Best Treatises Poems

Zero.
By which nothing is divided.
No zero
no negative
no opposite
no hope
no Adam, no apple, no marriage, no morning.
No mirror
no knowledge
no God, no soul, no ear lobe, no Iliad, no Odyssey.
No universe
no black hole
no zodiac
no hero
no mission, no omission, no fission, no fusion.
No beanstalk
no tractor
no yellow
no 7:30, no...

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Round about nineteen 1971-2, yours truly bid adieu 
to Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School 
   (situated at crossroads – then beau
colic rural routes of Evansburg Road and Ridge Pike), where nary a clue
prevails today of such pristine farm country due
to undergo radical urbanization...

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K373 and K374 of the THIRUKKURAL: Translated with Commentary

The poet's name, THIRUVALLUVAR [Thiru = Sacred and Valluvar = the name of the priesthood caste of the « Pariah » (whom Mahatma Gandhi prefered to call "Harijans", "the children of God"), is very probably a misnomer....

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And shake off the mantric spells ringing in your conditioned minds
            but remember and preserve the great sanskrit treatises
            those that refined aesthetics...

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Yuletide pageants vis a vis merry go round revisited

healthy progeny regaled being alive
analogous to children ecstatic twenty-five
on December exhaling joie de vivre at dive 
in into neat stack of wrapped gifts, when...
what! out of thin air more arrive.

Panoply of mystical elements of holly day house...

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Man has mused over life’s origin for ages.
The thoughts and treatises of the sages,
filling tall tomes tallying thousands of pages,
tell of evolution in stages over millions of ages.

Life, some say was sparked by lightning arcs.
Amino acids were formed by the electric sparks.
These amino acids served...

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Arriving from unknown somewhere
He set up clinic in the market square
Declared he could cure any disease
Using herbal drugs of plants and trees
Townsfolk being credulous
Soon to his shop began to rush
Diabetics, rheumatics, asthmatics flooded
None over his degree brooded
A few weeks later, afloat was this rumor
He cures...

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Various Heresies 3

Breakings
by Michael R. Burch

I did it out of pity.
I did it out of love.
I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove.

But gods without compassion
ordained: Frail things must break!
Now what can I do for her shattered psyche's sake?

I did...

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Various Heresies 6

Altared Spots
by Michael R. Burch

The mother leopard buries her cub,
then cries three nights for his bones to rise
clad in new flesh, to celebrate the sunrise.

Good mother leopard, pensive thought
and fiercest love’s wild insurrection
yield no certainty of a resurrection.

Man’s tried them both, has added...

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such heretics pitched headlong 
into fiendish frothing furnace
forcing obeisance toward primitive popular 
identified, honored, glorified father figure
expressing devotion re: 
decking the halls of the mountain king,

whence boughs of Juniper sprigs contriving wreaths
sanctifying twisted brambles via springling angel dust
(actually cremated remains of malefactors 
stripped of habiliments)...

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This generic creek king mortal mwm 
   (who generally river ears the bay sea gully feels ire ate 
asper propensity plundering positive human qualities 
   tested to the max), bait
ting virtue with rapacious opprobrious 
   malicious lugubriousness, and hatred...

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No man knows the exact day or hour
But charlatans continually preach of an Armageddon stour
Over fallow fields they their abrasive treatises scour
Softening the hard, unyielding ground as a tidy, careful plower
With visions of doomsday they fertile hearts do shower     
Their seeds annually spring up as...

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Far away on distant horizons, lies the world that we want to see,
It is true that we are blessed, but do you think we are truly free?
Those who have fought and died, would certainly hope that's true,
the past has seen masters and slaves, surely it's...

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Only A Poet Would Understand
Only A Writer Will Know…
Why I Would Feel This Disheartened and
Why I Can’t Shake Writer’s Woe… 

… I Lost 200 Poems or More
Tho’ The Exact Count Doesn’t Matter
Most of What I’d Written Before
… is  no  longer  gathered

A Circumstantial...

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Let us not be slaves
to cycles and numbers,
stars are infinite we know...

Like, travel a sea

despite our direction

on their own waves come
and go, schools of little fishy
on and on flow -- 

And, if tomorrow
there was no man, burned
by his own hot iron, branding will
of his ill...

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