Long Vats Poems

Limericks VII - Naughty, Bawdy, Risque, Absurd

There continue to be modern sequels of the famous "Nantucket" limericks, including this bawdy one of mine:

There was a lewd whore from Nantucket
who intended to pee in a bucket;
but...

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Fahr an' Ice
by Michael R. Burch

From what I know of death, I'll side with those
who'd like to have a say in how it goes:
just make mine cool, cool rocks (twice drowned in likker),
and real fahr...

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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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Vampire Poetry

Pale Though Her Eyes
by Michael R. Burch
 
Pale though her eyes,
her lips are scarlet
from drinking of blood,
this child, this harlot
 
born of the night
and her heart, of darkness,
evil incarnate
to dance so reckless,
 
dreaming of...

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Vampires
by Michael R. Burch

Vampires are such fragile creatures;
we fear the dark, but the light destroys them...
sunlight, or a stake, or a cross—such common things.
Still, late at night, when the bat-like vampire sings,
we heed his voice.

Centuries...

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Trifolium pollinated courtesy bombus

Before landscapers mow swaths
across undulating waves of clover
(the father/daughter team
usually cut grass every Tuesday)
bumblebees alight from one to another flower.

Meanwhile, I lie splayed
mid morning June 28th, 2022
with stomach upon natural carpeting
quietly basking...

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Remember all the Wise Men on their knees upon your yacht?
With orphans on their backs they’d crawled (with others that they’d brought)
Through rubble on the highway sands and residues of Lot.
They came from severed cities...

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On Monday morning, August 7th, 1823...someone that you’ve never heard of took his first small breath,
And all that he’s remembered for’s his awesome sour mash, and how he met, by all accounts, his quite peculiar...

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Pumpkin 

.                                 ...

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“We will clear the ground of all rubble.  We will plow the earth and break up her 
clods, so that the vine will take deep root and flourish throughout the land.  The 
hills...

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Pumpkin 

.                                 ...

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Concerto of the Enchanting Night
 Arabic Poem by: Fadhil Aziz Farman *
 Translated Into English by:
 Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
 =========================

You suggest the songs
And leave me deep
In the splendor of the rhythm and melody. 
Drag my...

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You can keep swinging in your smile
as your eyes see through the cylinder only
where the flowers radiate the scent
where the leaves wait for the rustle
of the fondling wind
where stars wait for the music
of the magical...

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The College Caravan

Last night we loaded the minivan with her
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chest of plastic drawers
stuffed with clothing, toiletries, school supplies, and posters.
While our vehicle is tightly packed, her room stands hollow;
drained of stuff...

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Humans blink over ten million times
Each and every year of their lives
So keep those eyelids watered real good
Sad movies will get rid of dry eyes

Not being married can shorten a man's life
By maybe ten years...

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Now, sitting here... 
Entranced in the endless depths of one's own thoughts and fears,
each dipped through vats 
of thick sap like tears...
Ahhhh...
Perhaps at a later time we can continue with the endless intricacies of ones...

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Cage the rage you envisage
At the slightest intervention
Your mood swing fails to assuage
When folly in full bloom springs into action 

To boost the small ego that looms large
In response to the uncontrolled wrath
Your short fuse...

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Excerpts from the Journal of Dorian Gray
by Michael R. Burch

(These are verified excerpts from Oscar Wilde's "Journal of Dorian Gray")

It was not so much dream, as error;
I lay and felt the creeping terror
of what I...

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Hearts burning with desire
Minds awash with dreams and aspirations
Eyes wishing from normal life to retire
Ears primed to hear inspirational orations 

Delivered at a pacey rate
To a receptive audience
Minds desperate 
To get with mischief in silence

So...

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I

wet cat impaled on telegraph poles
serrated ashbrown fur
tinged with flinting silver
a mirror blue
cut by guitar strings on a shining plate
bathed in molten evening shine

jet streaks through pylon barrage
windshield wipers’ hemicircular swipe

dry cat’s crusty baguette fur
ashen...

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Stood aside the gruelling line,
His swastika eyes absorbed
Miniscule details of victims
As they filed past, heads bowed,
Hearts crushed.

Imperceptible nods potted fates,
The guards watched his every move,
Dragged apart the chosen ones,
The ones his nods imbued with gravitas,
Unnatural...

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Ah Vegas
You call me now
In ways no longer reserved
For asylum jingles or perverse tours of duty
Those missions have been won
Decorated in myth
Perpetuated by views and cues
As wartorn players revel
In memories
Gaunt from melted time
Quantum distance
And duty...

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Staggered by the virus burning through the city veins,
Stop motion, speeded up, the slam of distant trains,
Rattled through the concrete as forgotten people die,
Howling jets of power chords go crashing through the sky.
The cardboard jungle...

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If my mind be painted in colors borrowed, would it be red? 
Rusted in brown, or maybe instead, an indigo streak?
Depending upon the source of inspiration, 
and the song on the radio at the time...

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Trouble left alone hurts no soul
Endowed with enough wisdom
To score no own goal
When trouble turns vicious in the kingdom 

Where trouble finger on the trigger of his machinegun
Slays intruders by the dozen
If wisdom devices from...

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