Sonnets Xcviii-C

Sonnets XCVIII-CII Willy Nilly by Michael R. Burch for the Demiurge aka Yahweh/Jehovah Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? You made the stallion, you made the filly, and now they sleep in the dark earth, stilly. Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? You forced them to run all their days uphilly. They ran till they dropped— life’s a pickle, dilly. Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? They say I should worship you! Oh, really! They say I should pray so you’ll not act illy. Isn’t it silly, Willy Nilly? Published by The New Formalist, Poet’s Corner, The Road Not Taken, Charlie Hebdo Poetry I’ve got Jesus’s face on a wallet insert by Michael R. Burch for the Religious Right I’ve got Jesus’s face on a wallet insert and “Hell is for Queers” on the back of my shirt. And I uphold the Law, for grace has a Flaw: the Church must have someone to drag through the dirt. I’ve got ten thousand reasons why Hell must exist, and you’re at the top of my fast-swelling list! You’re nothing like me, so God must agree and slam down the Hammer with his Loving Fist! For what are the chances that God has a plan to save everyone: even Boy George and Wham!? Eternal fell torture in Hell’s pressure scorcher will separate *****from Man. I’m glad I’m redeemed, ecstatic you’re not. Did Christ die for sinners? Perish the thought! The “good news” is this: soon My Vengeance is his!, for you’re not the lost sheep We sought. What Would Santa Claus Say? by Michael R. Burch What would Santa Claus say, I wonder, about Jesus returning to kill and plunder? For he’ll likely return on Christmas Day to blow the bad little boys away! When He flashes like lightning across the skies and many a homosexual dies, when the harlots and heretics are ripped asunder, what will the Easter Bunny think, I wonder? “And I will kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am he which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.” (So much for grace according to Revelation 2:23, where Jesus, or someone speaking for him, vows to personally murder children for their mother’s sins!) Published by Lucid Rhythms, Poet’s Corner and translated into Czech by Vaclav ZJ Pinkava Heat Lightening by Michael R. Burch Each night beneath the elms, we never knew which lights beyond dark hills might stall, advance, then lurch into strange headbeams tilted up like searchlights seeking contact in the distance . . . Quiescent unions . . . thoughts of bliss, of hope . . . long-dreamt appearances of wished-on stars . . . like childhood’s long-occluded, nebulous slow drift of half-formed visions . . . slip and bra . . . Wan moonlight traced your features, perilous, in danger of extinction, should your hair fall softly on my eyes, or should a kiss cause them to close, or should my fingers dare to leave off childhood for some new design of whiter lace, of flesh incarnadine. Plastic Art or Night Stand by Michael R. Burch Disclaimer: This is a poem about artificial poetry, not love dolls! The victim is the Muse. We never questioned why “love” seemed less real the more we touched her, and forgot her face. Absorbed in molestation’s sticky feel, we failed to see her staring into space, her doll-like features frozen in a smile. She held us in her marionette’s embrace, her plastic flesh grown wet and slick and vile. We groaned to feel our urgent fingers trace her undemanding body. All the while, she lay and gaily bore her brief disgrace. We loved her echoed passion’s squeaky air, her tongueless kisses’ artificial taste, the way she matched, then raised our reckless pace, the heart that seemed to pound, but was not there. Keywords/Tags: God, Demiurge, Yahweh, Jehovah, Jesus, Christ, Christian, Bible, pray, prayer, hell, heaven, Judgement, salvation, lost, church, law, grace, redeemed, sin, sinners, Christmas