"unbreathing" poems
Angry skies and gnarled trees
Fish fly by in the wind
Spitting out water
Unbreathing
Pavement's grand fissures
Bushes with briars
Five feet long
Tearing at the flesh of passersby
Grass of razors
Chairs of torture
Tables of barbed wire
Disneyland
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
All the More Human, for Eve Pandora
by Michael R. Burch
a lullaby for the first human Clone
God provide the soul, and let her sleep
be natural as ours, unplagued by dreams
of being someone else, lost in the deep
wild swells of losing all that "human" means ...
and do not let her come to doubt herself—
that she is as we are, so much alike
in frailty, in the books that line the shelf
that tell us who we are—a rickety ****
against the flood of doubt—that we are more
than cells and chance, that love, perhaps, exists
because of someone else who would endure
such pain because some part of her persists
in us, and calls us blesséd by her bed,
become a saint at last, in whose frail arms
we see ourselves—the gray won out of red,
the ash of blonde—till love is safe from harm
and all that "human" means is that we live
in doubt, and die in doubt, and only love
the more because we only know to strive
against an end we loathe and fear. What of?—
we cannot say, imagining the Night
as some weird darkened structure caving in
to cold enormous pressure. Lacking sight,
we lie unbreathing, thinking breath a sin ...
and that is to be human. You are us—
true mortal, child of doubt, hopeful and curious.
Keywords/Tags: Eve, Pandora, human, clone, humanity, human being, human condition, evolution, birth, death, life and death, soul, soulmate, saint, youth
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 7:51 AM UTC
We named you Daisy
for your white fur, because
we liked to name our cats after flowers.
But you were not only a white cat;
you were "odd-eyed white",
one orange and one blue.
Everyone loved your beautiful quirkiness.
You lived as our other cats did,
tame house-cat in the day,
but free to come and go;
half-wild at night,
following your instincts,
even if they were dangerous at times.
Then, one sunny morning,
I saw you from the bedroom window,
running back home, across the road,
and that time it really was dangerous,
as a car came past, exceeding the speed limit,
because in a race between speeding car
and running cat,
in the event of a tie,
the cat loses.
I ran downstairs and found you
by the gate,
warm, unmarked,
but unmoving, unbreathing
Carrying you gently to the back garden,
I laid you on the ground,
preparing to dig your grave,
as Marmaduke, our tomcat, came by.
Not the father of any kittens,
but surrogate to all our females.
After a birth
he knew what to do.
He would visit briefly,
sniff the mother, sniff the kittens,
walk off, apparently unconcerned,
and a day or two later
return with a mouse for mother.
That’s what father cats do,
even surrogates.
Only that day there was no birth,
no kittens,
and this time
he sniffed at you,
sniffed at the hole I had started digging,
and walked off
in complete puzzlement.
This time he did not know what to do.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 4:27 AM UTC
what fragments lay in stone and silent wait
for sunrise creeping stealthily through dark
to back-light marbled forms who knew Petrarch
truncated arms which strain to touch and sate
a cold and calculated yearning carved
in everlasting porous rock compressed
as otherworldly beauty barely dressed
they stand exposed and gorgeous, proud yet starved
to feast on passion's fragments etched inside
by sculptors long since sated, fed and dead
who pounded love with hammer, chisel, sweat
from abstract concept into sanctified
emotion pulsing from unbreathing stone;
stories bled from humankind alone
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 4:35 AM UTC
I was brought here upon a cloud of unfairness
a cloud which I tried to undo
with hammer and pickaxe I toiled away,
but then I fell through
Into a sea of despair
which the cloud had brought down
in torrents and waves
it forced me to drown
I was still, and unbreathing
Like a dead person should be
emotionless and unfeeling
thats how they described me
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 11:26 PM UTC
Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters, sure and fast,
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
Far in thy realm withdrawn
Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom,
And glorious ages gone
Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb.
Childhood, with all its mirth,
Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground,
And last, Man's Life on earth,
Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.
