The Leveler
by Michael R. Burch
The nature of Nature
is bitter survival
from Winter’s bleak fury
till Spring’s brief revival.
The weak implore Fate;
bold men ravish, dishevel her . . .
till both are cut down
by mere ticks of the Leveler.
Published by The Lyric, Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly and The Aurorean. Keywords/Tags: nature, survival, bitter, winter, spring, seasons, fate, weak, bold, universe, time, levels, leveler, red in tooth and claw, harsh, hardship
DISARRAY
Did I ever say that inside my eye;
That I’m not feeling well no not at all;
Behind my mind I see swirling colors flowing
Floating projectiles of reds, oranges, and grays glowing;
Which in no way should be behave, streams of Disarray;
Just a cluttered mess jumble, muddled got me upset;
So untidy this rendition blurs confusion condition, hey!
I’m disordered throw into dishevel mess;;
Such a untidy yet colorful blow groceries;
Upchuck heave spewing tango with the toilet;
This I commit as I vomit so surreal;
Sickly am I for in the archway of my brain yuk;
My mind preys way spray airway convey;
hearsay downplay Floating projectiles of reds, oranges, and grays;
Did I ever say...
That inside my eye my head and mouth are…Disarray
11/12/19
Disarray Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Stuck under the mango tree where you dumped me
I fret, fret, fret, fret and fret
Wondering why you disfigured my peace with glee
When happiness for you and I so much easier to target and get
Than to give me the cold shoulder treatment
On me you inflicted
As though this indictment
Sorrow from your soft centre deflected
When far better for you and I to iron out
Tiff and beef
You feel in your mind floated the doubt and gout
Shoving our love to the rim of a cliff
From which you and I might not recover
Once we plunged into the ether of the unknown
Meaning somehow to discover
The path to the perfect peace we’ve blown, torn and known
Throughout the years we’ve travelled
Through thick and thin
Although disheveled we marveled and swiveled
Through mean and din
Until at long last our wedding bells rang
To our parents’ delight
Bang, clang and slang
Diffusing through nights of boundless bliss and light
Which you and I ought to save
Despite loud clouds that on our horizon gather
To divert and hurt our salvation stave and wave
As we surge forward with determination to a bright future together.
Falling for her was like summer rain,
First drizzle, then hurricane;
With thunders, with lightning, heavy and fast,
Meant to dishevel, but never to last.
Being with her was an autumn fire,
Vibrant and quiet, a bright red desire.
For she was fresh coffee brewed in the morning,
And you were vodka down her throat burning.
She was Sundays sleeping in with your T-shirt on,
She was nights spent late, talking ‘till dawn,
But you were bare feet on cold ground,
An old toy in a box of lost and found.
Falling out of love with her
Was made of details in a blur.
A door slammed, a few regrets,
Late nights buried in cigarettes,
Voices breaking, ‘could have been’s,
Driving off roads made of dreams.
Her, a wild tale without age,
You, who loved her page by page.
Up Sleeve of Trump
Feel sorry for Trump but by him am annoyed
Really think that the poor guy is psychzoid
And at the same time has become robotic
In all that he says that seems so neurotic.
Wants to build wall on our Southern border
To separate him from his personality disorder
Each time we hear him us he does dishevel
Completely destroying our comfort level.
What did bother me and by was irritated
How handicapped reporter he imitated
He is loved by supporters who are loons
Have intelligence level of bunch of baboons.
Can you imagine Trump President being
With his horrendous hair have to be seeing
And all of our attention always demanding
Thinking he is gorgeous and grandstanding.
Trump's so small hand and each short finger
Fear of it on button surely still does linger
While General's are normal he is naïve
Wonder what else he has up his sleeve.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Beauty beheld by a devil
Would fury and lust incite
Taunting him to revel
At things lovely and bright
And only annoy and dishevel
The beast like a collar too tight.
Ugliness happened upon,
Say, a carcass that lay in the road,
By a being much wiser prompts parallels drawn
Between dead dog incisor and silver and gold
For to only a saint would it ever dawn
On the saint as a thing to behold.
Far be it for us to decide
If the tendency, blessing or bane,
Gives the zealot convenient places to hide
Like a judge too lenient on those who bring pain
Or the serial killer a lovable side
Excused for his natural drive to disdain
Or the servant, content to serve,
Feeling blessed for being alive
While the privileged scoff as they take an hors d'oeuvre
As he earns just enough for his child to survive
And never once thinks of the nerve
Of his master, blinded by drive.
If neither side can be dissuaded
To yield this same elective,
Their perusal, predicated
By stubborn refusal to wax objective,
Leave both cherished and hated
Victims of perspective.
Today I accomplished after a sustained effort
I wanted to set my mind free of all its dirt
I got rid of all, that's redundant
The baggage of experience that's abundant
Anger, hate, envy and jealousy
Myths, confusion, illusion and fallacy
Laxity, mess, incoherence and insanity
Chaos, clutter, dishevel and obscurity
Dogmas, tenets, maxims and rules
Traditions and conventions that the present ridicules
Desire, ambition, hunger and greed
I removed all that I didn't need
Only to realise now, there ain't left anything
My anxiety to set it free meant there's nothing.
The gaze of your serpent eyes the appealing of sneaky smiles.
The nectar of rosy lips the touch of your healing hands,
The chic in your stroll the whiff of wear,
The wobble of lions the bloom of your torso,
The pride in your parade,
Golden wreath of your gullet and these rings in fat fingers,
The pricey pendant of your ear the bangles of arm and their clink,
The evening of your dishevel the dancing of your braid,
The melody in speech and the worry in your ask,
He shall be fluky--whoever will wed!
I imagine for me the not-on, and sigh!
A wavy body that tarts up, a dialect that is murmur, a go-with that is eternal, a walk that is heavenly, a touch that is wine, a mock that is loveful, an escape that is cruel, a feeling that is real, a vow that is sincere!
Well! Believe the pathetic liars!
Or listen to the stylish scoundrel—
Whose speech’s so harmonious
And Ah! Tone as wine!
Leave your long braid dance
As the charmer’s snake,
Or dishevel fly
As in the ancient paintings the flying fairies…
Or Claw or Bun or Knot
Or loop as the sparrows’ nest
Or reverse as the nomadic maids.
Well! Wear on the thick oily thighs tight trousers
As the white women in west
Wear high heals, and on roadsides Cat-walk.
Or dress as a Japanese Girl gymnast
Or the ancient Greek women wrestlers slapping their big hips.
And or let your big bosom bulge
Or with breeze as ripe melons shake
And then! Tell the tired traveler, am I fine!
But be my love and be only mine!
As all dear admire the unchanging pine!
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