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we spend all of our life time digging up the past robbing the graves of our ancestors. we keep running to our past we are running out of time for making a future. we know what happens to the body in death and yet it tells us nothing beyond death. there are no words for mankind who acts like rabid wolverines running to the graves taking displaying stealing from our ancestors shame on the human race for such ignorance of true knowledge.
Mike Essig May 2016
follow the yellow brick road...*

The terrible freedom unleashed by typewriters.
Condition of complexity judged without criteria.
Radical provocations. Urinals and prams. Contingent.
Anarchist aesthetic. Not truth nor beauty but freedom.
Materiality of language. Multi-hued wheel barrows.
A cuttlefish. A crate. A cassowary. A cigarette. A ******.
Paratactic order. Particular phrasing. Pulsing pastiche.
An infinite conversation without resolution
as with the stupid friend who won’t shut up. Ever.
A transcendent dialectic based solely on proximity.
Ineluctable modality of the near. Only that. Buck it.
An unquiet ghost endlessly self-questioning. No answers.
Moaning in the meaning. A simple stuttering. Sibilant.
Turbulent and unpredictable as waddling wolverines.
Words that only mean whatever is seen. Juxtaposition.
Dissolving into desired dissonance. The magic chord.
Absolute verity in the experience of the fraudulent
for the same reason as the ubiquity of toothpaste.
     The poem as its own universe, complete and whole,
     fodder for the mind, not balm for the soul.
JL Jan 2012
Ask me fiery one How I would This moment leave my home behind And walk on bare feet to you It would be nothing to me To cut my heels in your honour I would find you I am sure Watching the sun awaken As you gaze from some unnamed plateau Ask me how quickly I would build you ship Cutting timbers asunder Laying out each piece Tying and hoisting I would put you on your ship Her name being Sunrise Ask me how I will blow into your sails Longer than any tradewind I would take you to Asia And show you the color of life And the song of silence Whisper in your ears The secrets of the east We could gaze at tall spires in the bitter north I would wrestle the Russian Bear And he will gladly give his coat I will fight tooth and nail with wolverines So you can see my blood and fear Soon we will rest in the Mediterranean Drinking heady wine on the warm grass Running barefooted through years of vineyards We can climb the peaks in Greece If you only ask me fiery one I will cast down the Olympian host We can bathe in the city lights of Paris you and I We can haunt the streets in London if you wish We can go anywhere you ask Just tell me where to take you first
a keen sense of smell                          
size of a medium dog           
'skunk bears', wolverines
Get up and dance  
Put on those moccasins that make you move from out in France 
Into the Indies then Polynesian isles.
Pour the green skies upon those frozen and dried out. 
Bring gratitude to those whom frequently pout 
And the mission to gain commission
How the mantras from mamas mouth 

Shoot from the sky.
So sly the way we will slip into the nostalgic reminisce 
Lights on the red carpet 
And the set of lies 
Are we doing this? 

We don't mention How Buddha ******. 
Budapest in the name of the most auromatheraputic 
And orginally  
tell the Chinese nike labourers  
who do this. 

Though they suit me, 
I resuit this with prudent force for those law benders 
Of the b.a.r.
We will cough on tough tycoons and yet bow to stars. 

Oh my legend, how far have we looked and have we come 
Jumping out of the Nintendo Nes(t)
We have entertained our self enough  
We've won son.

But find me lagging on a wooden broom 
Brimming on the outskirts of your psyche 
Just when you thought 
Sike you didn't not cite me.