Thou hast my better years,
Thou hast my earlier friends--the good--the kind,
Yielded to thee with tears--
The venerable form--the exalted mind.
My spirit yearns to bring
The lost ones back--yearns with desire intense,
And struggles hard to wring
Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence.
In vain--thy gates deny
All passage save to those who hence depart;
Nor to the streaming eye
Thou giv'st them back--nor to the broken heart.
In thy abysses hide
Beauty and excellence unknown--to thee
Earth's wonder and her pride
Are gathered, as the waters to the sea;
Labours of good to man,
Unpublished charity, unbroken faith,--
Love, that midst grief began,
And grew with years, and faltered not in death.
Full many a mighty name
Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered;
With thee are silent fame,
Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.
Thine for a space are they--
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;
Thy gates shall yet give way,
Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past!
All that of good and fair
Has gone into thy womb from earliest time,
Shall then come forth to wear
The glory and the beauty of its prime.
They have not perished--no!
Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet,
Smiles, radiant long ago,
And features, the great soul's apparent seat.
All shall come back, each tie
Of pure affection shall be knit again;
Alone shall Evil die,
And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.
And then shall I behold
Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung,
And her, who, still and cold,
Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young.
1.1k
You enshadow all
Beneath
You
Floating like fluid in
Liquid *flutter in
Slow motion*
A ghost in water
Framed with daylight
Dancing on
Underwater waves
The most beautiful dead
Object in the
World
I am an alien in
Your realm
Unarmed against the forces of
Your otherworldly
Guise
As
I bow unto You
As Poet
As Poet and unbreathing
Man
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:23 AM UTC
The rusted pylons
the endless rain
the drifting soils
spoils of war
spoiled, spoilt
remember the illuminating fear
soldiers of war
Baby laid flat unbreathing
pillow cases ajar by the splintered doors
eye sore, the sadness in your I's
when the plane touched down and you knew I was home
where the wind blew gales
over all these fields
and the way you thought of them,
brought tears to my eyes
or just because I was thinking of our child
- who died
My deer lay down, right here
this time
its different
this time it ends
Stray bullets with names etched out
it didn't matter, the importance of the target
green grass turned red
should have been safe until the end
lowered now into a manifest grave
Now the moment had come
now the songs had been sung
now the dirt it is ground fine
and so now is the time
- He who watched them descend
will be here to the end.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
We seek love because in love we are validated in our perfect flaws and exactitude of malformation and in love we are given reason not to hate ourselves for the things we see are wrong but cannot change even if we spent a millenia in an instant or infinite instants in eternity struggling to shake off the shackles of our humanity which is both our captor and liberator in this,
life,
yes we recognize its importance in allowing us to be but we spend the congregation of moments we are given in that holy being damning it, for it also makes us imperfect and in our imperfections is the capacity to do harm unto the world which we love so much,
and so,
we equate these imperfections with evil and seek to expunge them with all our might of will and all our cleverness of wit and all our screaming and pounding and passion of
soul,
but it is all in vain for these things which we despise so greatly are joined at the sutures with our very being and hence have many good but troubled lambs of the internal apocalypse chosen to end that being for sake of ending that malformation, though they know this is wrong, but it is the only solution in trying to remove the weight of one’s existence and hence the weight of existence from one’s mind and so they sleep easily,
unbreathing,
unknowing,
and having completely cleansed the burden of themselves from this immaculate and gorgeous universe which they love so, but they are also
unloved.
