled
No need to stain his suit with his precious blood
After an hour he was hustled back
To Saigon for an evening reception
After he wrote of a great attack
And wired New York his immaculate deception
A helicopter skeetered bravely out
And yawed and pitched against a sniper’s shot
That wasn’t there. A great Communist rout?
There’s more than one kind of jungle rot
1Tactical Operations Center - command bunker, often air-conditioned.
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 4:29 PM UTC
once there was a boy
he wanted to be a man
but he misunderstood
he saw these self-proclaimed "men"
stoic big strong
sweep a lady off their feet
smooth as butter on a frying pan
he played dressup
crisp suits and hats
I fear he failed to realize though
he was a man
in fact the manliest of them all
a mark of a man is not
how many women swoon in his presence
the way he walks
the depth in his voice
it's his compassion
to be truly himself
to love fully
of pure heart
for that is the man to rule all men
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
as if sleep is surrender, beckoning to me, as some sort of a menacing creature from a cartoon series,w ith a fishtail and a gibbering little smile, beckoning, and I am defenseless yet also powerful, sitting on my carpet, contemplating, fathoming both at the same time, some sort of monster of expressionless decodiing, opposites etracting, the big electron molecule, formulating, loving, inspiring, some sort of microscopic revelation fuming at the nostrils, tainting your insights, understnadinging your favorite disvoering, letting it be what it is, letting it go away peacefully, the biggest challenges in life, making their way to the center of your nut, and your whipping for breath, bearing the best and manliest ******* bandana, and you are wearing a mustache, in deep trying to let go of hostilities, but your are swept with madness, your eyes hurt and your mind flickers with the pride of others, interested in telepathy, the kunds of shops where they take your money for their intuitions, spirituality as a mystery that is uplifting, some sort of malice that has wreaked havoc and yet brought on the curious which brings on the mystery which brings on the fun, you’re at it
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
I remember when I thought I was weak
Sometimes I still do
But then I remember what a friend once said to me
She was trying to calm me down from a panic and asthma attack
I sobbed and apologized for being so weak
She told me to look at her as she rubbed soothing circles on my back
"Max, you are one of the strongest people I know
Everyday you get up and you live
You struggle to get your binder on
You struggle to be recognized as the boy you are
You deal with idiots who call you names and taunt you
So no, Max you are the strongest and manliest of men I know."
That night I learn that I wasn't weak, but that I am strong
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 8:35 PM UTC