Passion Vanity Poems

To the social worker, fierce and bold, a shield against the night,
Who fights for children, lost and cold, yet may not see the foster system's...

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Flesh fuels fire. Spirit yields. There's body-soul fusion.
Springs up, will to power, and power to will illusion
Narcissistic senses and sensations amalgamated
Moral fibre, like worn-out dental...

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Written: September 29, 2023
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In this brazen society, lunacy thrives.
In an era led by narcissism, no one lives.
Covetousness and desultoriness sit on the throne.
While sympathy and...

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Perfect is a thought 

A thought of life without time
Other than when we wake and when we sleep
A thought thought of so much Love
It can...

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One more time

One more time 
Call my name loudly dear
With love and passion...

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I
The pain, the pain - not mine
God had allowed them, I didn't whine
Love and lottery share a common thread -

Money makes them attractive, addictive

We know...

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Leather boots 
tight black suits 
skin hot bound 
in knots cutting 
sweet the heat 
Burns in between 
the pleasure 
of the pain 
the sweat 
of...

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Hot, sweaty, intense, full body ******
When you feel the connection
When you feel the chemistry
You know the sex would be amazing
Sometimes no words are needed
Holding eye...

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Joyful music filled the village
when mother’s barren womb gave birth. 
Born to end Philistine pillage, 
and fill sad, anxious hearts with mirth.

No wine or product...

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I wonder day and night what is that I lack.
My demons in my head tell me it's you that no one likes.
The consciousness In my...

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Never before this sentiment stirred awareness,

did we care enough to start an enduring flame

and keep it burning through a moonless night?

We stared into the shallow...

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I
I am with Liberty
At least I was
Until 2019, before the Virus
Now as in puerile freedoms
(Just words, not many will sacrifice for;
Most people go along, as...

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He made me the centre of gravity.

Pride dressed, lone like blood moon

Whose deserted home became vanity

Did I become evil or was I rune?

Greater insight and...

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A Vain Word
by Michael R. Burch
 
Oleanders at dawn preen extravagant whorls
as I read in leaves’ Sanskrit brief moments remaining
till sunset implodes, till the moon...

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A vagabond "gypsy" performs the "perfect illusion" her garb of ever changing "fashion" this conscious lady of reinvention. 
she says, she was "born this way",...

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