Admit one

writing is the ticket to
my salvation.
pen and paper are friends
carryin’ me up-up-an’-away,
beyond mountains, thru clouds
until my head is dizzy, whirring,
fuzzy with goodness-fulfilling-soul.[…]

Admit One

writing is the ticket to
my salvation.
pen and paper are friends
carryin’ me up-up-an’-away,
beyond mountains, thru clouds
until my head is dizzy, whirring,
fuzzy with goodness-fulfilling-soul.

by spinning this irresistible yarn
I steal the spotlight [back]
from all that iron rod pain and pollution,
and turn upon fertile soil vast in my mind
where fruit grows from gnarled roots of
sweet-bittersweet-rotten memories
mixing together to create the most
soul-fulfilling-goodness

writing is the ticket to my salvation
what is yours?

M. L. Michael 
09-26-05

About…

An’yea’

She took summer away with her-
On a plane – across a pond – I lost her,
Rather, I lost my(self)(my)solstice, that nestled pearl
Of warmth, existing only two delicate months
In the shell of a remainder year…

An’yea’

She took summer away with her-
On a plane – across a pond – I lost her,
Rather, I lost my(self)(my)solstice, that nestled pearl
Of warmth, existing only two delicate months
In the shell of a remainder year…

M. L. Michael 
08-21-05

About…

May we rest in peacce

some sot filled fingernails scratch the surface
of Love unchecked, or an apathy towards a spreading
cancer: this boy, digging splinters beneath his fingers,<br?
mixing blood and earth, or maybe passion and pity,
while he tries to recall, the memory of his lovers lips,
a tenderness so soft, he cannot hold on to the feeling..[…]

may we rest in peace

some sot filled fingernails scratch the surface
of Love unchecked, or an apathy towards a spreading 
cancer: this boy, digging splinters beneath his fingers,
mixing blood and earth, or maybe passion and pity,
while he tries to recall, the memory of his lovers lips,
a tenderness so soft, he cannot hold on to the feeling…
without the worms…without the maggots- stealing 
away the depth from her irises, those Edenous portals 
now portals to some Greater End, that never ends, and
promises a forever, he didn’t think could come so soon.

 M. L. Michael 
08-16-05

About…

A Titan’s burden

It began with Atlas complaining; like
a crackling whip of God’s gavel crashing, or
the preamble to a symphony of rolling thunder.

“The World on my shoulders, has become
no greater than The Cross on my back.”
He spits out those words like bile coming up.
And casts his eyes astray to avoid the splatter. […]

A Titan’s Burden

It began with Atlas complaining; like
a crackling whip of God’s gavel crashing, or
the preamble to a symphony of rolling thunder.

“The World on my shoulders, has become
no greater than The Cross on my back.”
He spits out those words like bile coming up.
And casts his eyes astray to avoid the splatter. 

…as Atlas fights the weariness seeping in;
He roars; his patience wears thin
long after his muscles charred away; 
He curses; and postmarks damnations 
that never get sent for fear of blasphemy, 
and any new consequences he must carry.  
	
M. L. Michael 
08-03-05

About…

nevermind the scarecrow

Nevermind the scarecrow,
Posted with his buttonhole eyes

Scouring the palatable emptiness of the West,
While his straw-filled heart
Yearns in harmony for illumination in the East.[…]

nevermind the scarecrow

Nevermind the scarecrow,
Posted with his buttonhole eyes 
Scouring the palatable emptiness of the West,
While his straw-filled heart 
Yearns in harmony for illumination in the East.

Aghast; he’s a byproduct of terror, or
A ghost; he’s an Asian butterfly,
Circling dazed in a breeze not his own.
And imprisoned within this hay ride to hell,
He’s doomed to a chase the snake 
That won’t stop eating its tail.

M. L. Michael 
08-03-05

About…

Rockwellian motives

I knew a painting…
So much prettier when it was true,
A Rockwell family gathered ‘round American values
Caught gape mouthed with their eyes lit by laughter.

I see a painting…
So much uglier when stained by thinner: […]

Rockwellian Motives

I knew a painting…
So much prettier when it was true,
A Rockwell family gathered ‘round American values
Caught gape mouthed with their eyes lit by laughter.

I see a painting…
So much uglier when stained by thinner:
The degradable words that dilute the color,
And blur all the beautiful distinctions into a messy montage.