Please bibliograph my flight plan or pattern 
And as you gaze upon the moon I make my second meander on Saturn 
The orbit 

In finding sudden satisfaction with norbit 
I've asked. How bliss is ignorance? 
We blend all the blinding lights of the prism and still white and **** 
Siss 

Disdain on dose dat ain't domestic 
Still ******* kicking and 
My legs are there to test this 

Theory 
and jeering with slack 
I'm looking back. 
I fear the peers of tired whites and blacks 

Those that act that they have nothing to loose 
By continually hitting the snooze 
Oh we will leave you like leaves grounded in the grooves 

These four leaf clues 
Clovers, slipping out of my palms 
Mark you like wolverines claws 
Like jar heads
Jumpin in to the jabber jagged jaw of jaws 

Subservient marine. 
Prate in the truth of those words until you(they) know just what they mean. 
Ya seen? 
Good?
Mike Essig Jan 2016
1 - Sweep out the International Space Station.
2 - Eat Kale every day and like it.
3 - Learn to know and like a republican.
4 - Become a Mixed Martial Arts champion.
5 - Be kind to extinct wolverines.
6 - Develop at taste for Rap music.
7 - Explore gastronomic excess with you $16 in food stamps.
8 - Teach the cat how to vacuum and dust.
9 - Find the last person under 30 without a smartphone.
10 - Figure out why God created Twitter.
11 - Solve the riddle of what women really want.

12 - Give up on all the above by Ground Hog Day.

  ~mce
Satsih Verma Oct 2016
Night blinks.
Light sits under the door.
I am ready to confront the moon.

Too much brilliance
was there. Would you redesign
the blue sky and paint the new stars?

Poverty was my great strength.
Nothing to lose, when
you were dancing with the shadows.
Morgan Alexander Sep 2019
So there we were on the cliff above the railroad tracks, the Missouri River Bridge in the distance. We’d armed ourselves with sticks, rocks, and pellet guns. We were a ragtag militia, all fight and no war.

The roar of the oncoming train drowned out our planning for anarchy and unfocused mayhem.
The five of us waited, unsure how to take best advantage of the rolling brown and yellow Union Pacific. Dan looked at me and wiped the sweat from his face with his *** Pistols t-shirt.

“Let’***** it!” Rob said. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say no. If I said it was wrong they’d have laughed and done it anyway. Tingles ran down my legs. I leaned against a nearby cedar and craned my head in the direction of the oncoming train. From our vantage point on the bluff amongst the trees, the unwary conductor would never see us. I waved to signal the others as it arrived.

The ground shook as the train roared below us. Deaf from its passing, we used hand signals like the guys in Red Dawn. That’s it! That’s who we were! We were the Wolverines! And I was the scout who had just spotted a resupply train that was carrying logistical necessities like...

“Cars! *******! This one has cars on it,” Kevin yelled. The other soldiers all gathered rocks and threw them at the passing supply train. I yelled “Wolverines!” as they pelted the evil communist convoy. The four of them joined me screaming the same. My blood boiled, and my face went hot as I embraced the guerilla tactics.

I was dumbfounded when Rob picked up a boulder... and lifted it over his head like a weightlifter. As it flew through the air in deliciously slow motion I thought for sure it was just going to drop straight down the face of the crumbling bluff. Then, with accuracy too precise to have been planned, the boulder crashed through the front windshield of some red Ford, and due to the speed of the passing train, blew through the back glass before tumbling to rest on the hood of some blue Chevy below it.

Dead Flippin Silence

“Rob! *******! That was awesome!” someone said...Tim, I think.

Rob stood with fists pumping in the air. He won today, and he became the captain of our squad. I picked up a much smaller rock and threw it, watching as it clanged helplessly off the train’s metal siding. The Russians would surely come looking for us now, and this was a hit and run raid. We bolted from our perches and sought other opportunities to hit the Commies where it hurt!

