Long Oyster Poems

"As other spirits sail on music, mine, oh my love, swim on your perfume." Charles Baudelaire

"Sometimes you find an old bottle from which the soul returns." 
Charles Baudelaire

"Smell is a Word. Perfume is Literature."

"There are...

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Doggerel II: Doggerel about Doggerel, or, More Nonsense Verse

The Board
by Michael R. Burch

Accessible rhyme is never good.
The penalty is understood:
soft titters from dark board rooms where
the businessmen paste on their hair
and, Walter Mitties, woo the...

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"I am a painter and my eyes are the paint brushes I had if I look up with my open eye I see the Horizon I see the clouds to be continued
Oh shutter as I...

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The Sun was acting rather strange
With the Moon and Stars concerned.
As it was not content to share the sky...
And not prepared to wait its turn.
So the sea was simmering and boiling hot
Without the night's return.

But...

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To Ecological Greens
concerned about tolerating
evangelical 
monotheistic Red intolerance
of unstraight
unwhite
unmale
unhealthy
unsafe
panentheistic EarthDays
and dualdark wiki-nights
potentially bicameral
bipartisan
bisexual
binomial
neurosystemic cooperative regenerations
of win/win resonant
robust images

Any nonbinary person
all growed up
in a homophobic
straight
white
male anthrosupremacist monoculture
must not fail to see
to hear
to smell
to feel

Will have trouble...

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the biggest obstacle you face today, is not what's outside your door, but what's inside your mind......can you challenge yourself to challenge yourself?  You've fought with life and everyone else all your life......this will...

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Age defiant was this spruce and spirited citizen slinking blithely past the burgundy red doors of her enigmatic country dwelling.
As her olive skin neatly curved fingers 
slid over an intermittently scratched carbon black handrail she...

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The views and opinions herewith extemporized to spur discourse with me, or to be mindful when exercising the right to vote in the country of your existence, which expressed intimation predicated upon read reliable publications...

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Isis staind 26+ years of marriage

Yes, believe me you, 
I (also considered the best karaoke singer
for the go-go's) 
putting Shabrina Leonita to shame
back in two thousand and twenty one
once flew high as the eagles 
a...

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Isis staind 27+ years...

of scorpion stinging poison us marriage,
whereby the missus and I,
nevertheless experienced genesis as 
mama and papa respectively.

(jest kibitizing)

thus explaining why I 
(a beatle browed  
sixty five year young adult) 
joined blue...

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“The songs are casual and careless in a satisfying way, like the used condom your latest lover left lying on your bedroom floor, a souvenir you’re not yet ready to dispose of.” Candy Cotton, Modern...

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Every time I change directions
lately, and possibly beforely,
Trees stand by to mentor
and nurture,
to feed with branched hands
to bleed when uprooted
from aptic past centuries
of hibernating winter naps.

Trees of original pheromone attraction,
August spawned
like Taurus colonizing crabgrass
embedded in...

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Creative cerebral craftiness coaxes...

Childhood campy chimera curtain call
subsequently hinting (based on accuweather)
the approach of blizzard squall
so burrow under quilted cover y'all
until warm temperatures arrive when springtime
ushers social media platforms 
buzzfeeding earthlinked instant karma 
jump/kickstarting linkedin...

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For some enchanted evenings...

The following scenario imagined
after the hoopla of
Democratic National Convention miracle workers
Kamala Harris and Tim Walz
trumpeted politically wholesome zeal,
and achieved advancement
propelling them ahead
in the race to the White House.

Unlike the hangdog expression of...

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Entered in Kai Michael Neumann contest, Psychedelic Contest
Received a N/A - judged 12/04/2024


"Rejection is the sand in the oyster, the irritation that ultimately produces the pearl.” – Burke Wilkinson

Hearts connect, through light that binds,
Kisses gentle,...

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A Priest Who Had Schumer Humor

Our priest had almost been a baby boomer,
Who is religious and we even heard a rumor
He did dodge,
Having a massage;
Has friend named Schumer with much humor.

Priest always thought he was...

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Sitting on a stack of old portraits
Feeling like an ill fated king, destined to be dethroned
Lonely and long since forgotten
At least that’s the narrative my mind conjures up
Whether it breathes truth, as always
A matter of...

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While on the topic 
of blood kith and kin,
I relate another 
fabricated poem about 
blimey bloke of a fisherman. 

Trawl tale of a fictitious seaman told to ye...

Courtesy webbed whirled wide net wit
cursing thwarted life,...

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The playground I chose to write about,
Is open twenty four seven, night or day,
It is beyond any expectable doubt, dangerous
Paradise to young animals, some human
Children perhaps even envious!
Zippity was a young, playful giraffe,
His mother always...

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I know of a river of more than average 
Sorts...
Meandering, when not dallying to maunder,
Between many differing contours 
And unruly contorts;
Where a privileged youth once
Happily sought -
Pursuing about his passions
In the traditional methods 
By which...

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Does life exist between calamities 
or does it exist between parameters
lucky or bot, sight or hearing
visible or non-existent, circumstances or inferiority
a complex we don't understand nor leaves us standing
How much longer will these afflictions persist
how...

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So many leaders leading astray on course for what and why
                    Luring monsters and devils in...

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In Elysian Heights, Room 8 stands strong, 
as a blessed place for a furlong purrloin whisk-along a ride-along comforting face,
where memories of childhood days belong,
a classmate, a friend, roommate_in our youthful race, ("Room 8") was...

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"Purgatory is a Poem"



Words are the pieces
in a game we play
shadow and light 
hidden from day
poets are nocturnal
in nature, stasis, 
keen and hungry
listening to 
Forever
stuck between 
the doors to
Past, Now and Never -
senses feral 
and...

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When heinous fangs
of life drain
the amethyst glow
flowing above 
infected ripples of time,
I question the 
chaos that claims
serenity through 
saline serenade 
of sirens, composed 
with midnight ink
across a mazed face 
of a starless canvas,
What if these...

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