Author: mlmichael

Beyond Heaven

Our matter danced before we ever met,
elemental building blocks that took each other for a spin,
around and around – closer and closer,
until their union formed something new –
something bright and something pulsating,
a bit of the beginning
and a bit of the end. […]

Beyond Heaven

Our matter danced before we ever met,
elemental building blocks that took each other for a spin,
around and around – closer and closer,
until their union formed something new -
something bright and something pulsating,
a bit of the beginning
and a bit of the end.

Our matter danced again when we met,
orbits colliding in a memory of fusion,
growing dizzy in love and creating something new,
something bright and something pulsating,
a bit of the beginning
and a bit of the end.

Our matter will dance again long after we met,
after saying goodbye and drifting so far apart
that we return all the way around and closer again,
until there's a collision and a collapse -
a bang of something new,
something bright and something pulsating,
a bit of the beginning,
and a bit of the end.

-06/28/2020-
M. L. Michael

About…

Maybe I Will

Maybe I’ll melt,
like one, lone, last of many, snow flurry
on a day when one had almost forgotten winter,
I will fall from a frozen heaven with grandiose loops and twirls,
catching rays of starlight and tossing them back with glee,
until I finally reach the end of my long journey
and melt into the ground, goodbye.[…]

Maybe I Will

Maybe I'll melt,
like one, lone, last of many, snow flurry
on a day when one had almost forgotten winter,
I will fall from a frozen heaven with grandiose loops and twirls,
catching rays of starlight and tossing them back with glee,
until I finally reach the end of my long journey
and melt into the ground, goodbye.

Maybe I'll extinguish,
like an ember cracking forth from the hearth,
crackling out of chaos and combustion in a fiery arc,
I will create my own prophecy - a tiny meteor flung across the sky,
and wish upon myself,
shedding sparks as I stream by,
shedding my self with every spark,
shedding, shedding, goodbye.

Maybe I'll fade,
like a memory of that first kiss,
never anything you can hold in your hand, but
always something that weighs heavy in your heart,
I will hold on like we're entwined, like we are always wrapped in that time,
and with each moment that passes I'll grow ever softer,
Ever grayer, Ever less and less of a presence,
until I'm not
but a memory saying, goodbye.


M. L. Michael
04-04-20

About…

Dear Jacket zipper

dear jacket zipper that never fully zips down,
why must you torture me so?
whenever I am about to take you off,
why must you suddenly go cross-eyed and hackneyed?
so I must try, in vain, to unzip, again, and again,
your meaning all the way down?[…]

Dear Jacket Zipper

dear jacket zipper that never fully zips down,
why must you torture me so?
whenever I am about to take you off,
why must you suddenly go cross-eyed and hackneyed? 
so I must try, in vain, to unzip, again, and again, 
your meaning all the way down?

it's almost like
with omnipresent glee,
you'll make me struggle,
as I try to match this sudden and absurd festivity.

I'll zip up and down, up and down,
compulsively punctuating the monotony with muttered curses and swears.
I'll gather looks from strangers like some loon escaped, 
struggling in their straight-jacket,
and cursing at the unseen. 

....Whatever, I don't care, let them stare.
You challenged me from the very first wear.

....but this is our umpteenth, our unknownth, time of such a dance, 
and in our enduring carol, you have grown brittle and thus broken,
and in our end, you fell to the ground without so much a sound.

...

dearest jacket zipper, 
you have taught me so much
about life.

01/04/16
M. L. Michael

About…

Scars & Hooks, Scars & Hooks

the hooks sink in slowly.
(…they know where the scars are…)
and you barely notice,
as they subtly slip back in without a hiss.

and already, just like that.


it’s just. like. that. […]

Scars & Hooks, Scars & Hooks

the hooks sink in slowly.
(...they know where the scars are...)
and you barely notice,
as they subtly slip back in without a hiss.

and already, just like that.

it's just. like. that.
.
.
.
....it feels good,
-a kinked sort of pleasure-
-the sick scratching of a sore-
-the perverse picking of a blemish-
god dammit all. it just feels right.

so these hooks sink in deeper,
drawing up that buried over pain, 
letting it pool to the surface;

and still you let this happen,
because, let's be honest, the hooks were not the beginning,
and because, let's be honest, the hooks begin the game winning. 
.
.
.
The hooks:
...their names are etched - inscribed in their sides,
...just like your name is printed - 
prescribed for all your aches and tides.

