shiva knew from ashes, what we from
baring bodies claim to know, that
down-dogs in the buff sets vanity aside,
if not by force then over time
along with any pretzel pose, or
tapas, work, or sweaty hopping
balance challenge deeper rhythm breath
revealing limits undenied and beauty
now revised for harmful lies to go.
beginning **** and ending ****
the mirror is the sun, the blue
horizon line of thought of one.
to bend is in the mind as well,
the keener meaning flexible
of soulful empathy of self.
the class ends in corpse and being
peaceearth-airsky-lovewind-all
apparels us only with the same light
we know and bow in namaste
to saunter to the beach and swim away communal heat.
i'm underwater soon,
three hours of dominoes
fading into deep greens
of algae kumbhaka pranayam. released.
the pond-bottom gasps at me with silt, such
delight shining darkly cool and shouts
jump in bubbles at the greenrays
piercing sweetly down to play our bodies perfect.
this is an existential feast.
old rocks on which to stand connect our feet,
waterslip awareness of the deep
and of the sky
gives rise to touching 'accidents' --
we clothe ourselves in thinner veils
we talk of history and elders, while
hormones sparkle greetings stroking clear we swim
in circles slowly, diving down and playing at pretend.
'adults being children' being adult in reserve
being 'natural' being ****,
discreet in underwater lust...
'i love you' our dripping eyelashes say
against the hot raft that burns our skin;
above the surface
neutral for the genitals we are
evaporate of self-seeing worry not
to spash each other's souls.
kindred lovers elsewhere whine possession
of us, but 'living, you said, isn't about being safe,'
seducing all, at every turn, an unabashed
reflex there to be desired in.

beachbathers, nubs of pink, tan and brown
shine unbroken at the shores.
occasionally waving 'nonjudgmental' waves.
sunglassed faces work away at being easeful:
assuaging fears of voyeurism far

i have set the wall to play vairagyam
naked in the open family value smiles
leaving me to judge our acts undone
or sensed beyond the moment in the center shade,
beneath our floating hiding place
our echoed panting speaking more surreal
than just the treading water in my space
you spit the teasing offer naturally
while hidden in the middle of a lake
our shocks of pleasure, gleaming eyes
in echoes brahmacharya pulls
with spinal lock of spiral loving this
we cannot have our vibrate bliss

i name it potently for what it is,
it cools the ***** enough for
feigning innocence

i duck in and out with image firmly planted
playing on an unreal living all
caution gone~

but not before imagining
the details stored away and swept together:
in that single moment apex entrance
of our carnal members swaying into
underwater yogasex.

the ladder slips along my sides
weaving up unbreathing giddiness, as
nubile, as young forever yearnings mar until
i hook my toes and float for you
clad by sun and sky, clearest ripples
flick the lips of vastness into grin
reflects your dive,
spread silouette above
you fly into my breath
to pinnacle the dance we live
without an act we guard propriety
until alone and years have gone
i'm here before a screen to live it over differently

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

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

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.

If you are finding the light
Inside of your being
Then you are living
Alive.

If you are unaware of your plight
Stuck inside your head
Then you are dead
Unbreathing.

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

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

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.

Im finally ready to talk about my mom
Now that I feel this numb
she died half a decade ago
and I loved a woman half a decade ago
When I was playing video games on the couch
on the corner imagine of that L shaped green couch
and I slowly realized out of the corner of my mind
more out of the corner of my consciousness
that my mother was dead
laying right next to me
Cold unresponsive and unbreathing
It was now looking back on it
a direct parallel to at least two different moments in my life
When my brother died and I stood outside my mothers bed
barely gathering the courage to wake her
often crushing eternities of silence keeping me from prodding her
from daring to say her name much after
I dont remember when she did awoke
I dont remember her unbearable fear
or the wanton panic in her eyes
but I remember my own
Oh I remember my own and
I kept her just out of sight of cognizance
Before moms funeral
the latter correspondent showed
I had *** with a lie
a lie I knew well
But I kept it just out of sight
No just at the edge of my mind
The drive home
with her brother in the back seat
and my *** deep inside her
fertile cheating womb
My Dark Twisted Fantasy
Bent right around me
I dont remember what I said
Panicking
I couldnt look her in the eye
Id only see myself
And I have to keep her out of sight
just on the line
to where maybe I didnt get here at all
maybe not me but another me
isnt experiencing this reality at all
shock they call it i think
fear
coping
dissociation
compartmentalizing
the trauma
the oh not me
I sat there for how long
playing a game I did not remember
as it was going on around me
my mind was already bleaching
forget forget fade to black
and still she laid there
not breathing
covered in her own blood and mucus
in a position that was disgustingly revealing
till they came
and took her carcass away
and I held someone
some family member or friend or some such
not even blinking and her
just out of sight
just out of thinking
until she left
and my weakness unyielding
exited too
only cold reality now reaching

