Author: mlmichael

You – Random – Russian – Beauty – You.

You.
I want You.
I want you to sing to me a Russian Lullaby.
…Even if you don’t know of one…

I want you to summon the Seductress-Slavic-Goddess –
that’s reserved somewhere beneath your Regal-Russian-Presence,
and channel for me a Lovely-Russian-Lullaby…] […]

You – Random – Russian – Beauty – You.
(A Safe Sex interpretation of The Mile High Club)

You.
I want You.
I want you to sing to me a Russian Lullaby.
…Even if you don’t know of one…
I want you to summon the Seductress-Slavic-Goddess –
that’s reserved somewhere beneath your Regal-Russian-Presence,
and channel for me a Lovely-Russian-Lullaby…

You.
I want You.
I want you to use those lips (which hint at gates I’ve yet to reach)
to Sing to me a Sweetly Serenade of Pure Reflection
Of the long lay of land your ancestors seduced and made their home,
…to Sing to me a Celebrative Chant of Sound Shape
Of your gorgeous genetic makeup’s making up –
 this one ‘heaven of a’ Form.

You.
I want You.
I want you to imagine all your world’s a catwalk.
And all the eyes of the men and women upon you
-	the very model of their desire and their attention –
[And my eyes certainly.
My eyes upon you like a hawk’s
: spotting a white rabbit in the wide, timeless, tundra 
wanting nothing more than to…swoop down and…sweep you up,
up high above the earth, where I will sing…
…my poetry of You.]

You.
I want You.
I want you to sing me a Russian Lullaby.

You – 
Random - Russian – Beauty –
 You.


 M. L. Michael
12/18/10

About…

Ruminations:

This image never fading;
Taken by the mental eye shutter:


— It’s that maverick you love.
— Caught in silhouette
— against the setting sun they’re riding off into. […]

Ruminations:
On A Cowgirl Riding Off Into The Sunset
[A Eulogy for Ms. Annette Rohde] 


This image never fading;
Taken by the mental eye shutter:

--	It's that maverick you love.
--	Caught in silhouette 
--	against the setting sun they're riding off into.

At such a distance, 
there are no words that can be spoken -  that can be heard... 
At such a distance,
What matters is what is remembered,
...what we know in our hearts...and what we feel with each beat...

One last image: The cowgirl on her horse,
		  Waving her cowgirl hat,		  
		  Giving a Texan Goodbye.

And we – the beloved – frozen in the foreground -
Are the ones who know the reasons and whys 
Behind that most meaningful of goodbyes...

* So, message received, dear maverick,
* Message received...

12/11/10
M. L. Michael

About…

chronic pain (A character study…)

Mr. Hyde comes out when Dr. Jekyll can no longer stand it.
When the nuances of pain can no longer be procrastinated,
The good doctor ingests the serum of surrender
and leaves the back door open to his susceptible subconscious,
where his alter-ego, the maniac Mr. Hyde, slinks in like a black cat,
and there from the shadows, Mr. Hyde calls the shots… […]

Chronic Pain: 
(A Character Study of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde)

Mr. Hyde comes out when Dr. Jekyll can no longer stand it.
When the nuances of pain can no longer be procrastinated, 
The good doctor ingests the serum of surrender
and leaves the back door open to his susceptible subconscious,
where his alter-ego, the maniac Mr. Hyde, slinks in like a black cat,
and there from the shadows, Mr. Hyde calls the shots…

Whereas Jekyll is a man of science –
passionate with postulation, 
romantic with reason…

Hyde is a monster by treason,
a pessimist of the human condition,
a tyrant obsessed with zero-sum fixes…

….

The good Dr. Jekyll’s objections be damned
What crazed Mr. Hyde will get what he wants, 
Whenever pain drives the good Dr. to the serum
The monster Hyde takes over, and find everything justifiable.


M. L. Michael 
11/30/10

About…

Dear friend, do not give up

I went into the darkest forests of my mind
and came out with eyes more sensitive to the light…

I ate from the most bitter of fruits
and developed a taste that sings of the possibilities of sweetness…

I had ears ravaged by the wailing of my woes
and discovered peace in these sublime stretches of silence… […]

Dear Friend, Do Not Give Up


I went into the darkest forests of my mind
and came out with eyes more sensitive to the light…

I ate from the most bitter of fruits
and developed a taste that sings of the possibilities of sweetness…

I had ears ravaged by the wailing of my woes
and discovered peace in these sublime stretches of silence…

I held in my hands my own broken spirit
and felt along the cracks for what needed to be mended…

I became revolted by the stench of my depression
and I fell back in love with the perfume of life, love, and laughter…

11/30/10
M. L. Michael

About…

A *hiccup* Sonnet

Booze is there to make it bearable,
Liquor’s there to dull the pain quicker.
So here’s a drink to shoo the angels away.
And here’s a drink to give the demons their play.

Let this one be for all my friends –
Who guide the hand of this beer-brained-dozer, […]

A *hiccup* Sonnet

Booze is there to make it bearable,
Liquor’s there to dull the pain quicker.
So here’s a drink to shoo the angels away.
And here’s a drink to give the demons their play.

Let this one be for all my friends –
Who guide the hand of this beer-brained-dozer,
And let this one be for all my family –
Who bear the crash of this rum-filled-saucer.

…And let the rest be for me…
…The more deservin’ of the three!
Because each drink is part of my down-payment,
For the part of life I’ll folly to call my rent.
…
So, there’s a drink for every affliction –
But what is there for this drunk’s deflection?

