To my complacent Ms. Crane
I am at odds my love, your comely visage has my heart rend. I struggle somewhere betwixt carnality and a fervent want of your attention. Oh! Ms. Crane, I do so labor for your love. The muse runs foolhardy across every page, and on stage I act the jester just to catch a glimpse of that sweet Southern smile. I do so aspire to taste the nectar of your kiss. All this time apart has my heart yearning, even imploring your touch. I beseech your name to stop the tribulation, to ease the travailing of my heart. My belle I don't say these things in comfort, I adamantly long for a union of our souls, and a harmony played on our heartstrings. As God is my witness, love is our destination, however our journey begins with us. I query of your heart oh misfortuned women, what perplexes your heart? What clutters your mind's thoughts? Is it I? My only desire is your happiness. I too, see happiness as my endeavor. So this leaves us at a crossroad. Shall we be a blessed union, or do we wander trodden thoroughfare?
Preemptively yours
Michael
2,000 years ago
a Sage I know
wrote this about ‘change:’
Try out something new
you’ll start a war
with those who prefer things
~ the way they were ‘before’
Take me back to 2003
the world in front of me
at the age of just 18
naive exploratory
athletic grungy
high or grumpy
girlfriend hunting
drink drug slumping
fresh faced and firm
breezy absent concern
working out for the burn
rewarding spliffs in return
Hangover..... what's that?
get smashed, get back,
no course, no track
no thoughts, no facts
Limp Bizkit Linkin Park
Who Let The Dogs Out our bark
Eminem topped the chart
subwoofers rocked the cars
3 Lions on my shirt
penalty shoot out hurt
Red Rose on my shirt
England beat the Earth
2000 hid the beacon
01 my sport was peaking
02 girls heavy breathing
03 now lets repeat it
Class of 2002,
this year is at it's end.
Juniors we will be next year,
while keeping our Sophomore friends.
Although I will be leaving soon,
I take a part of this school with me,
Knowing next year will be a newer place,
where you'll no longer be.
I take each memory shared by us,
the good, the bad, just them all.
Through each day I'll think of you,
our bonds standing me up tall.
We'll think our time is getting near,
we'll be so happy and proud.
But when the time is actually here,
tears will fall in a cloud.
No matter where I go,
I'll be with all of you.
As you'll be a class of Seniors one day,
So will I, just with someone new.
Dedicated to: Roane County High School, Class of "2002"
Sucks I had to move away.
2000 friends on your Facebook profile
something is missing from your life
a hole within empty for miles
something nice you’d really like
social approval keeps you cool
a mountain of people met once
stalkers and perverse fools
10 friends the rest punks
My hands count those who matter the most
your friend list keeps getting fatter you boast
Invite them all around for a Sunday roast
show em love as their Sunday host
You don’t care about these people
and they don’t care about you
you’re needy and easy to ridicule
1 friend for me will do
Let Christmas 2000, Be Jesus
Written : by Tom Wright
Through eyes of faith,
once more, I revisit the manger scene,
recalling His virgin birth.
Reminiscing of His death and resurrection,
and miracles once performed
as He bode with man on earth.
Through eyes of faith,
I envision His crown and touch the thorns
that dug into His brow.
I listen to the hammer's thudding blows
as it drove each spike,
as were it happening now.
Through eyes of faith,
I endeavor to feel the atmosphere
that encompassed the place He lay.
Else how could I believe
that stone would roll,
and from His tomb He'd rise that day.
Through eyes of faith,
In much despair, I believed one day;
that He alone, had power to save my soul.
That from things which had me bound
I'd be released, and body healed,
and through His name be whole.
So, with childlike faith,
please join us, this Millennium Year,
in letting thoughts of Jesus' birth and life abide in us.
Setting our thoughts on His life's theme,
giving thanks and praise,
for God's largess to mankind--
Jesus.
IN DECEMBER 2000 WE SAID I DO
In the haze , of a dimly lit dance floor.
Swayed a couple who were madly in love,
They had met at a wedding,
Knew the way they were heading,
But fate had in mind another way,
Certainly not a quick role in the hay!