The hooks are so defined:
just take two as needed.
okay. that's not enough?
okay. take four instead.
...you know what, whatever, 
take however many is needed
to stop that never ending, forever crashing tide.
(...that last bit is never said, but it's always implied.)
 .
.
.
and so you're strung along - reeled across reality,
unable to tell up from wrong, right from down,
just grasping... hook after hook after hook, 
hoping that one, that one special one, will be the one that finally reels you home.
.
.
.
let this nightmare continue, ad infinitum.
if you wish... 
.
.
.
...unless, ultimately, it's up to you, 
and it's only in rare brevity, those moments of lucid fire, 
that you comprehend this reeling
as a vacuous, fast-forwarding, feeling of rising ire.
and only in this brevity, in your briefest moments of clarity, 
will you have the flash of courage to resist 
the force of dozens of hooks
dragging you through their rough and salty sea.

...and so it's instantly in that moment that you must resist.
as much as it hurts from the drag
of dozens of hooks tearing the other way...
you must resist. 
you are stronger than this.
you are stronger than hubris or shame. 
strong enough to grab a hand,
to take a step back,
to see a hook coming,
to see your scars proving...
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    
    01/03/16
M. L. Michael

About…

Conversations Online

Surprise, surprise,
Cupid messaged me online.
A video chat …. 2:28 a.m…..

And there he is
– a little picture that pops up on my screen,
a request from the profile picture of a semi naked,
half feather ruffled, fully drunk fool that I am beginning to remember…[…]

Conversations Online
(a chance reencounter with Cupid) 


Surprise, surprise, 
Cupid messaged me online.
A video chat .... 2:28 a.m..... 

And there he is 
- a little picture that pops up on my screen,
a request from  the profile picture of a semi naked, 
half feather ruffled, fully drunk fool that I am beginning to remember...

I debate accepting the message...

He instant messages me and says he needs to Face Time.
He says he needs to see me again,
Like back at that bar,  
He says, please, I'm his only friend.

I don't know if that is true, 
but I know that I've enjoyed his company,
however manic-depressive it appeared to be. 

.....I hit accept...

"Hey-hey, Cupid!", I tell him. "It's been a while! What's going on?"

"Oh, dude. Dude, Is that you?! Is that really you?"
He's leaning into the screen - peering at me with
one eye closed, one eye half open. 
And I can see all of his arrows, half cocked in his quiver, 
....pointing everywhere and nowhere altogether. 


"Yeah, Cupid, it's me from the bar,
you said I was the first mortal
that had paid attention to you in years."

Cupid's eyes widened and he jolted back in chair,
and countless arrows fell from his quiver without notice. 

"Woah, I knew it! Man, we had such a great talk!
But then I got so wasted that I totally forgot your info.
And then I saw you come up as a recommend friend,
and I was like, hey! that's that dude! I know that dude!"

I laugh. Because it's almost 3 am, and I can't help it. 
This witching hour  has this nostalgia running thick; 
his enthusiasm is a spectacle I remember, it's intoxicating. 
"Yeah, of course. So how have you been man?
I've been seeing you online a lot, but I've been
busy doing my thing, ya know..."

Cupid laughs. "Oh yeah! I'm all over the Internet now. 
I'm telling ya, I *love* social media. I wish I came up with that.
But that's all my cuz' Apollo's doing. I wish I had thought of it
and that smug bastard knows it. ....Don't even get me started." 

I smile, and remember why I enjoyed Cupid's company.
"For sure. So what has you on at near 3 in the morning?" 

"I can't stop browsing these websites! And then, like I said, I saw your profile come up,
and I was like, holy shit! That's the dude! That's the guy that gets me!"

"I'm pretty sure you were the one getting everyone that night." I say.

He laughs as he was taking a drink and spits on the screen.
"Haha. I woke up the next morning with an empty quiver! 
Haha. Dammit. Let me clean this up."

He returns with a towel and new bottle of wine. 

After he finishes wiping his screen, I say
"You said you needed to talk, tho. 
 That I was you're only friend?" 

He sits back and takes a big swig.
"Yea, right, I do, and yeah, you are!
Do you see what's trending right now?
Dude, I'm blowing up. People can't stop talking about me!"

I shake my head. "Yeah, man, and you're okay with all of that?
It's almost never ending drama, your name is thrown and drug
all across the muddy web. You're constantly being misrepresented.
I don't think that's a good thing at all."

"But it's all publicity, and no publicity is bad publicity, right?!" He laughs and takes another swig.
He wipes his mouth and looks at me as seriously as one can with a
half closed eyelid. "Seriously though, did you read about what happened
between Person-A and Person-B? 
That's some Cleopatra and Marc Anthony type shit!
And now, everyone is talking about me: Who loves who more? 
Who fell out of love first? Who did they love when they were together?
It's great. I love it." He toasts himself with another swig.

