Tag: specialplace

“See You In The Morning”

“Night, night. Love you. See you in the morning.”
Those are the words I tell her nearly every night.
After tucking her in, listening to her protests of sleep,
her stories and her distractions, her cries against
the dying of her night.

“Night night. Love you too. See you in the morning.”
She tells me, and I close her door,
shutting those words in her room,
until they are released the next day,
when she opens up her door and says
“good morning.” 

“Night, night. Love you. See you in the morning.”
Those are the words I tell her nearly every night. 
After tucking her in, listening to her protests of sleep,
her stories and her distractions, her cries against
the dying of the light. 

“Night night. Love you too. See you in the morning.”
She tells me, and I close her door, 
shutting those words in her room,
until they are released the next day,
when she opens up her door and says
"good morning". 

07/29/2021
M. L. Michael

About…

This is not the poem I set out to write.. but I tucked my daughter in and was taken a different direction.When we said that to each other it just hit different this time. I was already in poetry mode. Will we see each other in the morning? I hope so.
Good night everyone.See you in the morning.

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…

what it is to dance around the fire

let’s dance around this fire,
let’s pretend like we don’t know what’s going on,
and let’s dance like natives worshiping their elemental god.
let’s dance closer, and closer, to this fire,
let’s pretend like we forgot the sting of flame,
and let’s get closer to the heat we want to remember. […]

what it is to dance around the fire

let’s dance around this fire,
let’s pretend like we don’t know what’s going on,
and let’s dance like natives worshiping their elemental god.
let’s dance closer, and closer, to this fire,
let’s pretend like we forgot the sting of flame,
and let’s get closer to the heat we want to remember.

…you dance like you afraid,
like somewhere, someone, is watching, judging,
like your every liberated move is an act of blasphemy. 
instead, dance like you are emboldened,
like right now, right here, you’re here, (much more than) merely being,
and like the only eyes on you that matter,
are these that frame you dancing, simply because 
you’re happy to be right here, (no less than) wondrously living.

this fire, this moment, is frozen in time
and melting in space, 
before we can barely blink, ashes will replace embers,
our imitation memories will replace our tangible joys.
so for right now, (and for the only now that matters,)
let’s do our best not to blink as much,
and let’s dance, let’s dance like the 
world around us is crumbling down,
(…because it is…)
and that the only thing that can save us,
is our passion that burns brighter, 
the closer, and closer, we dance around the fire. 

1.2.14
M. L. Michael

About…

what barely remains

in her wake,

in her ether left,
she leaves spaces
for a lingering sigh
in that cold remain.
she leaves remnants
for a longing goodbye
in that Hollywood rain. […]

in her wake,
in her ether left,
she leaves spaces
for a lingering sigh
in that cold remain.
she leaves remnants
for a longing goodbye
in that Hollywood rain.

trailing behind her,
and beyond her,
as a wistful scent,
as a wishful hope,
as a whispered what,
is an impression of an ideal,
a glimpse through a rose window,
a hint at an ache against the reel.

with one breath
you can draw her back in,
you can draw her back into your mind,
into your heart as a work of passioned art.
with one more breath
you can summon her spirit,
you can summon her spirit as a sensation
of a dart remembered through the heart.

with another, with another breath,
she starts to slip further away
like love-me/love-me-not petals caught in the air.
with another, with another breath,
she dances further from your fingertips,
like that balloon you won (and then lost)
at the county fair.

and with one more breath,
her vividness is nearly vapored.
and with one more breath,
she leaves you wanting
much more than her perfumed essence. 

1.1.2014
M. L. Michael

About…

little cosmic wonder

be ever diligent, little cosmic wonder.
even though you bed in darkness,

you possess the ability to dream tapestries

of light and sound in the realm of your mind.
be ever vigilant, little cosmic wonder,
for when the dust has time to rest,
when crickets cease their serenading,[…] 

little cosmic wonder

be ever diligent, little cosmic wonder. 
even though you bed in darkness, 
you possess the ability to dream tapestries 
of light and sound in the realm of your mind.
be ever vigilant, little cosmic wonder,
for when the dust has time to rest,
when crickets cease their serenading, 
that is when you are most vulnerable 
for introspection igniting self destruction.
do not buckle under that weight.
remember, at this moment,
at always *this* moment,
you can dream.

