whimsy – Page 3 – Every Breath Poetic

OMG, A SONNET? WTF!

lookat me, the 21st century man,
I can LOL @ your e-mail,
and RE: as fast as my Ethernet can
let me – sign off w/ a TTYL. […]

OMG, A SONNET? WTF! 


lookat me, the 21st century man,
I can LOL @ your e-mail,
and RE: as fast as my Ethernet can
let me – sign off w/ a TTYL.

lookat me, TXT’ing while driving,
IM’ing a pic I shot with my razor,
of some dumb schmuck trying
to save the world in his favor.

lookat me, at my geektastic supreme,
fragging n00bs in my sleep,
where I’m all FTW in this virtual dream,
and I’m striving to be teh uber l33t.

lookat me, the 21st century snob,
looking for the meaning of life on somebody else’s blog.

 
M. L. Michael 
05-04-08

About…

an ode to the flavor of the moment

My god, I hate to sound cliché
but, good god, you made my heart swoon
you made my legs sway.
I can easily imagine you a splendiferous stone sculpture,
with all the kinds of beauty man could ever hope to capture,
And I can easily see you as some holy aura from above,
A soul to spread their wings – like wide as lovely love.[…]

An Ode to the Flavor of the Moment


My god, I hate to sound cliché
but, good god, you made my heart swoon
you made my legs sway.
I can easily imagine you a splendiferous stone sculpture,
with all the kinds of beauty man could ever hope to capture,
And I can easily see you as some holy aura from above,
A soul to spread their wings - like wide as lovely love.

And all you did was cross my vision,
and everhence I’ve been smitten,
and eversince I have written,
about you my Juliet, about you my Helen,
you my chariot, 
you my guide to the here-in-now heaven.

Darling don’t you know you are this treasure I chanced across: unique –
You’re the vision my eyes spied to find a radiance of brilliance: mystique.  
When all you did was cross my vision,
and inspired in me a sweeter kind of livin’,
Where I’m all whirly-dizzied trying to shake you from my head,
Until, hey, wait, lookee there,
here comes the next flavor ready to take your stead.

2/17/08
M. L Michael

About…

a daughter of the 9

yeah she is a daughter of the 9,
a muse of many – and hopefully mine,
a body that moves with an intensity like fire,
one that inspires within me such a long desire,
to grab her around by the waist-
and throw ourselves around – posthaste.[…]

a daughter of the 9 

yeah she is a daughter of the 9,
a muse of many – and hopefully mine,
a body that moves with an intensity like fire,
one that inspires within me such a long desire,
to grab her around by the waist-
and throw ourselves around - posthaste.
 
yeah she is a daughter of the 9,
a muse of many - and hopefully mine,
the way she enthuses with her purest voice,
and instills within me a spirit to totally rejoice,
'cuz in her I've found a sound to stir my soul, 
in her I've found a sound that adds to my whole.
 
yeah she is a daughter of the 9,
a muse of many – and hopefully mine,
a lover of the word,  and a dreamer of the 'morrow,
in the way that she casts her light against my sorrow,
and here I have someone that speaks my language,
here I have someone to share some of this bondage.
 
yeah she is a daughter of the 9,
a muse of many – and hopefully mine,
she's the writer, the singer, or the dancer, 
she’s the mover, the shaker, the speaker; she’s the enhancer.
yeah a daughter of the 9 is one I want in my life,
the one to back me up through the rest of life's strife.   
 
 -2-3-08-
M. L. Michael

About…

All i’m sayin…

hey you gorgeous girl,
why are you holdin’ your head and cryin’?,
don’t you know the words of the scoldin’
come from the ones that are lyin’?

so what – they talk shit on myspace,
they’re just wanting to sling dirt in your face.[…]

All I’m Sayin… 
(an equation)

hey you gorgeous girl, 
why are you holdin’ your head and cryin’?,
don’t you know the words of the scoldin’
come from the ones that are lyin’?

so what – they talk shit on myspace,
they’re just wanting to sling dirt in your face.
don’t you know they forgot their place-
where “judge not...” has fallen from commonplace.