We really wanted to be Anarchy!
Circa 1989. Watch the old Red Dawn and pretend you're too young to know better. (Also that it hasn't aged poorly). Also, listen to the *** Pistols. If you can't... It's on you. :)
Julian Aug 2020
Articulate Throwback (Amazing Rap that Doesn't Get Enough Respect)
Fielding an eclipsed Jack the Ripper Sun
Yielding dismissal garish, begotten The Matrix smokin’ gun
Wielding a firebrand skittish
Skills levied an intolerable tax by quisling quoted British
Stunting on heyday levity marksman of primes
Flogged for flagrant dragons sinking nickels and dimes aimed beatific sublime
Flowing like centripetal orbit  galvanized by riddled spirits dashed in secondary impetus of reason over rhyme
Littoral swank partial to Taylor Series of dedications Speak Now peaks livid with fumiducts of crippled sheep blandished for reach
Apologies invited always welcome for a kitsch debased by universal theaters yet united for Payable on Death singing the deceit of receipts impeached
Islanders flooding suicides punning that a sunken treasure is barbs smuggling
Otiose on ribald corsairs blinkered by the rhombos of speculation thunder itself about lightning starts wondering
Where a City by the Bay shining on a Hill of travesties of decay tanks for domesticated Negros that flashbangs got to slay
To the wistful shaken house music garnishing the prey of prayer on heavy pulls of quotable 415 hay-day
The wrinkled stray dog never  far from *****
Slapsticks against the tribunes awaiting for meteoric functions of a recessive allele of a dominant comet
Ludacris flickers dancing in dormant revelry because On Top, Just Let Go..I am honest and On It
To the milk of harvested stars glaring at tankers and garish broken FaceMash scars teetotalers scatter with Thursday crashing into glass shards
Black fame is a white epiphany of infamy designated by name
Of the craven coltish spinsters who market the crackling whiplash of sanity apportioned to the regaled insufflation of blame
Streaky on a jejune Diggity hapless hop of Kumbayas etched by Trailer Park’s scalding flop
Glorifying a Gangester heir to titanic humbled beginnings chockablock divested to Kennedy’s dead Candy Shop
Impressive rags of riches of counterfeit tags blundering with lazy LASER Tag of sharks too bellicose to earn a pitfall pittance of swag
Trippin’ by tripwires too flippant to be flippin’ on known graves sidesplitters of treecheese yaggots grimaced on madcaps of bottlecaps swimming in ether of money too happy for House of Pain rags of gag orders intrepid because some blood is Bad
****** drapes of tapestries too woven on Ducking Badger duck tape
Pretending not even a slightest twinge of celebrity faked is a tantamount affliction to Kobe’s escape
Time to rig the 7/11 notoriety of a caper drawl in Cape Town Blue Sky Action can barely offer scrape
Let them eat cake and heads roll like Nicholas Cage clairvoyant in mystique quaking like a Quaker parody rank-and-file rancid graveyard creep
Cuz the best in the Business evokes singes of Dre grazed persistence a Space Rover rather than a broken-down drive-by Vegas Cheap Holyfield Jeep
Forgeries in trigonometric time gone haywire because ******* of fools is delicious neutered ballistic wrong with elemental statistic
Armed to the Teeth because twinges of righteousness is strongly established because it elevates truces well-predicted
Reckon the self-aware hive jetsetting with Jive warbles of departure yet to arrive
“Talk” of those fewer in knowledge yet living an invented diatribe
Lil Dicky mumbling his churlish codling vendetta
Too petty on the game like a turgid Mariah Carey Christmas Sweater evaporating on benzo bleats because exaggeration is a measuring stick more prone to delusion than the vapid version of Eddie  Vedder
Ripping through seamstresses of time a delope from impoverished cesspool grime
Certainly not swinging with sockdolagers like Musk as UPS owns insider angles about BitCoin riches scoffing at #11 Sublime
I owe respect to an upstart prescience scowling hatched never against fragile egg-shell minds
He’s the predecessor to the Walter White of cesspool inveterate rivets in hulking pretense of a measured stick lying like Tony  Hawk on the grind drawling on videogame addicts lost to numbers like Wall Street bet on fractions divisible like Scarface on cardinal crime
Blip on the WHIP cackles of clever pasquinade owned by sizzurp of Red Wings demolished like Draper balking at the West Coast ****** of East Coast royalty etiolating on Life After Death because of a teased script of March 26th shining bright like nine-inch nails longer than an exaggerated Dicky loving pollution more than Sina Loa loves bricks
Mad respect to juggernaut Michigan flow, but when you henpeck a rooster fewer regaled Ravens start to sing like Tomorrow’s sung by Sheryl Crow
So attack the kenspeckel hiding like sobriety itching to revel
Even the greats are grating despite prestige owned like Steppenwolf inventing Heavy Metal
Yet the raspy dengonin certainly a curtain call for the moribund smooth competition genius but not square to my elevated level
Time to brush aside, politics is a Velvet Morning rather than an Everest scaffold of glaciers divide
Flourishing Eden of a Seattle worthy of treason on rollercoasters yet to ride
The contumely of charlatans berating brassage is a Lie Boring in Federal Way united against prejudices scowling because Qwersy Mencia is too fraught to enjoy the jeers of a tattered Pride
Past-Tense Quinn in his Chauvin Blue Suit is Queer on The Bends
For a better radio the shatter of the quaff is Damon on the mendlatch for the rights of heroism among men
