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Best Poems Written by Michael Amitin

Below are the all-time best Michael Amitin poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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All In the Game

All in the Game


a call to the
bullpen by time
warner
tie your cleats by
florsheim
everything in
moderation by red
label vodka
plan ahead by forest
lawn

and beneath the
glittering
twittering
insta- scat game
show reverie
an absolutely
electrifying,
stupefying timeless
wonder

a baseball game

walk off win
dodgers 1 padres 0

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Poetry's Bloody Murder

tiptoe through a sky of dying lilacs daisy chain reactors
try real hard not to offend anyone
please don’t jerk my alphabet out of your swoon soup
my occasional tongue likes to swoop down
and scoop tender mutinies...  into my
green slimy spoon - quick turn disquised saliva into
churn burnt backwards words

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Holy Candle Blues

“holy candle blues”


in the rust red sunset - angel brother bends his blown glass ear over the wall of eternity listening in on my sweet restless rathouse jam

she entered peeling story-caked walls riding a lightning broom swept me 

out to half dippermoon bridge 
we swung downtown where
waltzing heirs warmed six-figure derrieres above smorgasbord fires
I faked all the right questions into hell’s Paradise

panting at the emerald city orgasm waiting beneath her olive skin gypsy thin cocktail feast
ignoring the runaway beast

and someone beamed—they make a great couple
as we sweat to god’s blistering last-chance desperate romance bugle call
my ragged sailor heart pirouetting out the hornpipe door over muddy cliffs 

on the way down a devil in white linen gown serving dark red obsession wine flaming flambé soft brown coconut limbs 
the fly doing backflips in a honey pot 

over the lava baked sea 
a million miles away 
the moaning rusted ship creaked like a red infection begging to be freed from the last ripples in a skin game port

You knew all along prophet of the beautiful tracks
That my ramble played in a forest of doom
I surrender dear monk in the sad samba night 

that wind pushed me mountains away
flushed me out of hiding in the prehistoric pubescent
road-burnt grotto
at the piano bar you played me like a thundering chord…till a

midnight candle grabbed the shades
and a fire came roaring down in flames

we crawled like god’s sweet snails to the clear-as-a bell day

glaring up to the dark blue smoke where a cherry red sunset angel rained wild woolen ashes down on love’s last twitch…applauding the singed curtain call
live! live! ... he cried from his bongo perch on heaven street 

hot orange coals fading in the chilled breeze
words we’ll never speak again you and I
Unless fate has too much time to deal strange train cards

this harp strung midnight reverie 
sad violins hijack innocent dreams and twist the arm of violet coated wishes  

In my hidden dark room 
holy candle blues…
whispers of sea wind blowing

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Poetry Seance

so much talk
poetry’s dead, poetry’s dying

I live with the dead
know the dying

in myself
so I lay a braided scarlet welcome mat
at the door and welcome 

all for this marvelous seance
and metamorphosis

step right up
the plasticine academic gold butterfly
returns to the vile chopped red neon street

tranvestites ask directions and wink
as the mint girls turn their heads shake their ass

knowing full well porn has emptied their
carrot dangling coffers

the man with the gold lamé suit
terminal navy ink fingers
throwing darts at the half-grinning moon

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Black Currant Roll Fiestas

in the church of the latter day pipe dream
the jungle heartbeat settles with the sleeping sun, 
the hightone choir kicks up a midnite melody filled with street bead jubilee

in the chiily frost a houndrel skidmark queen skates circles
around the thatched hut of eternity
holding burning rites reaching back through catacomb starlights

marriage a forgotten horse and buggy seventy six trombone dream routine left in the blue sky cornfield tractor breeze
sex evaporates like a withered tiger eye in a jejune july wind
satisfaction’s red lip lightning bolt sparks green exit goddess dressing golden imprimatura in the fog lifting drift 

teenage trollers leave their uneasy dancing slipknot slippers at the doorstep of juicy blended upended black currant roll fiestas

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Boatman's Elegy

her hand cold with the death of romance
obligatory touch
we watched it erode like a mountain chipped away by cheap winds 
irretrievably sad
but still the flowers roll out, the cards keep coming
the quick peck kisses and morning goodbyes
the syringe shooting shared history into nostalgic veins

as dark radio rains throw branches against our chopin windowpanes

forever stuck in this merry mad dog affair
nightfall- sleep cascades death valley summer selling brooklyn bridge coffins that could fill mystery oceans in the space that lay between us
in this long forgotten sunken ship bed

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Hollow Inside Llewyn Davis

inside llewyn davis a chilly hollow faint heartbeat
couches ripe for self-pity's starlit sleepless night
oh freres coen what happened to
four in the morning cold baked beans
rapping about the gig
busting out bawdy jokes at sunrise
rapping arms race, civil rights, sweet sex tales 
tongue tied panavision
folkman batting pretty eyelashes in pretty corduroy
coat pretty angry girl
you 've lead us through depression south, fargo,60's minneapolis, 70's LA
all that's left to say
about this
fare thee well

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Gun Shot Alligators

gun shot alligators

scrambling fall dissolve slo-mo into mosaic pieces scraped together of the fishwife’s sawdust floor
sipping red neon earth quaked insecurity shakes when’ll the next run’s steed come forth
till I happily forge a carthaginian peace with the muses’ universal militia fragmented ragtag band playing on some dead main street candy striped phonograph
gun shot alligators eating my holy corduroy’s

after blending juices in backdoor cabooses track far and wide
I still got sex not sure I’d bet on it if a den of
erotica showed up in the night

acceptance my lord- else be carved up left for dead
at the hands of a hatchet wielding prideful dormouse licking champagne from  silver laces of some battered systematic boot

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Crooked Tom Thumb

shadow of the greyblue stairs
heading up to who knows where
jaws of a shark on the litter bone night wall

crazy to my right the lifeless painting
hangs speaking to no one
but the devils grass leaning
against the heavenly window

saintly church bell shadows
empty pews 
turning screws
confessional blues

feelin like crooked tom thumb on the run
fighting with giants singin with bums
achin to the bone sometimes numb
miracle train she runs and runs

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Death's Darkbeat Door

as many times I close my immortal chime-street eyelids
I hear the grim echo of the tap shoe reaper shuffling her uncertain deck
in the god forsaken rusty night corridor
of death’s darkbeat door
a waltz, a swing a whirling dervish belly hop bop 
pick it..she’ ll be a willing partner when it’s time