The epilogue
of this ugly selfish poem
isnt all that revealing
not like before
not like after
I havent been able to form a real relationship
even at twenty three
I maybe came close but
Ive realized im very much a broken being
there was some sort of lesson
or personal growth
some sort of fundamental strength or courage
that was supposed to be found in hope
theres supposed to be a happy ending
a someone special waiting for me
no its not whats on tv
its all my sanity can dream
yet i cant share or feel
these dark deathly thoughts
i cannot even risk now
being rejected instead of
alone in my haught
oh ill only look
in the dark corners of the web
and ill only take and ill never give
i dont know where else to look
i never really did
and i have no moral compass to guide
only my experiences now to abide
so the epilogue is simple now:
Maybe I'll see you one day,
Around the corners of these ugly selfish words.

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

I walked through my forest, stepping over humongous tree roots, green covered veins pumping life to the heart of my peace. I was familiar with this place. Towering trees, trunks thicker than cars shooting into the skies, although those contraptions were not known to this unsullied place. I stared in wonder at the extraordinary beauty as I did every time I came here. It was quiet, still, a place of undisturbed silence. It beckoned me to it. This was my forest.

I navigated my way through the dense woods, my foot becoming caught in a root, causing me to fall. My skull felt broken, as if pieces of it were missing. I put my hand on my forehead, something wet covering it. I put my palm out in front of me, regaining focus of my vision. Blood. The sudden realization of what happened hitting me harder than my fall. I had never been hurt here before.

I felt my pupils dilate, my body beginning to shake, with one enormous release of air I let out a scream that rocked the frame of my body….as I thought. I looked around confusedly, breathing in again and attempting to let the air out with a high pitched shriek. Silence.

I thought back to all the times I came here. I had never spoken because there was no one to talk to. My footsteps never made a sound. My joyful cooing over the supposed beauty of the forest never traveled past my lips. Even when I fell there was no thud. No sound despite the loud shattering of my heart. Suddenly, this was no longer my forest.

The enormity of the trees were suddenly overwhelming, the crisp air suffocating, and the piercing silence deafening. This forest was unusual, there was no wildlife. No birds chirping or squirrels jumping from tree to tree to disrupt the quiet. No breeze rushed through the unbreathing lungs of the dead wilderness. No brush covered the sun starved ground. Not one leaf ever fell from the plentiful amount of trees that went on seemingly forever. Roots stretched across the forest floor like hideous snakes.

Everything I once found beautiful about this place is now twisted and ugly. This was my forest, a place of peace. A place I could go to forget. Or was it ever that? Was I just tricking myself into believing that this place I could not escape was everything I ever wanted. As if I had a choice of coming back. As if I ever left.

I know now what this place is. There is no hope, there is no beauty. I can no longer pretend that what I see is anything but grotesque. I lay on the ground and watch as flames appear, the reflection of fire in my eyes, devouring everything that once was and ever will be of my forest.

I don’t know how long it was before I realized that I could finally feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. How long I laid in the ashes of my sorrow before I realized that there wasn’t just a nothing after my forest was gone. Before I realized that I was staring into the sky, not a black hole.

I felt sensations I had never felt before. No, I had a long time ago before my forest had ever grown here. Slowly I sat up, surprised to find that my body no longer ached. Blood no longer coated my forehead. All that was left of my forest was ash. My forest was gone.

Then I saw it, pink petals spread as if waiting to receive something long overdue. A splash of color amongst the charred blacks and greys of my past. I stared in wonder at the extraordinary beauty. A breeze rushed through the reviving lungs of my hopeful perseverance, carrying the ashes of my denial away.

A vibrant green covered the ground, roots no longer hindering it from spreading throughout the area. Getting up and walking to the flower only to be cast onto my knees once again. How undeserving I was. I stared at it, doing something I had never done looking at my forest. I smiled. This was my flower.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

These are lullabies I have written over the years, as poems. Some of my poems have been set to music and thus have become actual songs and lullabies.

For a Ukrainian Child, with Butterflies
by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go ...
when lightning rails ...
when thunder howls ...
when hailstones scream ...
when winter scowls ...
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,
where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?



Midnight Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

I.
A measureless rhythm rules the night—
few have heard it,
but I have shared it,
and its secret is mine.

To put it into words
is as to extract the sweetness from honey
and must be done as gently
as a butterfly cleans its wings.