...I sigh, and remember why I left Cupid's company at the bar.
"You know, I wish things were different, Cupid. 
I miss the old you." 

Cupid grinned anyway and tapped his screen with his bottle,
"Yeah, yeah. I miss you too...but why wish things were different?
Things are fucking great now! I'm trending *all the damn time*." 
He takes another big swig.

Out of respect, I tip my screen with my can too.
"Yeah, but you're more out of control than you were at the bars,
or maybe you have always been this bad, and now Apollo has
just invented a tool that shows your true depth, 24/7.
....But I still believe in you, Cupid. I always will. 
I will always wish and push for the best of you."
Then I take a long drink from my can to swallow all of that down.

Cupid threw his head back and frowned. "What are you saying?
That I'm not doing great? Did you not just hear me when I said 
'trending all the damn time'?

"Yeah. I heard you...but what does this phantasmal popularity, 
the sharing, the thumbs ups, and the likes, what do they gain you in
anything other distorted and fleeting snapshots of your god-like power?" 

He soured. "More people have been talking about me than every before. 
You have no idea what you are talking about. Apollo, knows what I mean. 
I'm better than ever."

I feel the late hours digging in, and weighing on my mind and my shoulders.
"You know what, I don't know that Apollo would agree.
Sure, you're being talked about, so much so that you've become
a buzz word - a word that just buzzes in and out of the ears of so many people.
Your name may be back on the lips of the masses, and written all across the web,
but it is said in an unintelligible slur and written in an illiterate's scrawl."

Cupid sits there. Staring at me like some stranger just came up and slapped him out of the blue.

My cheeks are red. Partly from the drink, and partially because I feel bad for being so honest. 

Then he says. "Yeah. No. I get it. I appreciate the talk, buddy. Stay in touch." and he abruptly logs off. 

.......

I stare at the logged out and disconnected screen for a while. I think about waiting for him to log back on, so I can explain myself better.. But it's 3:way-too-late in the AM, and I can only reason with Cupid for so long...


 

12/26/15
M. L. Michael

About…

Tolerance and Grocery Shopping

In order to be a more tolerant person,
I think I’m going to wait and do my grocery shopping on the eve of Christmas Eve,
I’ll do it at the biggest, the most crowded, HEB or Wal-Mart around.

This merry grocery gauntlet will test my mettle in almost every way.
I will compete with hordes of hungry procrastinators and foolish planners.

And I will suffer them all. […]

In order to be a more tolerant person, 
I think I'm going to wait and do my grocery shopping on the eve of Christmas Eve,
I'll do it at the biggest, the most crowded, HEB or Wal-Mart around.

This merry grocery gauntlet will test my mettle in almost every way. 
I will compete with hordes of hungry procrastinators and foolish planners. 
And I will suffer them all. 
I will be patient with them as we move, 
like zombies, or like cattle, down the aisles.
 
I will forgive those who trespass against me, 
for they have forgotten the etiquettes of traffic, 
as they travel with their carts half full, and their children fully irritated, 
down the wrong side of the aisle,
glaring at me like I'm the jackass in the way.
 
And then, inevitably, 
whenever I feel that bit of cynicism that exists in us all - 
that humanity is irredeemable, 
that life is a futile circus of charades... 
I'll pause to take it all in,
and I'll shrug and laugh. 
What's the next thing on my list? 

Two hours later, plus thirty minutes in line, I'll give my bounty to the pour souls trapped behind the cash registers and grocery bags. 
I will smile at them and wish them a Merry Christmas. 
They will say the same, but their eyes will be pleading.

Thus, with my cart full, my list marked off,
I will emerge from HEB,
a stronger and more forgiving man.


...

Life may be a circus of charades .. or it may not be. 
But I know one thing. 
It is far from futile. 
Because I checked off everything on my list.


.
.
.

...except the rolls... 
son of a god-dammit it all to hell, 
I forgot the fucking rolls. 
....You know what, screw it. 
We're eating rolled up wonder bread and calling them rolls.
Such is life. 

