Long Conscience Poems

The Amistad Mutiny

Slavery, a dirty word no matter how it’s pronounced:
Abducted and herded to the slave fortress of Lomboko1 for trade.
To be tossed in chains below deck on the Portuguese ship Tecora,2
Sailing the Atlantic Middle...

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I.
He was patient very-very
with child's tenderness in eyes
yellow winged angel's unwary,
He was living quiet in skies.
Without disputes, without roughness, 
without want to weep and moan,
He was dreaming among heartless
building cloud castles alone.
He was waking up...

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“Frequency” 

we are separated 
from the others
by a thin membrane

electromagnetic

we are receptors
unignited ununited
only tuned into our own

frequency

existing to be lit
the fuses touching
reaching delicately 

that which we do 
and do not see, 
believe

answers embedded
in tablets read...

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Juvenilia: Early Poems VI



An Illusion
by Michael R. Burch

The sky was as hushed as the breath of a bee
and the world was bathed in shades of palest gold
when I awoke.

She came to me with the sound...

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Why does dawn dress robust morning,
while dusk undresses sight?
Each dawn incarnates another Earth Day
a lifetime of Easter mornings 
redeeming nocturnal sight's revolution,
another therapeutic day of gift-it-forward light,
some longer,
some shorter 
before naked covered night.

Why life?
To uncover...

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The difference between 
bad-old-boy 
competitively evolving 
egg white privilege

And good-girl 
cooperatively revolutionary 
just-us-yolks

Foreshadows a symbiotic contrast
between prophetic performance
and messianic practice,
said Professor Glory
in her Gospel of Permaculture class,
one Friday morning
while sitting on her crass 
desk of...

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They called their gang The ReVolutionaries,
my Father Sun and Mother Earth drew time with them,
but they often called themselves Yang and Yin,
respectively and mutually respectful
yet privately erotic,
not so much politically and economically
where Yang could not...

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Angry FireGod sneers sarcasm,
"Not warm enough yet?"
"Still too much clean water and air
and other healthy stuff,
like sun-baked red chili peppers?"

Excuse me,
I was under the impression
that I invited you for my interview,
which would involve me asking...

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~ The Power Of God's Armor  ~
( Hourglass  )



Oh Lord! help me in daily walk
In your Holy name, let me talk
Thru life guide me so less I fall
Each day I want to hear...

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NAME: Phil Latio.

QUALIFICATIONS: LLB (Law) PhD (Medicine) & FSC (Federation Starfleet    
                    ...

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Like Hannibal we crossed the pass and crossed 
   the Alps (okay, the Brynderwyn Hills) 
and a bridge too far on north-west passage.
   From out of the Valley of Mizpah 
to...

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Postcard 1
by Miklós Radnóti
written August 30, 1944
translated by Michael R. Burch
 
Out of Bulgaria, the great wild roar of the artillery thunders,
resounds on the mountain ridges, rebounds, then ebbs into silence
while here men, beasts, wagons...

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~  The Power Of God's Armor     ~
 ( The Hourglass / Prayer Style  )
 


~O~



Oh Lord! help me in daily walk
In your Holy name, let me talk
Thru life guide...

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it feels good to escape
with authors and poets
and dream up new places
with tales that are spun

but sometimes what's real
and sometimes what isn't
encroach on each other
and read just as one

such are the worlds
of rhyme but no...

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~ Worship And Praise   ~ 
( Pantoum ) 
 

~O~


Worship God, pray each day, all way. 
Keep the Lord always in my life. 
Surely follow Him every day. 
Worship and Praise, in good...

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Start and end each day,
and life,
with a taoist egg.

I doubt my eggs are religious.

No, but they are natural,
organic incubators, 
co-arising nondual yolk form
with transparent regenerative function,
cosmological purpose, maybe,
if you're a chicken,
or a turkey, 
or a...

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Randomling 1:  Matthew Macfadyen

I believe I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen
He inspires in me a terribly bad yen
But as poetry goes
His name 'spires woes
Cause nothing rhymes with "Macfadyen”.


Randomling 2: Birthday Wishes
  
For my birthday,...

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Translation of Eric Mottram’s Courbet: Elegy 8 by T. Wignesan

Blanches oeuvres ouvertes
résident dans les jours
la surface du banc de travail est noire
les géraniums-lierres
les fougères et les adragans
accumulent leurs oeuvres et jours:
La toile noire de Courbet
un...

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Prose Poems

Something
by Michael R. Burch

Something inescapable is lost?lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight, vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars immeasurable and void. Something uncapturable is...

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Where do we come in
					in medias res  not knowing nor caring when
doesn’t everybody pine being number one we leave behind our lives in pages  pictures  or else make for images of what...

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What's up?
Thanks for this interview,
old man.

You are either blind or confused,
but probably both.

Well, thanks,
and I appreciate you as well.
Now, I understand you want to talk about human consciousness.

We comprehend your language as limiting human consciousness.

Now...

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- - Chapter 2: Adult Responsibility (With Some Breaks) - -     

By ten years old, no weekends off, 
Or Saturday cartoons, 
Although I did have cash to spend, 
I felt my...

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Forever forgive me
For my one and only iniquity
Please forgive me
With forbearance eternally

Lots of anger and lust
Got a hold of me…
So, I must...oh, I must…
Set my soul free

Forever forgive me
Determine my footsteps to the light
Emotionally unhappy
Intervene...

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Here I stand outside this door heart beating out of my chest, knowing that once I cross this threshold there will be nothing of me left
I got myself into this predicament I wanted this so...

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The Story
by Kamal Nasser
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story...

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