10/12/10
M. L. Michael

About…

This isn’t really a sonnet…but… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Here ya go anyway. It’s a drunk sonnet.

my rickety-crickety (broken) back

Racked by the racket
of my rickety-crickety (broken) back
I’ll…blind-baby-grab… for anything transportive,

That is, I’ll see your Crown and Coke, and raise you
a midnight toke, I’ll see your Seagram and Seven,
and call it with these two little pills prescribing heaven.[…]

my rickety-crickety (broken) back

Racked by the racket 
of my rickety-crickety (broken) back
I’ll…blind-baby-grab… for anything transportive,   
That is, I’ll see your Crown and Coke, and raise you
a midnight toke, I’ll see your Seagram and Seven, 
and call it with these two little pills prescribing heaven.

Wrecked by the wreckage
of my worn-torn (broken) back
I’ll… come-humbling on my knees, and in your arms,
Meaning, I’ll sing your song, if you’ll right my wrong,
I’ll swear your good-god name, if you can take away
my god-damn pain.

Heckled by the hell
of my helter-skelter (broken) back
I’ll… cry-scribbling some heart-soaked words.
What I mean is, I’ll try-fiddling some poetry-steeped 
meaning from a blood-soaked world.     

Racked by the racket
of my rickety-crickety (broken) back
I’ll… blind-baby-seek for anything transcendent,
That is, I’ll see your chanting mantra, and raise you
to bodhisattva, I’ll see your hours of nirvana seeking mediation, 
and call it with a day of Woodstock likened celebration.

M. L. Michael 
05-03-08- <---> 05-10-10-

About…

For Delacroix

Lo, America!

You are not the proud, idyllic, Goddess from my youth,
you are not the one my elders spoke of, or what the history books taught,
no, you are no longer that idealized version of the Leading Lady Liberty –
charging the field, and fighting tyranny in all her unabashed beauty.

Let it be known, I have wiped the newborn sleep from my eyes
to see so clearly the America crumbling all around me… […]

...For Delacroix... 
 
Lo, America!
 
            You are not the proud, idyllic, Goddess from my youth,
            you are not the one my elders spoke of, or what the history books taught,
            no, you are no longer that idealized version of the Leading Lady Liberty –
            charging the field, and fighting tyranny in all her unabashed beauty. 
 
            Let it be known, I have wiped the newborn sleep from my eyes
            to see so clearly the America crumbling all around me…
            I’ve discovered my Freedoms becoming less and less substantial…
	    These freedoms our Forefathers believed are unalienable rights.
                         
            …America, consider this tough love…
 
            You are quickly becoming a hypocrite and a mockery
            of what our Fathers had thoughtfully penned,
            and although you have made everyone so proud before,
            you’re now lazy and complacent from all that glory.
 
            America, I have to ask, have you lost your mind already?
            Not even two and a half centuries have passed
            and you’ve become so absentminded of your history
            that you cannot even recognize your past in a painting.
 
            This deviation of your character – it needs to stop.
            We need the old America back – the striking femme Freedom,
            fighting for those threatened lost, she’s half nude, but not at all ashamed,
            for she is the embodiment of strength, she is the essence of life…
 
            Viva La Liberty … Viva La America …
 
 
M. L. Michael 
-09-28-10-

About…

in favor of freedom

There is a feeling in breathing
that we, as adults, have long forgotten;
that we, as babes born screaming and writhing,
declared our first breaths as acts of defying.

Freedom! Freedom! cried those infant lungs.
a positive cry, for a posited life,
a great, big, infant roar in favor of Freedom.[…]

‘in favor of Freedom’ 

There is a feeling in breathing
that we, as adults, have long forgotten; 
that we, as babes born screaming and writhing,
declared our first breaths as acts of defying.

Freedom! Freedom! cried those infant lungs.
a positive cry, for a posited life,
a great, big, infant roar in favor of Freedom.

…

And there is a feeling in living,
that we, as Americans, have long forgotten;
that we, as citizens conceived bloodied and shocked,
declared our first breaths as acts of defying.

Freedom! Freedom! cried those American lungs.
a positive cry, for a posited reality,
a great, big, American roar in favor of Freedom.

M. L. Michael 
08/08/10

About…

monkey on back syndrome

if you are silent, then you can see it,
beneath the din of reality
there’s the subtle screeching
of this pervasive pain situation.

what doctors dub as a ‘chronic pain condition’,
I illustrate as ‘monkey on back syndrome’ […]

monkey on back syndrome

if you are silent, then you can see it,
beneath the din of reality
there’s the subtle screeching 
of this pervasive pain situation.

what doctors dub as a ‘chronic pain condition’,
I illustrate as ‘monkey on back syndrome’, 
(…there being this cliché of a monkey on my back,
…all too real, the monkey has become my back.)

     See, this simian is my spine,
     it’s imbued with fire, 
     the breath of blisters, 
     and the scratches of scars;
     … it burns with all the 
     wrong kinds of warmth…

so, my doctors repeat: chronic pain is chronic,
and some kind of pill will always be necessary
to quiet this monkey’s riot,
to slow this monkey’s roll…

like some kind of pill 
my doctors are ready to prescribe.
(…a shout out to all those poppy seed plants,
…here’s a little pill capable of belittling a lot.)

oh! some kind of pill!
that has me battling an everyday absurdity,
that in order to circumvent my monkey’s will,
I must fall under the pain pill’s authority.

oh! some kind of life!
spent with either the long racket of the monkey,
or the short leash of the prescription pain pill,

no! it is no kind of life!	
when you are unable to reflect on beauty
without the tyranny of those wretched two…

05-19-10
M. L. Michael

About…