Long Opiate Poems

Epigrams by Michael R. Burch

If brevity is the soul of wit
then brevity and levity 
are the whole of it.
—Michael R. Burch

To write an epigram, cram.
If you lack wit, scram!
—Michael R. Burch

Conformists of a feather
flock together.
—Michael...

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The mute old drunk had gotten lucky the day before - a stranger had taken pity on him at the bridge, (under which he and many other homeless people lived), and stopped to give him...

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"Angels & Demons"




The Soul never sleeps
battered and lonely, the lesson 
Life spent in The Hard Sell

Soft-served you become
melting Insomnia 
mouth sucking a loaded gun

blue ribbonned and veined
pulsing electricity 
from heart to lung to brain

you’re a...

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They’re trying to tell you
That your superstitions and machinations 
Are an exhausting game of whack-a-mole
They’re trying to tell you 
You’ve assumed a version of them
That society told you existed and you never questioned
They’re trying to...

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Religion is a way of THINKING, and critics of RELIGION (from root, "to bind" or tie up) had it right. They went a bit overboard & declared, "Religion is the opiate of the masses." In...

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The village head Pymy Gruzz was hundred years old
He had no daring self neither a piece of gold
Only a daughter had he she was a foster child
She was fifteen years old Kiki– sweet, gentle and...

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When she meets you for the first time she should hand you a card, 
Laminated, that tells you her name and what she does... 
Not a business card you understand, but a warning and an...

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I was staring out my window last night
Thinking of something fun to write
Something cool So I don't sound like a fool
We all know how kids can be cruel 
To be accepted is the number #1...

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I should have been a Beat Poet

I should have been a Beat Poet
Like Ginsberg or Ferlinghetti
They were good but not that great
Oh, maybe I'm being petty.

I could have driven across the States
Like Cassady and Kerouac
But...

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Dawns light slithers in, and it scratches your soul

The days eviceration about to unfold

Your mind all a jumble, your flesh all a quake

And you wonder inside " How much more can I take"

Will you hide...

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Poppy
by Michael R. Burch

“It is lonely to be born.” – Dannie Abse, “The Second Coming”

It is lonely to be born
between the intimate ears of corn . . .
the sunlit, flooded, shellshocked rows.

The scarecrow flutters, listens,...

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AS OPIUM OPINED

On the mantle of my memory over fantasy’s fireplace is the remembrance of that one most precious evening when snow consecrated and baptized our roof along with its promise of a childish sleigh...

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hold still, eventide ...
   I am a capricious cad among wraiths,
     waltzing with a mop in
      a Marrakesh courtyard - catching stars
  ...

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OPIUM OPINES

On the mantle of my memory over fantasy’s fireplace is the remembrance of that one most precious evening when snow consecrated and baptized our roof along with its promise of a childish sleigh ride...

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It would seem, that, humans,
Too sensitive to deal with the harshness of life
Prefer to fly on clouds, even if temporarily
To make themselves believe
That existing can be made of goodness!

Opiates, making of them zombies,
Accrue! And selling...

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Paraphrasing Dickens
speaking of Great Expectations
through Pip's distraining voice,
Our worst religious weaknesses
and political meannesses
and self and other deprivations
are usually committed
for the sake of avoiding elitist people
whom we most actively distrust.

On the other hand,
trust invites vulnerability
as distraining...

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~ Homage to Walt Sing Matt Tilde ~

The art of the
     "FAKE" deal (according
     to Walt Dizzy Take a Knee Sing
     Matt Tilde)...

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This morning on my knees again, I lift
You up in prayer, love. Beg God his care
For you, to make the laboring day swift
Balm your weary flesh, and deny your fear
I told him bathe you in...

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Mach my words, that time travel aye
foresee (rather than being 
     at a stand still, nee frozen 
     analogous to cry

oh ja hen nicks, or more particularly...

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Man-made drugs
Induce an altered state
A psychedelic paradise
Of euphoria
A burst of colors
Impaired reality of dreams
A fix of blissful forgetfulness
Married to ecstasy

What need have I of these?
When I have you
My drug of choice
I will not touch any...

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I am no revolutionary
For mine is not an ideal
A noble statement
I ain’t gonna give a speech
No riling up crowds, riots
This ain’t no cause
No movement for you to join
All that it is 
A cry to the...

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sigh …

a lifetime ago
I breathed here, vital -
dangled my topsiders over these
pier stones and pilings
tempting the dark leviathans
that swam beneath the bloated
August moon, reflected …
kissing menthols like careless lovers
concerned only with the moment (hoping)
and a...

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Up in Smoke With Satan's Folk!

Our Nation, State, burns up in smoke; it’s rape and pillage time!
As Satan’s folk trash social bulwarks, ‘brotherhood’s a crime.’
God’s nailed to walls ‘fake news’ erects (to hide its flaccid...

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THE DANCER AND THE POET (Satis Shroff)

There she is a blonde Flamenco dancer,
From a family that was long dysfunctional.	
The poet said: ‘Dance, my dear to the rhythm 
Of the guitar and my lyrics.’
She pushes her...

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*Hey guys :-) If you've got time to leave a little comment, I'd really appreciate any feed 
back you're willing to proffer. Constructive critcism and suggestions for improvement are 
very welcome. Thanks!*


Hate the day time,...

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