Long Stallions Poems

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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Rejection Slips 3

Rejection Slip
by Michael R. Burch

Whenever my writing gets rejected,
I always wonder how the rejecter got elected.
Are we exchanging at the same Bourse?
(Excepting present company, of course!)

When editors reject my poems, did I slip...

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With you, the twilight changes, wandering through the silent dreams,
With you, destiny wanders, hopes and promised goals.
With trembling boats at the shores, love urges us to be
Hostages to the droplets of waves and kings over...

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Patriotically empowered boundaries of apartheid
are also economic and ecological apartheid
of borders unrecognized by MatrioticEarth.

Economic and ecological apartheid
of Earth's nature ourselves,
one Immigrant Creolizing Body,
are inhumane and anti-healthy faces
of politically empowered fascism,
totalitarianism,
rulership of patriarchally self-inspired Elites
now rabidly...

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My internal experience of depression
today shames
external ecology of elation,
all I might know as warm extended family
of profoundly peaceful impressions
still bare surviving
at end of this slow-fading thread.

This morning
one Epictetus sentence
speaks of blaming left-hemisphere dominant GodVoices:

"People are...

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I saw a fair young maiden, abandoned in her bed,
Tearful for the one she loved ,the one she chose to wed.

Who in a weakened moment tread, out to the mountain ledge,
Enticed by the knight in...

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I've always admired 
horses
and I guess I most surely 
always will
No legend without em' 
complete
The unsung heroes of 
any heroic battle

Pony, colt, filly or mare
ride it bareback if you 
dare

Ride them to a trot, ride...

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Victory at the Hippodrome

They were hiding their stalls out of sight near the race course at Olympia

No signs but everyone knew where they were under cover of dubious propriety

On track for instant wealth and gratification...

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Musings at Giza, Egypt
by Michael R. Burch

In deepening pools of shadows lies
the Sphinx, and men still fear his eyes.
Though centuries have passed, he waits.
Egyptians gather at the gates.

Great pyramids, the looted tombs
—how still and desolate...

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”.... taste me….”

tell me how
in a keystroke
to make you come…

~ dripp
into me

”...with a devil’s tongue…”

suck it!

I’m undone!
and HOW
dare you
came!
don’t run
now coward
it’s ME…
your game
shreds a fabric
to burn a name

”...I want fire….”

eyes
flashed sin
seeking out
what’s really been
known
for all...

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(Manifesto) 

VIII … stop! - Skid! - Shift knobs, slide gears, vomit numbness, fondle!… the music of 
guillotines!… 

VII … unmannered retching! since everything is a percentage of death in motel prayer-nights 
separated from unholy...

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Our Beloved returns        with a mighty entourage
his banner men ride before him
             they are swifter than...

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Part Three

Whether or not relations with the uncultured enamour
Do not seek to succour what should sour

What does it matter if you gain or lose inferiors
Who feather their own nests and leave you in a mess

Those...

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"O Witless Quill"




O witless quill
sharply dipped in smiles leering
joust they your words
on their egos competing
galloping black stallions, see them fall
shiny armour felled knights
and petulant proud Queens now all shiny amour, in their saddles riding

Merry rogers
Merry...

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MEMO for Destroyer Poet A Linda: 3. 20 p.m., 23rd April 2013 – Paris, France
  
If you are Red   I am Brown
If you’re not 
Then as one concrete painter using phonemes 
...

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I am strange—so strange
that I self-destructed and don't regret it.
—Jaun Elia, translation by Michael R. Burch

The wound is deep—companions, friends—embrace me!
What, did you not even bother to stay?
—Jaun Elia, translation by Michael R. Burch

My nature...

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 Part 3

9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing......

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She came upon me in a dream deep down from within my destination

Which coursed the mind and soul of years for my memories' inspiration

The path was crowded with bouncing hooves and wagons decorated

With fantasies ornaments...

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WORDS ON THE SAND (Part 3)

Not distant a young girl watching silent
On her wheelchair. No writing from a limited body
The sand waiting from her what in life is more salient
After she saw the old man,...

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My grandfather
seemed wise with years
walking his rural spiritual path
in a relentlessly white
Christian dualistic church
dividing sinful nature
from sacred spirit.

He counseled:
Do not mix
religion and politics.

I wonder
how he would feel
about this mix
of sacred and profane
if he were to...

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A Hundred Equine

Hot salty drops trickled into my mouth.
The sun had changed my brown flesh to bright red.
Reflected brilliance passed through squinting eyes.
Faint, I rested in shade eating sweetbread.

I lay my head on a smooth...

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Flying airships battling in the open sky,
 the sailors trying to save their own lives, 
and all the panoplies of war revealed in broad daylight
 unto the human psyche.

The cosmos composed wholly of oceans with...

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"All the Dark Stallions"



Calliope burns 
ecstatic bright star
fire brands, all her marks

both hands 
holding the ropes
firmly fast today 

slow burn 
tomorrow
warm whispers 

gently towards
the unlit shadows
love wanting always stays

driving all 
the dark stallions
towards heaven

where the...

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Impeccant,
 of non-textual matters
 one’s covered flesh,
 and hidden embrasure’
 as diffusate primer
 slips life’s veil, and
 in agitated pontlevis,
 cleaves the universe’ reason…
 “Egads! What sorcery is this?”
 Holy heart failure, Batman!
 “Beavis and...

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                                  ...

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