Tag: dreary

real vampeer

A warning to all those Bright and Kind:
Vampeer are here and their thirst is real,
They hunger for a sustenance they can’t define,
Unable to salvage purpose through what’s material…

Folklore be damned, for molding myth with matter,
Vampeer are not immortal, nor opponents of the Sun, […]

Real Vampeer


A warning to all those Bright and Kind:
Vampeer are here and their thirst is real,
They hunger for a sustenance they can’t define,
Unable to salvage purpose through what’s material…

Folklore be damned, for molding myth with matter,
Vampeer are not immortal, nor opponents of the Sun,
They share no lineage to Cain and Lillith, nor that of Judas,
But without a breath they will betray the meek for little more than coin…

Driven by an emptiness that preludes their being,
They will seduce, they will play up to play thru,
Given to a desire that supercedes their meaning,
They will confuse, they will build up to build thru…

Give naught of yourself to those that return less,
Sustain yourself as the treasure others wish to possess.


/02/26/09/
M. L. Michael

About…

she found me with my head down

she found me with my head down,
with the weight of a wanting world weighing heavily
and my thoughts running dark spirals down my heart.
she spoke my name in a melody more meaningful than any note,
pulling me to the surface, breaking through the murk of my malaise,
she’s a beacon, the light to guide me to safety.
which makes me wonder, am I dreaming? can she really be talking to me?[…]

she found me with my head down

she found me with my head down,
with the weight of a wanting world weighing heavily
and my thoughts running dark spirals down my heart.
she spoke my name in a melody more meaningful than any note,
pulling me to the surface, breaking through the murk of my malaise,
she’s a beacon, the light to guide me to safety.
which makes me wonder, am I dreaming? can she really be talking to me?
with her angelic smile, her cherubic oaken eyes, as pure as the joy she inspires,
she asks me what is wrong, and I struggle to find a reason
when moments ago I was drowning in them.
I forget all about the weight and I think only of Life.
great, glorious, Life. 
the sweet birdsong, the artistry of a sunset, 
everything good is magnified by her presence,
beautiful is just a word. she is the living embodiment,
by effortlessly being, she makes being, effortless. 

11/24/07
M. L. Michael

About…

some kind of addict

Yes, I must admit,
I’m some kind of addict.
I’m a bee buzzing for a score of pollen
or I’m a bear jonesin for a pawful of honey.
and/maybe/either/or,
I’m a seeker in the desert,
who has lost myself on purpose
,
so I can find my new way

out[…]

Yes, I must admit,
I’m some kind of addict.
I’m a bee buzzing for a score of pollen
or I’m a bear jonesin for a pawful of honey.
and/maybe/either/or,
I’m a seeker in the desert, 
who has lost myself on purpose,
so I can find my new way 
out. 

12`12`06
M. L. Michael

About…

an er nurse says:

There is no horror like my horror.

Tonight a child was brought in,
clutching his teddy-bear matted in blood,
over his tummy,

over an abdominal gunshot soaked within
his Scooby-Doo pajamas, n[…]

An ER Nurse Says:
(there is no horror like my horror)

There is no horror like my horror.

Tonight a child was brought in,
clutching his teddy-bear matted in blood,
over his tummy, 
over an abdominal gunshot soaked within
his Scooby-Doo pajamas, 
where beneath a rose blooms 
deep enough to dip my pinkie.
The trauma unit responds vigorously,
and in the frenzy of survival someone tosses 
the kid’s teddy-bear into the trash.

(when he cries I think of my own.)

There is no horror like my horror.

Tonight a couple was brought in,
as the broken result from a motorcycle crash,
it took all three paramedics to pry them apart,
but it took an eighteen wheeler to tear them apart.
and when they were carried in as careful as coffins
our trauma unit responds passionately, 
but despite all our emotions,
someOne tosses 
the boyfriend’s life into the trash.

(when she cries I think of my own.)
 
There is no horror like my horror.
The only horror is my horror.

-10-17-06
M. L. Michael

About…

from the front lines

On the celebration home
my troop receives new orders
decreeing: we must return
to the desolate urban hell,
where there is so much blood
soaked into the history of the stones.[…]

from the front lines 

On the celebration home
my troop receives new orders
decreeing: we must return
to the desolate urban hell,
where there is so much blood
soaked into the history of the stones.
 
We depart with a world of heaviness
on our backs, and a world of weariness
on our hearts,
We depart following orders,
marching backwards through the desert.
 
Halfway there, one grunt breaks down,
in the middle of the city he stands up and blubbers:
”i can't go back, i can't go back,
 it's like you're constantly drowning.
 it's like you never get a chance to breathe!
 we're never going to escape!
 we're never going to—“
and before anyone could signal for him to hush
there's a whistle of air, and the grunt goes down.
 
no one talks the rest of the way back,
but everyone is replaying that as a mantra.
and everyone is questioning their motives.
and everyone is weighing their beliefs…
 is it necessary to go back?
 wasn't the reason we came:
 so that we never have to come back?
 isn't there a better answer than
attack and defend?
 
tomorrow we return to our station in hell,
where almost everyone there doesn't want us there.
and tomorrow we return to our duty.
where almost everyone here doesn't want us here.
but don't get me wrong,
tomorrow I will march hard and proud,
I will defend my country with all my heart,
but don't get me wrong,
I will never stop wishing for a better way.