They dated sometime in the seventies,
Lost touch in the eighties,
And most of the nineties,
During this time each had a son,
For which they thanked God a ton.
His marriage had landed on the rocks,
And hers because she thought out of the box,
Both were divorced,
However,
Their love was about to be reinforced.
At the turn of the 21st century,
Bumped into each and spent a memory,
Charged day,
They rushed off to say I do, and excitedly
Headed for a bundle of hay!
Blinded Nation's people were shouting:
crucify him, "he said, he is the son of God".
His blood on us and our children.
Cross smeared with his blood,
condemned, through nails
joined with cluster of malefactors.
2000 years of infatuation,
without acknowledgement of guilt,
there is no pardon and no recompensation.
Some were converting individually,
Samaritans, Saracens, Zealots:
Chesterton, Pascal, Stein, Brandstaetter...
Others have been scoffing.
Punishment will rotate as the wheel,
until Covenant will be fulfilled.
Windhoek, 2000
Nabucodonosor! thou shouldst be living at this epoch:
Namibia hath desire of thee: she is a quagmire
Of quiet rainwaters: slab, blade, and cage,
Inglenook, the courageous fortune of manor and retreat,
Have sacrificed their primeval culture talent.
But those who came before us will teach us.
They will teach us from the wisdom of former generations.
When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.
But looking back we do not find what we left behind.
Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real
Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by
Until all our emphasis befits
The creatures we used to be,
The gaffes we made in our lifetime.
Oh, if only we could see
What we are now that we were then?
May memory restore again and again
The tiniest tint of the minutest era:
Past is the school in which we learn,
Antiquity is the intensity in which we burn.
There's a realm of astuteness in our previous.
Our souls are lost and tossed like a ship unruddered in a shoreless sea.
Our lifecycle is a flair, a gift that only we can give.
Why waste something so precious.
Have you ever eaten something 2000 years old
Believe it, honey never goes bad we're told
In Egyptian tombs
Found jars and assumed
Were uneatable but discovered the yummy unfold
Its 2017 and my odyssey is far from begun.
Nearly ending every yearlings dwindling
Found above ground without Mona Lisa's lungs.
Without air is mortality.
Anything else is air mortality.
Painted on a picture is a mural on a bar stool room wall. Blank faces stare beneath the counter.
As I drink myself under the taker.
Only to arise with the power of ten thousand men—Truth be told, that’s about less than ten thousand women, infant and children.
Elderly has forgotten and our honest approach takes a step forward.
How is unthinkable. Why is unimaginable. Anger is intolerable garble and forgotten is an ancient power that is truly god-like...forgotten
1-20-2017
…undeniably tattered and shredded
my itinerary compromised by being
considered as prey and being
expected as a masochistic self-flagellator
losing revenue to the big gun’s atrocious tillage of the mind’s phosphorescence
I bagged the boy’s brigade for being bridges
and then being able to be
nearly my own cerebracy and again
appreciating my own celibacy …
in a rational loss of solicitude for
those obliquely using or anti
I built ramparts against the banality
of the ill-advised and the
ephemeral lacy streak of zig-zaggers
and water-diviners
and lost the locality so as to bequeath my
solid grade before I pop off into
the space of the grey morning light
Now don’t get overstrung
2000 meter trial
stressing all day
instead of focusing
in class I begin to pray
plugged into my music
I find that one song to play
just to get into my zone
sitting in the corner silently
in class as I am not known
My life is taken over by 4 digits
all the anxiety
why I ask
it is the feeling and thought
that reminds me all the pain
I'm about to face
its time to fly and die
at the end I fall and cry
that's it perfect mental strength
pain is bliss, today I taste blood
tomorrow I smell victory
for I do it with aggression
with all the insanity
as there will be no sign
of humanity left in me
with profanity
The people inthe world are behaving like insects
they all 7 billion of them want more
they all use the insectnet
they all think sex is the greatest thing
the beatles buddy holly and the crickets adam and the ants
needless to say they are the most successful species on earth
Eeney meany is what I will say
Which God shall I pray to today
It all depends on how I fee
And which one gives the better deal..
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