Applesauce is scary when the cooks are too chary for emoluments of cherry-picked vanity inoculated because hackneyed hacksaws aren’t that scary
To a Rush Hour acclaim that owes a Martian a fair-share of the inviolable degrees above freezing that guarantees the Hang Seng
The cretaceous dinosaur livid in the Fields of Dreams lives to the honor of the author rather a subsidiary prosperity rooting for the same exact team
Credit belongs not to slot-machine jibes of Navy throngs because the sealed pedigree of a Potemkin stonewall ravaged an Atlanta March that Richard Sherman found himself wrong
Ripostes of wavered glory serenade Field’s Medal accolades jaunty with brimstone repartee for persecution of Sing-Sang jailed avuncular Dana Carvey
Crumpled in missives etched decisively by Popcorn paparazzi Lee Harvey Oswald Part Three dinging Reagan’s Drugs because belittled Batman and Robin Harvey Dent is on a defalcation spree
Limited by the gambit of orbit I flex space measured only by perception hourglasses mistake for Dewey Decimal ministry
Because mountebanks of the tramontane canard unscrewed by Donkey’s without the triumph of vindicated colts spew the unwarranted without the warrant of upright parlance
Deflecting the useless caricature of Jezebels they barely even know dancing with fisticuffs choleric with jaundiced illuminati chants of an age bracing for the venom of viper’s of gratuitous pretense in violence because the whittled conscience scourges footloose profligacy in dementia that owns probability rather than certainty but doesn’t stand a chance
A billowing toxic fume of a Trojan Horse of galloped complicity of headless horsemen too scared to even pinprick the average Brett Hume huffs like mad wolverines dancing with Buccaneers for the fidelity of bridled brides with a tailored or sloppy groom
Cowering behind plashy starlets dashed for authenticity too soon
The Red Robin Hood ****** of silhouettes of Caste system indecency is reduced to reductivism in peddled paranoia of Randall Graves confronting his deepest specious tomb
To rogue slipshod miracles of denuded ice for Christopher Reeves Wally World White in Simple Jack owleries of confiscated light they caper encaged Caspergers ergotamine flavored favor uptight
Glaring prince dashing Rusty with ***** for Hummers glazed with donut torus hummus swift with reverend repartee
Sunken sleepless abyss ghosts haunt for quaffs evanescent in backbone bliss incurring parted sight for nebbich sprees
Calculated by persnickety prattle brazen with bravado promontory sparked on the flames of an overhyped hysteria ablaze
Raisins aren’t the determinant of a blinkered starstruck page gilded to amaze
Formidable reform conserved against blasphemies of ****
Withstands the immutable geotaxis of inevitable backfires in limited scourges of scorn
Time to sacrifice the badge earn the primacy of trimleggers making a dash rushing for hourglass sand prominent in fiat flash
In a second a trampoline against a specious marvel is a sour remorse of a crusade turning into protection not found in autumn ash
With autarky righteous rain boogies against bogeys of golfers livid with sensational inane
Lunacy predicated on sensational maudlin labors of Genesis 3:16 birth pain
Incurred upon the toil of the lugubrious heights of teachers that defy tribes and stripes
Soldiering for God without even the slightest nefarious mercenary spite
Because Ledgers cannot be mistaken for legends because petty battles Abandoned Pools named were avoided for Nobel Prizes of moonshot fame never King Kong because 24k magic called the Hang Seng  game enter stage right
The thematic liberation of the freewheeler isn’t a combustion of truckers Ruckers allergic to chattered shame
But the time honored Sevendust defies blisters because a brave heroism leaps into legacy vaunted by cheery repute in winning hegemony against rigged fraud in frigid feral tames
I march to an inaugural chance without a chance of quick inauguration because Junetao is a duck-duck-go childish flicker against Amsterdam Vallon besides the church with a touching spectacle of solidarity beyond temporal Anacondas of deserved blame
An ally to the kitsch the prosperity of Nas is afforded to optimism never so fulgurant because of a bewitched Tik Tok twitch
As the true flock regards the true shepherd the guardian of wonder and the captain avoiding Yellow Submarines because Stayin’ Alive is a prophecy not a febrile contagion of germs pitching tents for flukes insistent on incident rather than honorable to Canada Dry on Strike for better than a bubble gum mumble rap of Lil Pump’s pruned humps for a ******* ghost rider rather than a profaned itch
But the camel survives because the needle doesn’t thrive in a world where God is always Stayin’ Alive to strike a pose for the voguest Jive
“The Seduction” lives and the corruption limps with glib bribery fibs because 2 Timothy 1:7 in autarky is a generous rhyme that  gives and gives
In endless crusade to beat like David the ***** of a poker miracle that stars in a showcase of a life of splendor eternal rather than a cursory kamikaze reckless fib
Its time for  abundance of life to be lived fully to truly find riches in the best possible life winsome in discretion to quake and yet remain immune to a Walgreens of Stonewall myth
Cast not the first stone against the immaculate Giant because everybody is shaking to Bond and Saint Joseph’s guarded wordsmith
Justin Blaauw Mar 2010
Follow me, me, me,
I shall lead you
to the parting of the seas,
I shall be the one