 
11-10-12
M. L. Michael

About…

6 months later…

You know something is wrong when the pain medicine begins to take on weight in your palm.
When despite the screech of ache and ache, up your spine, through your mind, you find yourself hesitating at the sight of this medicine – your pain medication, your discomfort dispeller, this neural novocain, this sunday solicitor. […]

You know something is wrong when the pain medicine begins to take on weight in your palm. 
When despite the screech of ache and ache, up your spine, through your mind, you find yourself hesitating at the sight of this medicine – your pain medication, your discomfort dispeller, this neural novocain, this sunday solicitor.
You eye the pills with a fluctuating mix of shame and acceptance. You juggle them around to buy some bullshit time before you concede to a relative truth and toss them down.
Your gut is uneasy. Not just because this synthetic opium is a molotov-cocktail thrown at a combustible problem, but because this bottle of pills that you have refilled every month is a mere hop, a skip, a jump away from poorly lit alleyways with guttered dreams and phantom candles flickering out.
You’re sick at the sight and you don’t need a mirror to see what’s under your nose; the stench of desperation gives it away every time you find yourself in a panic, because the ache is rising, unchecked, demanding, and your finding yourself lost without your pain medicine, without that be all, end all, answer all.
That’s where the line between what you will do to stop the rising wave of discomfort, and what you wont do to raise a barrier of numbness, is easily blurred into insignificance – just like scratching a line in the sand, you make a distinction, knowing the coming wave will wipe it away.
You no longer know who calls the shots. You are almost certain it is no longer yourself, but a question remains, a scenario, a picture in your mind, the all encompassing ache controlling your strings, guiding your hands to the pills, the pills controlling the ache’s strings, controlling you, controlling it, and on and on, a programmer’s loop into oblivion.
You find yourself in the absurd play of one being control—one being consoled by doctors convincing you that you are not an addict.
Everything is legit, the stacks of reports from past surgeries and prior hospitalizations are all reasons for taking their junk. You are not like the yucks on the streets, because they don’t have a reason like you, they don’t have an excuse that’s been documented, they’ve never been diagnosed, and if they have, they certainly aren’t under any medical help, not anymore…
For years you argue with them like a kid trying to grasp a simple truth against an adult’s abstractions. You fight even as you wonder why. You fight because you instinctively know that is who you are, what you do. You fight them, you fight the medicine, because you owe it all to the fight. Life, in one sweeping motion, is a fight to survive. Survival is a chance to love. And a chance to love is a chance to be free.
The pills they give you are nothing more than medicinal apathetics –extended release pacifiers. The ‘sweet release’ from the ache that you so desperately seek is more like the ‘letting go’ of all that’s cherished and known. You know you are stronger than waving a white flag and then swallowing it down. Your very life is a monument to countless battles won. Times you will never know, times you tried to forget, times you continue to brag about. You owe your all to the fight, to the push, that persistent, so close to nagging, drive that whispers, keep on keeping on, don’t stop driving you tenacious fool, burn like the furious flame that gives your spirit warmth.
You know something is wrong. Now fight, now right that wrong.  
 
-10-11-12-
-m.m-

About…

little embers

It began with a little ember
I caught off a spark
from the filament of your iris,
that sea, that web,
that portal you called a stargate.[…]

little embers

It began with a little ember
I caught off a spark 
from the filament of your iris,
that sea, that web,
that portal you called a stargate.

…

From your feet I gathered kindle,
so that ember could have a nest.
I placed it in my left breast pocket,
where it rested, where it rooted,
where it became a phoenix’s egg. 

…

And on the day of your goodbye,
I reached for that weight in my pocket,
I laid it at the place you once stood,
at the point of our collision, at the point of our cohesion, 
I followed your instructions and formed a pyre. 

…

With your light that never left me,
I lit the first, the best, gift you ever gave to me,
and remembering your present with reverent eyes, 
I saw a flame rise. I saw a phoenix stoked.
I saw little embers break for the stars.



-08.14.12-
M. L. Michael

About…

the woods

we did not wander into the woods
because there was nothing to fear.
we did not create our own path
because no one offered their own.

we entered the woods, alone, together,
because shadows weakened by our number.
we went into the woods, uncertain of certainty,
because the allure of understanding
never stopped growing at our hiking feet. […]

the woods

we did not wander into the woods
because there was nothing to fear.
we did not create our own path
because no one offered their own.

we entered the woods, alone, together,
because shadows weakened by our number. 
we went into the woods, uncertain of certainty,
because the allure of understanding
never stopped growing at our hiking feet.

we did not sneak into these woods
because our forefathers forbid it.
we did not venture into the unknown
because what we knew was unfulfilling. 

we worked through the woods,
individually, hand in hand, 
because strength is created, and strength is lent.
we never gave up in the woods,
because our story wants for a good ending.


-07-31-12- 
M. L. Michael

About…

As i grow older…

As I grow older, I need my glasses,

so I can marvel at the pinpoints of millennia on the blue-black sky,
and recognize the glimmers of galaxies in a stranger’s eyes.
so I can understand the reasons of nature on the evolutionary sly,
and admire the poignancy of forever in the sunset’s goodbyes.

As I grow older, I need my glasses in order to see why.

As I grow older, I need my glasses,

so I can marvel at the pinpoints of millennia on the blue-black sky,
and recognize the glimmers of galaxies in a stranger's eyes.
so I can understand the reasons of nature on the evolutionary sly,
and admire the poignancy of forever in the sunset's goodbyes.

As I grow older, I need my glasses in order to see why.

-07-23-12-
M. L. Michael

About…