Long Rancid Poems

Flint 
Within its brilliance gleaming
Cool black in lacquered polished silver chrome
Cranked up pistons bleached in summer’s heat
Hot steam rising as gears thundering
Beyond the crystal liquid city lights
Highways built across the land
In hearts felt pride American...

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Rejection Slips 2

The Shape of Mourning
by Michael R. Burch
 
The shape of mourning
is an oiled creel
shining with unuse,
 
the bolt of cold steel
on a locker
shielding memory,

the monthly penance
of flowers,
the annual wake,
 
the face in the...

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Nucleotidings
by Michael R. Burch

“We will walk taller!” said Gupta,
sorta abrupta,
hand-in-hand with his mom,
eyeing the A-bomb.

“Who needs a mahatma
in the aftermath of NAFTA?
Now, that was a disaster,”
cried glib Punjab.

“After Y2k,
time will spin out of control anyway,”
flamed...

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I heard two distinct voices in the night,
Conversing amongst themselves most eagerly
They whispered like children in excitement
Their sardonic mouths sung many savvy tunes
It was Death I could perceive, defending me,
And he, a strange, distant friend
Seemed...

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Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 
My brain makes me wonder if you remember the times shared
Back to the blessed times, I recall that you would listened, be worried about me, and, at the time,...

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*** Notice to the residents of Milton Creek ***

Tom serves as mayor. never complaining, so he gets what he requests 
No blood in his steak, apple pie with sweet cream. Aces cooks that meal
to perfection...

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The constant assault of the silence on his senses is intense 
Hands clenched in fist he wished for noise and bliss
Buddy stopped talking and drinking he begins pacing as he’s thinking 
Tired from walking he...

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Gold is your soul


The drive there will be boring.
The arrival so momentous!
The disappointing greeters;
The sights not quite as expected.
The smell at times will be rancid.
The art of it all will be lost.
They will say “Welcome...

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This is not really a test.
More of a survey,
so there are no right or left answers.

Did you mean to say
Answers are both right and wrong?

Yes.
Isn't that what I said?

Not quite, but go ahead.

How would you...

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Chief garbage taster as fifth grade Halloween gag
at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School
interestingly enough landed me a grubhub grab bag.

I rooted thru poetry anthology of mine,
and came across an unpublished poem
by one obscure poet (me),...

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[Note: You will see in the work below connections to other poems I have posted here.  Those poems are tangents to this poem that more completely tell the tale of rise, pride, hubris, fall,...

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A country of dreams has burst its rainbow at all ragged seams

In a state of affairs illusion of fusion and widespread delusion

The constitution hallucinates as night settles scores of deceit

Bereavement takes its toll in anger...

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at Henry Kline Boyer Elementary School

As a Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got the brilliant idea 
for his sole son to be dressed 
with one of a kind getup.

Missus Shaner...

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Hm, well, I see you need to give yourself a lot more credit
Than you give yourself daily – you’re modest, I do admit 

You have a witty and clever side in you deep down
What about...

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Chief egalitarian garbage taster i.e. “white trash”

As Halloween costume, 
one year during early grade school, 
my father got brilliant idea 
for sole son dressed
uniquely rubbish qua 
putrid offal getup. 

Missus Shaner (talon clawed, 
shriveled relic...

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Thus says He who guards the gate,
The atmosphere is stagnant,
Stagnant with discontented gluttons,
Tangled with tricks and deceptions,
Soaked with indoctrination,
And charged with foul breath. 

Thus says He who guards the gate,
The atmosphere is saturated,
Saturated with dirt...

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“You play on my every weakness from my past, 
As a heart-wrenched spirit of truth caresses your comrades
They are perturbed as you are by the magnificent light,
To challenge your heart, is to render the fight…”

A...

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There he sits that monstrous hypocrite. There he dwells as I wash these dishes, his dishes. There he slouches, watching his games, his news, his crap. I try and think to dream past my own...

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SELF PORTRAIT DEDICATED TO LEON TROTSKY (by Frida Kahlo)

                          ...

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When we were young,
I held my long tongue
Foolishly sheepish 
Life is a sea full of fish

Good times spent with you mindlessly 
Boy, I don't feel guilty for being your minion of troublesome crime...spent so playfully...

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Breath...
I sit looking at this page, thinking about you.
My first memories of so very long ago.
I was four and you and some friends sat in the living room 
of our house on the corner. ...

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I’m mad as H E Double Hockey Sticks, flummoxed, and  more than a little scared
Kids are being shot in their own back yards, makes me sick to my stomach
Mommas and daddies taken in handcuffs...

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                                  It’s...

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Inside A ‘72 Econoline

This old green van has a musty smell to it,
Like a pair of sweaty rancid socks
Mixed with half-empty beer cans.
It’s a banged up thing, this ’72 Econoline.
Scratches and mysterious dents 
Cover its...

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Regretting Cake Takes Two

Rachael looked sheepishly like a hawk in disguise claws clenched meticulous sharpened
yet hidden her sullen face pressing wrinkled no motion frosted lips the icing on the cake
It had meant to be such...

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