Day and night,
fluffy clouds of living wool and ticks we are,
not in the sky, but grounded in green grass around,
We follow you,
You I have never known, never seen,
but leader by seeds of my ancestors sown,
I have grown with the herd, all I have known.

The shadows are watching,
Wolves across the darkened prairie,
Awash in the milky white of moonlight,
They hunt by night,
These wisps of fright.

You Leader, Oh most Invisible one,
at the front of the run,
wolf-wary and toiling under the sun,
And moon.
The wolves are always looking to the sky,
I wonder why ?

Then so did I.

For the first time ever a sheep has never
Has actually looked up high,
Into the starry hea’ens,
studded glimmers on a wolfs black coat,
the wisened old hunter, the cunning wily,
a secret of the cut throats long known,
peers down on me, their stories, older than my oldest me.

For the wolves know, my leaders head is low,
That we move into the fields, there by the northern star,
And there will be a gathering,
A feast of lamb to behold,
For the collection of wolf covens of old,

Our pastures of peace lie to the east,
By my reckoning of the stars,
But my leader follows the reckoning of old,
A forgotten past,
A legacy that goes to our death every year
To feed the wolverines that costs us dear.
Mike Essig Aug 2016
The universe has
a millions signs
that say no,
but
only a few
that say yes.



Everything is fragile
except the rope
around your neck.



Just another
day in paradise:
exciting as a
hole in the ground.



Please send me
a difficult woman
with a mind
like a razor
and a kiss
like a shotgun
blast.



If you think
with your ****
expect a few
headaches.



All the world's misery
is caused by people
who wear suits.



Sometimes, you must
must open a window
in your soul
just to let a little
oxygen into your life.



My anscestors
marched to war.
I flew.
Maybe there is
such a thing
as progress.



Why do we
fall in love
instead of
rise in love?
Because there's
no such thing
as a rise with
a thud at the end.



Cat's know everything
but divulge nothing.




Death waits
patiently as
a dead cat.



Enough now,
I am moving to
Lake Michigan
where I will
hunt wolverines
for a living
and learn
to eat ice.



Have to flee,
there is a warrant
out for me for
everything I
never did.



So difficult
some mornings
to face the
ugly emptiness of
the sober page



Wanted:
a future
without
a perhaps.