And it is in love that we are validated, both in our perfect flaws and exactitude of malformation,
it is in love that our weight on the world is not lifted, no, but counterbalanced and nullified,
and in that way,
we are set free.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
I lie here alone between starched white sheets. This bed is not my own. Flint black darkness holds the molten soul of me. Periodicaly a car will pass the window, and I will think of ***** again. It is cold. I am cold. The expansion of crossbeams create a symphony in the silence. Photographic and wet are the memories. Sepia toned with Regret Washing over me. In this basin I float unbreathing. I am alone and I know that it is correct. I am in line. Words create an avalanche in the silent room. Pangs of sorrow grow hollow in my bones. I am cold. Trails. Thought patterns electrical as I spin. Among starched sheets among stars I reel. Reaching out....I know not what for. I feel it. spider building web upon my soul and if I move I will disrupt it. About me are the whitewashed walls beyond that are the mountains, tall and smothered in fog.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
My mind is like crank, turning out ideas
Look around this room, no cobwebs here
The door is always open, I'm hoping you see me
As just the same as you, a man with little plan
But still stand for whatever belief I hold,
The fact is all the gold in the world
Isn't worth your integrity, regrettably,
Some can be sold, I stand before you
With a five and a seven, still never fold
I'm that wild card, that was hard to shuffle,
Feathers covered in oil and ruffled,
The secret is I've got ridges, Forget being religious,
You're a god, make a miracle, they may shun you,
Like a man believing in a world that's spherical.
Still someone has to climb that ladder,
At day's end you can look in a mirror
And it may not shatter.
Life is good, the hell of today, it fades.
Put down the rope and take up knot - tying
Similarly, the people who look down at you for not trying
Are not trying to see how hard you are trying.
It's not worth crying to the same lace pillow case
About that dream you believe you aren't good enough to chase
Fads and trends blend until you can't tell them apart
But real passion is only found in heart and reflected through eyes
In an adult world, that part of humans seems to die.
Alright. Jump and possibly fly.
Build people up with dreams like legos
And let go of the expectation of current standings
The runway may not be clear but you don't need landing
Plan for the best, the worst just ends in a hearse
Believe me, I've been unbreathing.
A good night, I fly into?
drag me from my flesh, I'm not leaving.
Don't believe me, I'll almost die twenty times with a heart beating.
I'm not leaving.
You'll have to **** a soul from my soles until this ground swallows me whole.
Still this body will never go cold.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
i remember when jackie robinson broke the "color barrier" in baseball
--------------------
once, i went with my mother to down town philadelphia.
i had never seen "coloreds" before.....the sense of poverty appalled me
they seemed so "burdened"...so unbreathing
------------------
i was being trained in the art of "studying"......to become a doctor, or at least a lawyer
when i ....
........................"became of age"
i was gone
-------------------
*** wee reese was my hero....
whenever a hotel refused jackie service he, too would leave and , if necessary, spend the night wth jackie walking the streets
---------------------------
sometimes........
..........................each one of us must
"cross the line"
AND THAT TIME IS "NOW"
MY FRIENDS
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 12:53 PM UTC
When I have died,
Will the people I cared about come watch me
Eyes closed, unbreathing
In my coffin
Will people come and watch me
In admiration of what I had achieved, the course of my life
Or will they cast their gaze down onto my pale face
And say scornfully of what a terrible person I was,
And that they were glad I am no longer there?
Will people look at me pitifully
Pondering of a strange reason
As to why this beautiful human
Had to depart forever?
But after the funeral, what?
So what?
Will what they say matter?
Will their grievances be like sounds lost to the winds
Carrying them far away to other lands?
Will I be remembered by them,
So that when they’re having
A casual conversation
Over tea or coffee,
Or just happened to be passing by,
Maybe they’ll see the light grey dressing of the clouds
Who wore the same outfit to my funeral
And will get reminded of me?
But, no matter what, my death
Won’t be that significant.
Many people die everyday. So what if I die?
It is just a natural course of life,
Inescapable, inevitable
Why is it such a big matter?
In fact, let my passing be as natural
As brushing teeth in the morning.
Better get it done and over with,
So that everyone can move on and start with the day
So fresh a mouth that a breeze can blow into it
And carry the scent to faraway lands.
Will life still move on?
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
I live you
And breathe you
And when we are apart
My skies shatter in rapturous calamities.
I am effort and strain for you.
I am sleep deprivation and sorrow for you.
I am the sweat stains on my collared shirts, and the aching in my breaking self so through.