12.22.15
M. L. Michael

About…

(un)Settling (performed with the ex-optimists – settling)

Settling and settling and settling
Settling in to the unsettling sound
The on and on and on drone,
The twitch, twitch, screech,
The prowling paranoia,
This –my friends- is the disturbing din of Discordia
…The unsettling settling in – reaching out from the rafters of time,[…]

Settling and settling and settling 
Settling  in to the unsettling sound
The on and on and on drone,
The twitch, twitch, screech,
The prowling paranoia, 
This –my friends- is the disturbing din of Discordia 
...The unsettling settling in – reaching out from the rafters of time,
-- A claw screeching across our chalkboard mind.
This is the unsettling settling in – all before us – 
The cacophony of chaos ringing out, forever and forever,
The unsettling settling in –all around us –

The unsettling sound…

::click::
In world news, we have multiple reports from across Europe, that an unidentified extremists group has gone on a destructive spree across the country. Cutting a path from the UK to  France , down through the Middle East, and cutting through India and China. Top officials around the globe are calling this the single largest attack on civilization since the…

::click::
…reign of the Kardashian family? They certainly do not show any signs of slowing down. Earlier this year, Kim quote unquote broke the Internet with a scandalous picture of her naked backside. It’s been said the image has been downloaded, shared, and tweeted, well over 800 million times. And never to be outdone, Kim’s husband, Kanye West, has thrust himself back into the spotlight after he stormed the Grammy’s to protest…

::click::
….a sexy stomach and a tight rear? 
Just one pill a day and you could be shaving off that excess weight in no time. Be ready this summer for the bikini body you've always wanted. Some side effects of Faminall include acute gastronomical distress, insomnia, cognitive dissociation, and cotton mouth. If you have any of these symptoms, please contact your doctor immediately. 
Faminall – the pale miracle pill that promises to make you thin. Be sure to ask your doctor if Faminall is right for you. 





::click:: ::click:: ::click:: 


Unsettling and unsettling and unsettling 
Let's turn instead, settle down to the settling sound,
The ring of right from wrong -
of sound from fury,
the crack of dawn from din, 
of symphony from cacophony 
Break free from the unsettling and 
Settle into something pure, something passionate,
Settle into the lyre – the lute –
The ordered lines and notes – 
The beaming eyes and beating hearts…
.
The settling down. 
That settling sound. 
Settling down.
Settling down.

2.28.15
M. L. Michael

About…

Maybe

What’s the word for the sudden realization that your life is going well?
When you snap from the war fatigue and realize, holy shit, I’m happy.
And that year, after year, after fuck-ing year in the trenches, you notice it’s been all sunshiny for days.
Where’s the snapshot of that sunsmily realization?[…]

Maybe.

What's the word for the sudden realization that your life is going well?
When you snap from the war fatigue and realize, holy shit, I'm happy. 
And that year, after year, after fuck-ing year in the trenches, you notice it's been all sunshiny for days. 
Where's the snapshot of that sunsmily realization?

What's the word for the sound it makes when you snap out of the stupor of solemnity?
When you shake your head, and you shake off that negative clout. 
When you rub your eyes and see this path that you've been making is beginning to make sense.
Where's the snapshot of that dawned expression?


...It's a long con, maybe. 

You hang in there. You don't give up. Everyone suffers. Suffering is relative. People get better. You can get better. You don't give up. You  hang in there...

A long con, maybe.

Maybe. 




2.17.15
M. L. Michael

About…

Her playroom

I want to create a playroom for her.
I want to create a playroom that never leaves her…

…to begin with, I’d fill her room with colorful toys,
so her grasping gaze sees the beauty in every hue,
and the value of each shade along the spectrum. […]

I want to create a playroom for her.
I want to create a playroom that never leaves her...

...to begin with, I'd fill her room with colorful toys, 
so her grasping gaze sees the beauty in every hue, 
and the value of each shade along the spectrum. 
and - against all the warnings - I'll get her toys
that make nothing but music and all kinds of noise - 
because there must be noise, especially in the beginning,
...it's from the noise that we shape our music, 
and there's unrestrained glee to be found in a child's cacophony. 

and, regardless of her age, may there be plenty of books, 
may there be little magical tomes made of cardboard thick pages,
with drawings of dragons and kittens, astronauts and princesses, 
and with short, monosyllabic, phrases, that reinforce positivity,
and cast spells across her imagination like a streaking star across the night.
and to compliment such an unabashed and expanding mind, 
let there be those toys of pure foolishness and absurd deviations. 
whimsical toys that confound the senses and tickle the intuition,
like the toy that ticks down to an arbitrary clock and then explodes
in a hiccupped exclamation of letters, shapes, and expectations.  

and let there be paper, lots and tons of paper, 
with crayons and chalk that will get everywhere but....,
because, surely, for a child, every surface/every space, is a moment,
and every moment must thus be filled with some kind of expression of exploration,
some kind of declaration that they are living like royalty atop make-believe mountain.
...and finally, to end with, let there be soil, a garden of some kind with seeds at the ready.
so her little hands get dirty as she helps plants that may someday be transplanted, 
...because, most of all, it is important for her to know that her playroom 
is not trapped in here, and that what we nourish and grow healthy in here 
is worth our time and our effort to spread and share out there.

-01/15/15
M. L. Michael

About…