But when it is captured, it is gone again;
its usefulness is only
that it lulls to sleep.

II.
So sleep, my love, to the cadence of night,
to the moans of the moonlit hills’
bass chorus of frogs, while the deep valleys fill
with the nightjar’s shrill, cryptic trills.

But I will not sleep this night, nor any;
how can I—when my dreams
are always of your perfect face
ringed by soft whorls of fretted lace,
framed by your perfect pillowcase?



Final Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother, Christine Ena Burch

Sleep peacefully—for now your suffering’s over.

Sleep peacefully—immune to all distress,
like pebbles unaware of raging waves.

Sleep peacefully—like fields of fragrant clover
unmoved by any motion of the wind.

Sleep peacefully—like clouds untouched by earthquakes.

Sleep peacefully—like stars that never blink
and have no thoughts at all, nor need to think.

Sleep peacefully—in your eternal vault,
immaculate, past perfect, without fault.

Amen

Originally published by Borderless Journal



Sappho’s Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

Hushed yet melodic, the hills and the valleys
sleep unaware of the nightingale's call
while the pale calla lilies lie
listening,
glistening ...
this is their night, the first night of fall.  

Son, tonight, a woman awaits you;
she is more vibrant, more lovely than spring.
She'll meet you in moonlight,
soft and warm,
all alone ...
then you'll know why the nightingale sings.

Just yesterday the stars were afire;
then how desire flashed through my veins!
But now I am older;
night has come,
I’m alone ...
for you I will sing as the nightingale sings.

The calla lily symbolizes beauty, purity, innocence, faithfulness and true devotion. According to Greek mythology, when the Milky Way was formed by the goddess Hera’s breast milk, the drops that fell to earth became calla lilies.



Lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

Cherubic laugh; sly, impish grin;
Angelic face; wild chimp within.

It does not matter; sleep awhile
As soft mirth tickles forth a smile.

Gray moths will hum a lullaby
Of feathery wings, then you and I

Will wake together, by and by.

                      **

Life’s not long; those days are best
Spent snuggled to a loving breast.

The earth will wait; a sun-filled sky
Will bronze lean muscle, by and by.

Soon you will sing, and I will sigh,
But sleep here, now, for you and I

Know nothing but this lullaby.



Peace Prayer
by Michael R. Burch

for Jim Dunlap

Be calm.
Be still.
Be silent, content.

Be one with the buffalo cropping the grass to a safer height.

Seek the composure of the great depths, barely moved by exterior storms.

Lift your face to the dawning light; feel how it warms.

And be calm.
Be still.
Be silent, content.



The Singer
by Michael R. Burch

for Leslie Mellichamp

The sun that swoons at dusk
and seems a vanished grace
breaks over distant shores
as a child’s uplifted face
takes up a song like yours.
We listen, and embrace
its warmth with dawning trust.

“O singer, sing to me—
I know the world’s awry—
I know how piteously
the hungry children cry.”

We hear you even now—
your voice is with us yet.
Your song did not desert us,
nor can our hearts forget.

“But I bleed warm and near,
And come another dawn
The world will still be here
When home and hearth are gone.”

Although the world seems colder,
your words will warm it yet.
Lie untroubled, still its compass
and guiding instrument.



Oh, let me sing you a lullaby
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy (written from his mother’s perspective)

Oh, let me sing you a lullaby
of a love that shall come to you by and by.

Oh, let me sing you a lullaby
of a love that shall come to you by and by.

Oh, my dear son, how you’re growing up!
You’re taller than me, now I’m looking up!
You’re a long tall drink and I’m half a cup!
So let me sing you this lullaby.

Oh, my sweet son, as I watch you grow,
there are so many things that I want you to know.
Most importantly this: that I love you so.
And so let me sing you this lullaby.

Soon a tender bud will ****** forth and grow
after the winter’s long ****** snow;
and because there are things that you have to know ...
Oh, let me sing you this lullaby.

Soon, in a green garden a new rose will bloom
and fill all the world with its wild perfume.
And though it’s hard for me, I must give it room.
And so let me sing you this lullaby.



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 grieving 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 together we must 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.



Nightingale
by Michael R. Burch

Write me some gorgeous rhythm
about the gently falling night
in words with similar cadences
and a moon as occultly bright,
and if your lullaby pleases
and if your charms persist,
then I will gladly add you
to my bookmarked favorites list.

But as for pay or hire
and as for fortune and fame —
they seem unlikely, minstrel,
and while that might seem a shame,
are nightingales “rewarded”
for their sweetly pensive songs?
Your poems are too **** expensive —
add that to your warbled wrongs!