+

hey you beautiful boy,
why are you in the shadows all alone,
don’t you fret over their disapproving tone-
let your resilience show how much you’ve grown.

so what they shot you down for that suave superstar,
that dream with the threads and that cherry car,
don’t let them make you forget who you are,
The one who will find their self and then go far.

=

hey you gorgeous girl, you beautiful boy,
stop your trippin’, when it comes to your peers an’,
their constant love of flippin’,
all over what they think you are missin’.

Cuz’ you’re only worth your weight in happiness-
And if you accept life for all its harshness,
You might find a deeper richness-
In the wonderness of your rareness.

1/24/08
M. L.  Michael

About…

Praise for the fool

Everyone sees the Fool-
who rips and raves and thrives off the moment,
never giving a flip, as if the flip could ever give back,
and with his long life of laughter, all he cares is to be a jester,
that kindest clown of forever. […]

Praise for the Fool

Everyone sees the Fool-
who rips and raves and thrives off the moment,
never giving a flip, as if the flip could ever give back,
and with his long life of laughter, all he cares is to be a jester, 
that kindest clown of forever. 

Everyone loves the Fool-
because he’s free, and when he trips, he smiles
and tells a joke before he impacts with reality,
no matter, his reality is always Zero, a kind of everywhere zone,
where the potential of Zero is infinitely expressed yet always unknown. 

Everyone hates the Fool-
that sucker son, who defies One
with a tongue in cheek, raspberry critique, 
while he dances the klutz’s dance to a different beat, 
which our feet find rather maddeningly incomplete.

Everyone needs the Fool-
for his non.sense approach, 
which one’s.sense sees as a Wonderland defense, 
because we’re all falling down the same rabbit burrow,
so on the way down let’s laugh good and thorough. 

1/3/08
M. L. Michael

About…

burn a little burn

burn a little burn,
you tiny dancer of the flame.
groove a little groove,
and dance away all of your pain.
decry your little cry,
and signal the gods of the sky.
exclaim your little claim,
and hope to understand why.

burn a little burn, 
you tiny dancer of the flame.
groove a little groove,
and dance away all of your pain.
decry your little cry,
and signal the gods of the sky.
exclaim your little claim,
and hope to understand why.

8/22/06
M. L. Michael

About…

lunch with natasha (wouldn’t it be)

Wouldn’t it be great,
if our hearts came equipped with valves

installed outside of our chests
for easy access to restriction and flow?

Wouldn’t it be grand,
if when we fell too hard in love
we could argue those valves shut
and give our head some time to think?[…]

Lunch with Natasha (wouldn’t it be)

Wouldn’t it be great,
if our hearts came equipped with valves 
installed outside of our chests
for easy access to restriction and flow?

Wouldn’t it be grand,
if when we fell too hard in love
we could argue those valves shut
and give our head some time to think?

Wouldn’t it be something,
if these valves were easily accessible 
and we could persuade them open
whenever we are lost and keyless?

Wouldn’t it be, wouldn’t it be,
a great, grand, something
if such a reality were true?
Wouldn’t it be, wouldn’t it be,
a great, grand, fake.

M. L. Michael 
01-28-06

About…

tumbleweed

Contemplative is how I roll…
Down this hill-gathering-speed
And losing perception,
Until all I see, is me, is me, is me.

With my head tucked in,
Listening to my anxious heart.[…]

tumbleweed 

Contemplative is how I roll…
Down this hill-gathering-speed
And losing perception,
Until all I see, is me, is me, is me. 
With my head tucked in, 
Listening to my anxious heart.
…and it’s not because I’m
Dizzy and forgetful,
That my ignorance is something
Glaring.
But a rolling stone gathers no moss-
Or so I’m told-
Because bounding down this hillside 
It’s hard to gather anything
At all.

M. L. Michael 
Oct-2005

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