I am the stress prints dented into my monster cans,
and I am the scars on my knuckles existing deep within.
I am my shaking when I always hold back, and I am the fuming I swallow and pack.
I am the thinking and goal setting through shaking and rain.
And know that I gladly go through these days,
and know that I'd gladly live this again. Know that I'm happy to press through to refrain.
And know that without you, I'd still think this a game.
You are my eyes, tugging in smiles.
You are my laughter, your vibrant clever wiles.
You are the comfort I find in my dreams. You are my sustenance, from juices I squeeze.
You are my sanity when i exist here.
You are my brightness, battling my fears. You are my serenity when I can't hold still. And you are my reason when I can't think clear.
you are my heartbeat, I'll move on, no matter the feel.
And would that you before me lay unbreathing, my son.
I'd pull the gods from the clouds until my last breath unceasing, every one.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
angel is at the door. / you don’t know what it means, but /
oh m, please pray for me. please / melt the dust off the doorstep, let angel in.
bring the bread to utah and eugene and atlanta and north dakota / the places he was in / the shows you wanted to see /
dear butterfly, i want to go to rome like they did. i want to be in monterey again, it sits in my stomach. / the ocean cemetery, the seaweed, the rain / i want to reach down into my small intestine and pull out seagulls, potato chips, the mist. monterey, please come back /
i’m inferior to the little girl inside me. / she is blue and unbreathing due to the strangulation, my cramped ribcage. we were hand in hand in eighth grade, i think, when my body didn’t end / when my memory wasn’t sticky from too many rewinds.
angel, come in / i’ll pick the fleas from your wings, i’ll shave your head for you
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 11:58 PM UTC
The baby
still born
just the brief time
to hold
before they
took her away.
You didn't
want her
to be taken
wanted
to hold her close
to stare
at the sleeping
features
unbreathing.
No farewell wave
or look making.
You wanted
to breath life
into her
small nostrils
kiss her into life
pray her eyes
would open
at the last moment
but the eyes
stayed closed.
Unmoving tiny
pink fingers
sculptured neat.
You wanted her
to ****
your milky dugs
but the lips
remained shut
pinky white
tingeing blue.
Just the still
born baby
and you.
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
Monodies
There were songs left lost with chords
of lonely aims, of hearts unclaimed
of things like death off-beat.
like doom of keys now breaking
or doors kept sealed kept screeching.
The poem,
This heart that lost its melody
and stopped its pace but not its peace;
of caged laments, unbreathing,
self-poisoned, imprisoned
still not unhoping.
The poet,
The voice of a silent noise,
kept sealed with unheard poise
of love, kept locked, forgotten;
remembered duets, of you and I
of the beats and the claps and the vow
of a written song unsung, till now
was a beating never present;
and we are never one but two
melodious but no harmony
together, alone.
The lines,
All connected, but not you,
and I was left still singing
The love,
still not unhoping.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
revision April 27 2001
Recrudescence
(Recrudesce: to break out
again after lying latent or relatively inactive)
My friend,
There are doors which even you and I
have never opened. Shut for so many
years I am slammed back against
the sink of meditation.
Drawers unopened, their loneliness
stuck shut, slipped behind hinges.
Whole cabinets of dust. I wore many
selves. Stains hang here so far
removed from conversation
as to be little calciums. Calculi.
I rattle with little bones.
But since you ask….
Viz.:
When the gun was pressed against
my head I sat more still than a
fig on a summer tree, more breathless
than a whisper, more quiet than the
center of that fruit, It’s stem
my hair, I felt it's roots
take. I was sixteen.
I always wondered if the red dye
of my fear rubbed off on him.
He was silent, his face the only light
in the room, the phosphorescence of
madness. He couldn't find
me I guess, inside my aubergine
stillness.
He was a steel shaft in
his hand. At last he slipped
to the door.
In the end, unbreathing,
I saved him.
Ego te absolvo.
I was so afraid he wouldn't
like me anymore.
Apr 18, 2023
Apr 18, 2023 at 9:30 PM UTC