*

The Aery Faery Princess
by Michael R. Burch

for Keira

There once was a princess lighter than fluff
made of such gossamer stuff—
the down of a thistle, butterflies’ wings,
the faintest high note the hummingbird sings,
moonbeams on garlands, strands of bright hair ...
I think she’s just you when you’re floating on air.

Keywords/Tags: lullaby, lullabies, poems, poetry, song, songs, music, lyric, lyrics, bed, bedtime, sleep, dream, dreams

How many centuries have we spent now,
bent down?
Brown mud caking these
brittle knees.
Unmade in the eyes of a perfect being,
and he won’t die,
and lie in that grave with the others.
His forgotten brothers.

A welcome emaciated mass of sun bleached death.
Tossed without ceremony left to be lost like the rest.
Frail and undone when the cleansing light sends its test.
Pale and empty of substance when exposed.
Set to rest and decompose.
And we’re unimpressed.

These hypnotized liars walk lines along cliff edges.
Lost in their mind because those before them said it.
Handed a song, ages old, told to walk in faith alone.
On the precipice dancing on the edge, but they forget it.

Stone erodes and poses pressing tones below
Stressing more and more the floor supporting guests, upon depressing roads.
Paths corrode as cracks along the edge show
growing tortured gravel patches,
bound to pour out scores,
when rainfall carries
laughing dancers to the bones.

We’re fed up, jaded, and broken,
so let us take a moment.
Leave the solemn words
we’ve spoken on the graves.
Turn the token cliche prose
we lay on corpses into social currency for future days when those who question us impose an accusation;

“Why didn’t you help”
“By myself?” replies the bystander
Surprised to find the eyes
of a man turned squarely into his,
with tears colliding with his hand,
as fingers press into his eyes again.

“You watched as masses shielded vision and passed
Not but an inch from within the wind of your breath
Without so much as a whispering bid for reason.

You laughed in the ignorant faces of men and women perceiving yourself apart, or above, and seeded in yourself a pride that grew out into treason.

Leaving your fellow man unbreathing now.
Hallow and bleeding out.
Just like the fallen deities you love to mock so ******* much.

Mock them when they pray too hard but stay just as blind as they are because not speaking is just as awful as appalling preaching and you know such”

The bystander feels
Shaking ground, though metaphoric ground this time,
below his euphoric purpose driven apathy.

“This is how it has to be”
He pleads. Recedes into himself and pleas for respite.
Left to wrestle his own fears of king or despot selling wishful vials of lies to those, without the question in their mind to test it.

“They won’t listen. Days go missing in their heads consumed with blissful ways.
They chase the wisdom
Fray the threads of truth to suit the pictures kissed with wishes for filtered existence away from criticism and pray for a view assuring their faith stays”

Before the next reply could pour out The
Depths retort a horrid sound that cuts the air
and ground, denies the sordid pair their discourse,
and sorts them with the rest of who’s around,
with waves of death abound.

The recently brittle mountain
with what decent little strength had been reserved,
turned temples into rubble descending caverns and burning up. The lessons lost and briefly learned, before the the fall,
were all but echoes in the minds of the dancers who returned,
to spurn the non believers who couldn’t use their faith and find lessons to be discerned.

“Heed not the words of heretics.
Fear not the shrinking mountain.
This lack of faith produces bile that strives to pollute our drinking fountain.
Search within yourself to find a mind that lends its self to sway.
Allow these soothing songs
of ours to heal and wash the pain away.”

And they will.

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.

(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.

Canvas bag, swinging
As we walk,
The thousand voices
Singing together, screaming
But never loud enough
Never loud enough to stay above water
On our own here
It’s an ocean we used to play in,
Don’t assume I was always a strong swimmer
I never learned to slow down,
Now I’ve stopped moving and can’t
Seem to start again
Keep up, keep up,
Can I really separate myself from the moment
When everyone ran ahead,
And someone collapsed, unbreathing
Can you imagine what would have happened
If no-one had waited for us,
Would we still be in that forest,
Screaming for help
While she was unable to even
Open her eyes,
Everyone tells me I can forget,
But how can I,
When I haven’t even seen her face since that day?
Still, I sit here in silence,
I’ll tell her story another day,
But for now,
The ocean’s feeling a little lonely,
And someone said that others had been here before
Didn’t he say that the ocean was full?
I wonder if I’ll ever meet my fellow dying.

