Submissions by mjs211 (MikeTheEngineer)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Oh, Mike the Engineer can build your brand-new hip, or synth your pills. But engineers left unfulfilled poor Mike's creative writing skills.
SELF POEM
Published
16th Nov 2011 3:16am
16th Nov 2011 3:16am
Pigeonholed
I wish these clothes would melt off my back
and we could fly into the cool night air,
laughing shadows—nothing more—nothing less—
flirting with the treetops, with each other
and making faces into high-rise windows,
scorning all that fate has destined for us
or more specifically for you, and then for me.
and we could fly into the cool night air,
laughing shadows—nothing more—nothing less—
flirting with the treetops, with each other
and making faces into high-rise windows,
scorning all that fate has destined for us
or more specifically for you, and then for me.
852 reads
9 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Sep 2011 7:49pm
29th Sep 2011 7:49pm
For Green Leaves on the Ground
I've always wanted to be a tree,
you said. To watch the world pass.
To stand on a corner and watch
the people go. To be bigger than them,
bigger than just people, man, that's
what I've always wanted. No worries
for your roots 'cause you've got no family,
no need to be a part of something else,
just your roots in the ground, man.
It's depth in height.
As for me, I was only half listening,
with my gaze fixed fast on the ground
where a branch lay full of green leaves.
Something decided these leaves weren't right,
pulled them off and...
you said. To watch the world pass.
To stand on a corner and watch
the people go. To be bigger than them,
bigger than just people, man, that's
what I've always wanted. No worries
for your roots 'cause you've got no family,
no need to be a part of something else,
just your roots in the ground, man.
It's depth in height.
As for me, I was only half listening,
with my gaze fixed fast on the ground
where a branch lay full of green leaves.
Something decided these leaves weren't right,
pulled them off and...
1058 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Sep 2011 3:23am
28th Sep 2011 3:23am
Big-picture people
It was somewhere in between
the desire to create
the Next Big Thing
and the struggle
to breathe until nightfall
that we realized we had lost
the puzzle to solve
amidst the pieces.
the desire to create
the Next Big Thing
and the struggle
to breathe until nightfall
that we realized we had lost
the puzzle to solve
amidst the pieces.
1045 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Sep 2011 8:54pm
26th Sep 2011 8:54pm
Mine town
I whistle wherever I go. Nonchalant,
offbeat, firmly in control of my life.
Cheerily warbling my songs, letting out
the tunes in my head, content
with my situation, strolling down the hall.
Grinning with my eyes as I pass friends,
never missing a note. It's a safety issue.
Because most of all I'm building a bridge
from the moment before we meet
to the moment after.
And if I ever stop my heady tweedling...
run. Vacate. It's a gas leak, boys. Just promise me
you'll give my heart its proper burial
before you replace it
with the next canary....
offbeat, firmly in control of my life.
Cheerily warbling my songs, letting out
the tunes in my head, content
with my situation, strolling down the hall.
Grinning with my eyes as I pass friends,
never missing a note. It's a safety issue.
Because most of all I'm building a bridge
from the moment before we meet
to the moment after.
And if I ever stop my heady tweedling...
run. Vacate. It's a gas leak, boys. Just promise me
you'll give my heart its proper burial
before you replace it
with the next canary....
900 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Sep 2011 5:38am
13th Sep 2011 5:38am
Madman Diaries
I.
And so it began. Running wild,
homeless and bereft of belongings,
came the wild-eyed stranger—
no, strange man. No stranger
to the best of us, not a man
hasn’t felt that blind running.
The wild eyes captured all.
Framed by the rest of his face,
by those greasy curls, sweat-laden
and seeming to tremble with hopeless
energy even as they flew—
a thousand trails to his eyes.
Those two black holes, pulling in
everything but giving nothing.
Bounding, stumbling, flinging himself
headlong anywhere,
those eyes...
And so it began. Running wild,
homeless and bereft of belongings,
came the wild-eyed stranger—
no, strange man. No stranger
to the best of us, not a man
hasn’t felt that blind running.
The wild eyes captured all.
Framed by the rest of his face,
by those greasy curls, sweat-laden
and seeming to tremble with hopeless
energy even as they flew—
a thousand trails to his eyes.
Those two black holes, pulling in
everything but giving nothing.
Bounding, stumbling, flinging himself
headlong anywhere,
those eyes...
1635 reads
19 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
11th Sep 2011 7:05am
11th Sep 2011 7:05am
Clock Hands and Calendars
A minute of silence to remember the act:
an eggshell gesture, quaint but empty.
Counting to sixty, practicing introspective faces,
while the only people who really care
already felt it every day of the year.
I hear we were horrified when JFK died.
an eggshell gesture, quaint but empty.
Counting to sixty, practicing introspective faces,
while the only people who really care
already felt it every day of the year.
I hear we were horrified when JFK died.
798 reads
6 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
30th Aug 2011 9:57pm
30th Aug 2011 9:57pm
Woodland Peace
Dappled sunlight plays across the tall bent grass,
deep moist emerald of summer speckled with bright flashes
where the sun manages to slip his fingers through the adult trees,
the ever-amusing soul jesting gently with chiding oaks.