If you turned
wine into water,
made the living dead,
and called in demons
would these
be called miracles
and you hailed as
the new messiah?
Might be dangerous.
Listen: the sound
of hammers and nails
calling your name.



The Law is the Law;
**** is ****;
do the math.



Try not to **** away
your life on nonsense.



While I wasn't looking,
the whole earth was
zoned commericial.



There is always
another corner
around the next
corner.



Never let clocks
control your life.



Waking up
every day
is another
chance at
Spring.



Wherever you go
you carry along
all the places
you've ever been.



We are
breeding people
who will
have no place
in the world.



It takes
a life's work
to recognize
the mystery
of the obvious.



Much that you see
isn't for your eyes.



Exactly how long
does forever last?



I keep waiting
unsure of what
I am waiting for.



Sometimes, you walk
through doorways
in you mind
and can't get out.



When you are sure
you can't stand more,
the worst is just beginning.



We must learn to appreciate
our fatal savagery.



Don't disrespect alcohol.
It provides consolation
for the inconsolable.
Not a small feat.



Sometimes, art must be foul
in order to scrub the soul clean.

*

There are no
brave, new worlds;
just this one,
over and over,
until seen clearly
at last.
Mike Essig Feb 2017
You know it is over.
Your shoes walk away.
Your phone dives into
the pit of despair.
Your cigarettes
have become healthy.
Your knees no longer
knock, but clap.
The chipmunks are silent.
Wolverines arrange
mass suicide pacts.
Chameleons permanently
turn invisible.
Everything transforms
into Other.
You are a stranger
becoming stranger
day by day.
You know it is over.
Ten Four good buddy.
If you don’t know the answer
it’s C
If you don’t care if cheating is immoral anymore
it’s normal
If some days the idea of shoving a pencil into your flesh
is tempting
                 It’s high school

Welcome to the flawed world
of unhealthy habits and competition
a parade of bent and folded bodies
we show off
graphite scratched skin
Future leaders stand like statues covered in graffiti
among ripped canvases and unfinished art projects
Waiting to be beautiful

Friend groups made up of alternatively
muddy and magnificent water colors
of scars and secrets they hide from their parents,
drawn on their skin,
settled in the cracks of broken frames
hiding wolverines under shattered glass and splintered wood

It’s not beautiful to be broken,
but outside of here, it’s beautiful to be alive
and be what you are
so turn scars into lightning bolts
and let stories drip down your chin in vibrant colors
you can’t see

Our best traits
are tattooed on our backbones
hidden under layers of weather-worn skin and clothes
        maybe we can't see them,
but they keep us standing up

So maybe it is all a competition
or a lie
or maybe we’re not real at all
But maybe that’s okay
Because neither is any of this
Kado MacMurphy Feb 2017
i am the liquid rage u consume to,
sweat me in the blood you,
drop me foxy 5 Me O,
D-I-P-T,
collided with a chainsaw carving of a chainsaw,
carving gelatin figurines of wolverines,
stand back in my skull crusher's splinter twin,
and find mr. bones, i hefta make a plea to take this,
foxy out my brain, blow
rainbow holes connecting me to him,
lead me to the bedroom,
mr. bones,
is all alone,
objective one,
i am lebron james, and this is a conversation,
mr. bones agrees and now i know we gotta beat that trik,
white light, contaminated
strapped tight, go ahead and check my pockets,
for the souls i have devoured,
low in the hours,
face my wrists, the memory,
wont come to me.
Mike Essig Nov 2015
The universe has
a millions signs
that say no,
but
only a few
that say yes.

/////

Everything is fragile
except the rope
around your neck.

/////

Just another
day in paradise:
exciting as a
hole in the ground.

/////

If you think
with your ****
expect a few
headaches.

/////

All the world's misery
is caused by men
who wear suits.

/////

Sometimes, you must
open a window
just to let a little
oxygen into your life.

/////

My ancestors
marched to war.
I flew.
Maybe there is
such a thing
as progress.

/////

Why do we
fall in love
instead of
rise in love?
Because there's
no such thing
as a rise with
a thud at the end.