Attitude; is it just the teenage spirit
Yelling for nothing
Rude amongst the world
Mood swings; is this normal
The thoughts that run
The thoughts that walk
The thoughts that jump
My stomach is in knots from the switching
What emotion do i hold inside?
Insomnia; why is the bed pushing me away
Awake for days
What is sleep?
Hallucinations
Am i actually seeing things
Am i actually hearing things
My mind is playing games and tricking me
Anxiety; why cant i breathe
These anxiety attacks are beating me up
My heart is racing and its leading to...
Hyperventilation
The nerves put pressure on me
Im chocking;
Unbreathing;
And now its leading to...
Dizziness
I know im going to fall
Anger; my vocal cords are being scraped
Things thrown
The pulling of my hair
The slamming of my door
Yelling for nothing
Yelling so quickly
This will never stop
Depression; the sadness isnt leaving my body
Didnt want to leave the house
I wanted to drown in my tears
Turning away from everyone
Not wanting to talk to anyone
And the phone calls that i ignored
Made friends come save me from my jail
Everyday i drowned in my tears
Self-mutilation; the knife became my new best friend
I opened my own cuts
And forced the red liquid out of my body
My skin was so torn apart
But i wanted to bleed until i felt dizzy,
Until i hyperventilated
Until i felt so relaxed
It was my only escape
Promiscuous;
Left my friends for strangers
Everyday it was someone new
There was no caring
Not for them, and not for myself
Relationships were too challenging for me
I needed to relieve the stress
Road rage; i almost died
Driving away from it all
I needed to be free
Trapped once again,
My bones got damaged
Another story to tell
Now this is me: scarred for life
Physically, and mentally
Low self-esteem
Ugliness
Fat
Stupid
Just not worth anything
Impaired memory;
Memory loss stole all my strength
Everything i knew, i forgot
Everyone i knew, i forgot
Everything i owned, I misplaced
Im too young to forget
Shopping sprees;
Spending to have excitement
But then later my moods go back to normal
Alcoholic; drinking to create happiness
On the driveway
In my room
The love for intoxication was so normal to me
Denial; i was ok
I thought i was ok
I actually wasnt ok
Medication; my decision was finally positive
No going back,
No more killing my spirit
This is for life, but im finally alive
Medicated, but finally strong
Depression faded to happiness
Anger faded to excitement
Insomnia faded to sleeping patterns
Self-mutilation faded into throwing away all the weapons
Promiscuous faded into a relationship
Intoxication faded into being sober
Finally strong but controlled for life

Riding inside sorrowful wheels
Our minds were so lost
Still to this day i continue to cry,
And i saw no colours but black
Because she made the colours bright
Now she doesnt drive anymore
But shes inside a car
Unable to move
Unable to speak
Unable to breathe
And we were forced to ride behind her
Blind to see the roads,
I wanted to turn back time
When is this pain going to end,
It should have never began
Alone,
Unbreathing,
Layed down to rest,
Its forever
Slowly we move,
Faster our hearts beat
Around in a circle,
I couldnt live through it
Then i made it;
But blinded;
Crying, and broken
The waving of their hands had me confused and locked up inside
Now this is the end
This is how we made her say goodbye
The hurst is what held her
Closed, and hidden inside
Arrived at the forest
With silent bodies around
Now its her turn to leave;
We had to say goodbyes above ground
She who was buried,
I felt like i was too.
Half my heart was gone
Half my heart was taken
Half my heart was shattered;
Broken
Forever gone
Half my heart was buried with her soul
So today i still cry
The black car that i see
As soon as it appears
Im unable to set myself free
The black car that i see,
It happens all the time
Everytime i see a funeral,
That day is in my mind
Like a light switch that turns on;
My anxiety turns on.
Im hyperventilating;
I cannot breathe.
The terrible memory i had to see,
This vehicle triggered a tragedy
Today i see the black car
The hurst that i hate
Today i think back when i had to witness her body escape

The darkness closed my eyes and made me go blind
Then i saw everything i feared inside of my head
My nightmares had me scared and then my heart suddenly raced
Once the nightmares were actually true, i started to hyperventilate
I felt all my anxiety as i tried to undo the strangulation
But i didnt know whats strangling me
I didnt know whats squeezing me
The darkness is all around me
Now my fears are bothering me
My thoughts wont leave me
My thoughts want me bleeding
Im trying to save myself from unbreathing
Im feeling my heart jump as i try to calm my nerves
Im feeling my breathing stop as i open my mouth and try to scream
Im feeling my eyes pop as i try to block the static
Im feeling my skin move as i try to sew my pieces back together
Im feeling my bones break as i try to hold myself together
Im black & blue
Im cold but im numb
Im broken & shattered
Im hyperventilating but im choking
Im scared & lost
Im fighting but im struggling
Im losing & its tiring
Im giving up but i wanna break off my fears from my neck