Best Dullards Poems

on my-
diaphanous    gossamer filmy cloud-
sumptuous I float woebegone

flowers   far   and below

and bluebirds come
fluttering in the azure sky
twittering and its
beautiful

gossamer filmy cloud-sumptuous

the gobbledygooks with their nonsense
far   and below
and bluebirds come drifting

from the garden and forest they fly
to
my...

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i can never tell you how displeased readers 
  
   are by that position    the singular 

moment when nothing makes any sense

to them at all  but only to a few brilliant pebbles

that soar across the night canvas unknown
 to 
the dullards of academia
  it...

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There is no denying the power of love.
It is a splendid teacher
Quite adept at instructing us
In ways that completely alter our character,
And telling us how to be what we never were,
Or never even imagined we could ever be.
In certain individuals
Its transformations are frequently nothing short...

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These are my modern English translations of sonnets by the French poet Stephane Mallarme.

The Tomb of Edgar Poe
by Stéphane Mallarmé
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Transformed into himself by Death, at last,
the Bard unsheathed his Art’s recondite blade
to duel with dullards, blind & undismayed,
who’d never heard...

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far and below   you will find-
my favorite poem   written in 
free verse    it is not just the theme

but the style of     eecummings
            ...

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“Go west young man”, the neighbors said; but they wisely stayed at home.
From pianoforte to pianoforte, saloon to saloon, town to town I roam.
Surrounded by Phillistines, “soiled doves”, cowpokes, and dullards,
Gamblers, dealers, dance hall girls, and other assorted drunkards.
If a fellow’s feeling generous, he might...

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1

The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud
     as he beats of humanity wrapped in a shroud.

Well he beats of the rape and the killing of war
     and the mind mangling sorrow we blithely ignore
          and he beats of combatants who’re dying deceived
               while the merchants...

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Like an ugly lion I roared
Like a cute baby I smiled
Tried to scare Zillions,
Tried to fool dullards.
But everywhere I'd always carried sweet cute face
But my smile was so fake could match Chinese lace 

I roared but all said "ncoow.. sweet little thing"
I went home to...

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Who are these lug nuts?
Who are these featherweights?
Who are these slum bums?
Who are these cretins?
Who are these dimwits?
Who are these bird brains?
Who are these crumb critters?
Who are these sad sacks?
Who are these dullards?
Who are these rum raisins?
Who are these nincompoops?
Who are these louts?
Who are these...

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White doves sit on our window sill
One ponders peace, eternal will
Countless dreams does it now fulfill
Cradled in hope's hands, not to spill

Dullards seek weak concepts to kill
Artists think up ideas that thrill
Extra effort helps climb the hill
Sometimes fail, not for lack of skill
To taste again...

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***A childhood experience where I
recall my friends and I playing  in
the rain, but we became sad when
the rain lifted***

The rain patterned dull, side the sill
  to remind the chill to rise 'neath
  the leaves;
  to station the birds in their nests...

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Enough Already!

You’re dawn’s ghost of a chance each new day can find meaning,
dusk’s thanks to creation, for gifts we’ve received.
You paint rhythm on roadblocks blank minds won’t let faze them,
revealing new words to lift poets from daze.
You’re fresh insights rhyme brings to the stupor of...

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Moist cocoon, most horrid home
What are these paintings for?
To fill, with glee, a shutters frame?
Or anchor awkward eye?
Those thick black strokes, do they pull upon,
All oceans breaking bread?
Or map out planets, which swivel around
A strolling dullards head?

Infra dig, moist cocoon
I’m burning down this dream
Mongo rides...

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We the People, 


We were never consulted,
 invited or agreed to the the 1999 constitution 
never resolved to live together as drafted by the Military lies  in the document, 
Invisible, indissoluble or
 the sovereignty claimed were rhetoric of falsehood,
some crooked criminals who should be...

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A Nation, wearied, sapped traumatized.
This vast exotic land, fringed by lush emerald jungles 
A spark rising from the west, once looked upon by all,
A giant? 
No, faded glory. 
Vistas of burning star and torrential rivers  
Once revered, now a derelict of crumbled epitaph ...

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