"Shush, now, benevolent one, it's time for the world to rest."
The lazy light plays comfortingly across my half-closed eyelids.
A light breeze draws cool and fair across my face.
It soothes this space, sighing slow and soft.
"Safe and sound... Safe and sound..."
She folds me into her comforting embrace,...
deep moist emerald of summer speckled with bright flashes
where the sun manages to slip his fingers through the adult trees,
the ever-amusing soul jesting gently with chiding oaks.
"Shush, now, benevolent one, it's time for the world to rest."
The lazy light plays comfortingly across my half-closed eyelids.
A light breeze draws cool and fair across my face.
It soothes this space, sighing slow and soft.
"Safe and sound... Safe and sound..."
She folds me into her comforting embrace,...
934 reads
4 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
27th Aug 2011 5:46am
27th Aug 2011 5:46am
all sentimentality aside, go play in the niagara
she listens to you
breathing ragged
through your
teeth
until she's satisfied
you'll throw
no more
frayed
life-lines
(they weren't
to save
her)
and then
snip.
breathing ragged
through your
teeth
until she's satisfied
you'll throw
no more
frayed
life-lines
(they weren't
to save
her)
and then
snip.
878 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Aug 2011 3:23am
25th Aug 2011 3:23am
Like a Tiger in his Cage
I always turn to the right
when I'm troubled.
Pacing, pacing,
walking as an autistic man
and my mind's spinning its wheels
in the same muddy rut.
[I see myself in the mirror. My face frightens me. Right turn.]
Can't sit still (nervous energy drives me),
can't talk (conversations lose me),
television seems trivial
and the same old websites
fail to free my interest
from its captured state.
[The wall faces me, infuriating me. I know not why. Right turn.]
I can't handle it to face
anyone outside myself
so I shut...
when I'm troubled.
Pacing, pacing,
walking as an autistic man
and my mind's spinning its wheels
in the same muddy rut.
[I see myself in the mirror. My face frightens me. Right turn.]
Can't sit still (nervous energy drives me),
can't talk (conversations lose me),
television seems trivial
and the same old websites
fail to free my interest
from its captured state.
[The wall faces me, infuriating me. I know not why. Right turn.]
I can't handle it to face
anyone outside myself
so I shut...
809 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Aug 2011 10:33pm
16th Aug 2011 10:33pm
Madman
The madman creeps behind the lectern
While the world screws shut its eyes.
No signs about except a wrecked urn—
The madman creeps behind the lectern—
A game! think those who watch the sect churn
Buttered by eight sweetmilk lies.
The madman creeps behind the lectern
While the world screws shut its eyes.
**Written for the "Triolets" forum thread.**
While the world screws shut its eyes.
No signs about except a wrecked urn—
The madman creeps behind the lectern—
A game! think those who watch the sect churn
Buttered by eight sweetmilk lies.
The madman creeps behind the lectern
While the world screws shut its eyes.
**Written for the "Triolets" forum thread.**
819 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Aug 2011 1:25am
16th Aug 2011 1:25am
Solipsism
Measure me in liters of blood,
inches, pencil lead wasted, gone,
kevlar vests strapped on, all pierced,
every one cracked down the middle.
Take me seriously, take me lightly,
hesitate, but do so fleetingly—
everyone wants to spin the cylinder.
Endanger me, throw yourself into it,
never imagining it was more than it is,
grasping at the well-worn borderline as
it was intended for use. Take the barrel,
nerves exploding, aim and fire, hold it up,
every instinct screaming to aim and fire,
every twitch the closest you've ever come,...
inches, pencil lead wasted, gone,
kevlar vests strapped on, all pierced,
every one cracked down the middle.
Take me seriously, take me lightly,
hesitate, but do so fleetingly—
everyone wants to spin the cylinder.
Endanger me, throw yourself into it,
never imagining it was more than it is,
grasping at the well-worn borderline as
it was intended for use. Take the barrel,
nerves exploding, aim and fire, hold it up,
every instinct screaming to aim and fire,
every twitch the closest you've ever come,...
1097 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Aug 2011 00:21am
16th Aug 2011 00:21am
Together and away
We learned so much together,
you and I,
both together and away.
Together we learned
the beauty of deepest love,
most fervent devotion,
of passioned hands grasping
whatever fold of sheets
hadn't yet been rolled away,
of idle kisses just to pass
the warm hazy summers,
the fiery harvest moons.
Away, two parts of a whole,
we learned just as much of the world,
how when someone runs over
breathless
panicked
yelling frantic fuck-all
about some choking girl
asking if I know the Heimlich
that my immediate...
you and I,
both together and away.
Together we learned
the beauty of deepest love,
most fervent devotion,
of passioned hands grasping
whatever fold of sheets
hadn't yet been rolled away,
of idle kisses just to pass
the warm hazy summers,
the fiery harvest moons.
Away, two parts of a whole,
we learned just as much of the world,
how when someone runs over
breathless
panicked
yelling frantic fuck-all
about some choking girl
asking if I know the Heimlich
that my immediate...
702 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by mjs211 (MikeTheEngineer)