-10-05-06-
M. L. Michael -

About…

dealing with the reaper

Reaper, you came without warning.
one minute we were a happy, intact, family,
the next we are fearful of your knocking.
(…because you’re everything we wished to avoid,
knock, knock, knocking at our door…)[…]

dealing with the reaper

Reaper, you came without warning.
one minute we were a happy, intact, family,
the next we are fearful of your knocking.
(…because you’re everything we wished to avoid,
knock, knock, knocking at our door…)

Reaper, why won’t you ever go away,
is it because you are jealous
that life is so warm, and death is so cold,
(…or are you just doing your duty
because our life is so temporary, and your side is so forever?)

Reaper, where are you headed
with our loved ones in your carriage,
where are you steering your Nightmare steeds
so that we can never see the again?
(…and how come you are the only one,
who ever makes it back across the eternal fold?)

07-07-06
M. L. Michael

About…

Sid(n’)Nancy

yeah- you know, it’s so erotic,
when you pucker your lips over my barrel,
and moan some sounds like:
you love me, or, you loathe me.
whatever, it doesn’t matter, because
yeah- you know, it’s too erotic,
when your eyes whisper to stop,
but your lips quiver like an addict.[…]

Sid(n’)Nancy

yeah- you know, it’s so erotic, 
when you pucker your lips over my barrel,
and moan some sounds like:
you love me, or, you loathe me.
whatever, it doesn’t matter, because
yeah- you know, it’s too erotic,
when your eyes whisper to stop, 
but your lips quiver like an addict.

so, now you have become even harder to understand. 
so, now you have become even harder to comprehend.
when all I offer is a mouthful of that gleaming, grey metal. 
when all you show is angelic crying and devilish grinning, 
like that’s one normal gesture- 
like this is one normal relationship.

yeah- you know, you’re so damn exhilarating,
the way your doughy eyes can gild your pain, 
whenever my rope grinds too deeply into your skin. 
yeah- you know, you’re so damn entrancing, 
when you’re tied too tight,
and all your delicate curves bulge out, enticing,
begging for any attention. any attention i’ll 
greedily give. 

but you cluck your tongue to recapture my attention,
and beyond that inch or two of glinting black,
i hear words i imagine as – ‘you’re my jesus.’
or maybe, ‘you’re my judas.’ 
whatever, it doesn’t matter.
because now i see your eyes return to holding me hostage,
and now i see myself  confused  and writhing in ecstasy 
inside the brilliance of your dragon fire - all consuming
the best of me.
 
i am twice enamored by your hurt beauty,
i am thrice overwhelmed by your mirror paradox:
that helpless way in which your expression begs for freedom. 
versus, that exotic way your form begs to be constrained…

…then, when i feel myself about to burst,
    you know its your turn.
    i untie you so you can tie me tight,
    and you don’t wait a second before you
    thrust that gun into my mouth…

                      i loathe you.
                      i love you.
                      i loathe you.
                      i love you. 

06-08-06
M. L. Michael

About…

closing time (hey little doll)

hey little doll,
i don’t know if you can hear me, but…
it’s closing time…and we’re closing for good,
and in case you haven’t noticed,

you’re the only doll left…
you’re the only doll we could not sell.
you’re the only doll no one wanted, not even for free.[…]

closing time (hey little doll)

hey little doll, 
i don’t know if you can hear me, but…
it’s closing time…and we’re closing for good,
and in case you haven’t noticed, 
you’re the only doll left…
you’re the only doll we could not sell.
you’re the only doll no one wanted, not even for free.
which means, i’m sad to say, that your fate is not well
you’re doomed to be boxed up, and sent to storage hell.

what? don’t blame me with those sad button eyes,
you should instead be blaming your manufacturer, 
condemning the worker for his shoddy workmanship,
for letting you off the conveyer looking all fragile and misused. 

or you can blame it on advertising, on GI-JOE and Barbie too, 
all those unrealistic dolls with their unrealistic lives,
and their plastic looks plus their plastic accessories…
you should blame them for making you, with your fabric
pushing out at the seems, it creates such an 
undesirable taste in the consumer’s mouth…

but, shit, don’t you go blaming me,
i’d buy you, i swear, 
if only i had the money…
if only i had the funds…
damn it! stop looking at me,
i’d take you home, i swear,
if only i could afford you,
…and they don’t pay me nearly enough.

ok look, if you promise to stop staring,
i’ll be up front with the truth:
that the reason you are still here
is because no one knows what to do
with such a broken little thing.

hey now, don’t take that so hard.
i’m only telling the truth.
hey now, you better cheer up,
because the box is one lonely place
when you are sad and bitter with yourself.
hey now, it’s nothing personal,
it’s just the way life works… 


M. L. Michael 
03-15-06

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…

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…