/////

Cat's know everything
but divulge nothing.

/////

Death waits
patiently as
a dead cat.
They know
each other
very well.

/////

Enough now,
I am moving to
Lake Michigan
where I will
hunt wolverines
for a living
and learn
to eat ice.

/////

Have to flee,
there is a warrant
out for me for
everything I
never did.

/////

So difficult
some mornings
to face the
ugly emptiness of
the sober page

/////

Wanted:
a future
without
a perhaps.

/////

If I turned
wine into water,
made the living dead,
and called in demons
would these
be proclaimed miracles
and I hailed as
the new messiah?
Might be dangerous.
I imagine the sound
of hammers and nails
calling my name.

   ~mce
More housecleaning. Fell free to laugh. I do.
A B Perales Aug 2016
Hunters wear camoflauge and
play the wind while stalking their prize.

Breath when you squeeze the trigger
the way he taught you when you were just a boy.

Make a clean cut ,save the liver and the still warm heart.

Don't take more than what you need.

A good sized buck can last you all winter.

And always be sure to leave something behind for the
wolves and the wolverines.
Bruce Jenner's cranium houses the brain of a woman with knockers
too ****** cherry for old, run-of-the-mill Y.W.C.A. city gym lockers
Winter landscape

The landscape was white like frozen waves
smoke from farm chimney went straight only dispersed
when meeting the upper sky.
Ah, this innocence of virginal snow cold as nun's cell.
The boy sat in the cow-shed warming his hands on the udder
of a cow, later, he walked on snow so pure it made crushing
the sound that broke the snow's ***** under his foot
But there were tracks after hares, birds, wolverines, and
the opportunistic fox.
Blood in snow, like a sheet on a wedding night the sacrificing of
the lamp sanctified by priest and church.
The fox had caught a mouse that built a tunnel under the snow
thinking it was snug and safe.
A crow sits on a tree watches the scene with irony in it black eyes,
afar  someone calls him in for breakfast
Michael Marchese Jan 2018
My last supper was years ago
Hunger and I go way back
We like watching things burn
And then making dark magic
It’s tragic, really I know
We still see *******
Where you see snow
And sometimes
When the dark closes in at night
We still think to ourselves
How much longer can this war,
This war, this dreadful war
Still go on without end
Without hashtag or trend
Before we realize it’s class
And landowning elites
And the company perks
Who still count our defeats
As a nation of states
When there’s so much more human
We have on our plates
Grabbin’ guns
Shootin’ kids
Perpetuating the races
We run to feel free
From the gods who erase us
With fury and fire
With wrathful sin scorn
Unto those who equate us
Drop bomb gender norms
Like it’s somehow ok
To treat others as lesser
When anything you can do I can do better
My nevermore letter is gone like the weather
And hers is much wetter when we are together
Enduring the cold like two Soviet wolverines
I am the West and the East still just wants to be me

In the lurches of subways
In alleys I’m lurking
In deserts I’m drilling
My evil plan working
And spreading like viruses
Spending and spending and spending
My envy
To no more to gain
Another man’s trash
Is the throne that I claim
And I treasure existence
And covet the stars in the sky
With oblivion
Passions of panic and all I desire
Is Amazon beauty to add to the fire
To dare speak my name
Costs and arm and a leg
And a chemical conscience
To think like my puppets
You’d first lose your mind
Than your shoes and your wallet
Your nickel and dime
And the scene of your crime
Would be questioned
And pondered through all the non-linear
Moments in time
And now as you still read
What possession really means
You come to see my value
Only measured
In your greed
Satsih Verma Feb 2019
Crushed under the sky,
when you had
become a transition.

In the lonely
night, waking without you,
when words start screaming.
like howls of wolverines.

Life around appears now, not
the worth of holy water, in your
folded palm.

Your birthday flowers
bloom in dark. Someone
will dance around the campfire
till the crack of half-light.

The salt lake bubbles.
Nobody will drown in it.
And I believe,
purple stones would stand
to guard the new spectacle.

— The End —