I knew a painting…
Once eye level, salutatory and proud,
Projecting an idealism for togetherness,
As the centerpiece in a room once centered on peace.

I see a painting…
Now an eyesore tugging strings of nostalgia 
Collapsed on the floor like the broken boozer 
That everyone ignores but no one trips over.

M. L. Michael 
07-23-05

About…

passion’s plaything

lovestruck long enough to catch a buzz,
and surf this high to its next great wave,
this next great splash, or epiphany within,
the ecstasy that comes from a crash,
to Divide to, something greater than-
pummeling this ragged andy, a mere
haggard andy, manufactured and known,
as passion’s plaything.

passion’s plaything

lovestruck long enough to catch a buzz,
and surf this high to its next great wave,
this next great splash, or epiphany within, 
the ecstasy that comes from a crash,
to Divide to, something greater than-
pummeling this ragged andy, a mere
haggard andy, manufactured and known,
as passion’s plaything.

M. L. Michael 
07/20/05

About…

suburban causality

she cries “woe be gone” with her woebegone eyes
huddled rejected on cold Cathedral steps,

hugging her dejected self, it’s a bit too tight
cuz’ her belly protrudes a bit too round
and everything seems lost, just after it was found.[…]

suburban causality 

she cries “woe be gone” with her woebegone eyes
huddled rejected on cold Cathedral steps, 
hugging her dejected self, it’s a bit too tight
cuz’ her belly protrudes a bit too round
and everything seems lost, just after it was found.
she cries, “woe be gone” with her woebegone eyes
as an understatement to an overstated cause,
heard so much no one listens –or no one cares-
;just stares…and condemns this teenager’s plight
as if they’d done better…they slink into night.

she screams “woe be gone” with her woebegone dreams,
fragmented rainbows at the bottom of her battered sole;
-her other sole she lost- sometime after she got the news,
that lovers always lose, and cheaters always prosper;
empty handed in a game with the chips stacked against her.
she screams “woe be gone” with her woebegone dreams,
turned beautiful liars with butterfly wings
taunting by flutter almost within grasp. Then-
dart impossibly far away with each kick in her belly
in a beat that she is beginning to see is a beautiful melody.

M. L. Michael
07-01-05

About…

Thorns on a rose

Mayhap she knew, mayhap she did not,
She was the apple of my eye, or
A fruit called obsession, ripe yet firm
And plump ready for pluckin’.
Her eyes reminding me of our first date,
Hide-n-Seek in downtown drunk lit alleys,[…]

Mayhap she knew, mayhap she did not,
She was the apple of my eye, or
A fruit called obsession, ripe yet firm
And plump ready for pluckin’.
Her eyes reminding me of our first date,
Hide-n-Seek in downtown drunk lit alleys,
Stalking the night as I whispered her gifts,
Lurking behind the intimacy of a pole…

Mayhap she felt, mayhap she did not, 
The alcohol sting of our chemical romance,
Stealing her conscious like she stole my heart,
Falling into my arms like she fell into my Reality.
“Stop,” I tell her doll eyes, “we’re moving too fast.”
As she dreams of our wedding, and children to be,
I kiss her chloroform lips, I savor her taste.
Thanking God for my luck in such savory a catch….

Mayhap she struggled, mayhap she did not,
When her Reality returned in bondage and hungover.
Sobbing her joy, wailing her passion, in her room
Of black and white snapshots, wallpapering her in.
Private moments selflessly shared for my film.
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how love confines,
And wilts the vibrancy from my angel’s face,
These days, days, in a daze… oh, how cruel love carries on…

M. L. Michael
06-13-05

About…

Purdy

…a purdy girl came in light camo’
and washed denim, jangling my way

with her baggy legs swishing against another
in some, hypnotic, and, subliminal, way,
she turns away before her face can truly grace,,[…]

Purdy 

…a purdy girl came in light camo’ 
and washed denim, jangling my way 
with her baggy legs swishing against another
in some, hypnotic, and, subliminal, way,
she turns away before her face can truly grace,
and instead I’m hammered by my heart’s fervor
as her hair cascades over her shoulders 
in the descent of a burgundy waterfall.
She disappears ‘round a corner,
only to appear ‘round the next,
and sashayed my way with a reserved smile,
that spoke more of things we left unheard.
				
M. L. Michael
04-20-05

About…