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.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2011 7:14am
23rd Apr 2011 7:14am
Tutankhamun
When we die,
before they've finished
petrifying our empty meat
to match our lacquered pine box,
we are already being idealized
by those with the good fortune
to outbreathe us.
Treated as golden idols
of our earthly selves,
as is the unwritten rule.
Every pursuit becomes noble,
every foible deemed endearing,
every vice dubbed a God-damn-
kick-in-the-teeth-to-society-
and-that's-the-way-he-liked-it
for men to chuckle over nostalgically
sitting at the bar (that is,
the vices which aren't
conveniently...
before they've finished
petrifying our empty meat
to match our lacquered pine box,
we are already being idealized
by those with the good fortune
to outbreathe us.
Treated as golden idols
of our earthly selves,
as is the unwritten rule.
Every pursuit becomes noble,
every foible deemed endearing,
every vice dubbed a God-damn-
kick-in-the-teeth-to-society-
and-that's-the-way-he-liked-it
for men to chuckle over nostalgically
sitting at the bar (that is,
the vices which aren't
conveniently...
1702 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Apr 2011 7:57am
20th Apr 2011 7:57am
Five hundred slivers
I once broke a mirror,
dropped it on the floor
and watched in horror
as it broke into five hundred
tiny slivers. Little daggers,
which cut me as I tried
to throw them out, keep
them from hurting others.
You paint your true opus
in five hundred little slivers,
tiny shards in which you
carve yourself, trying to
find reality. In a constant state
of looking for a full-length view
in each tiny little mirror, you
forget they all connect.
dropped it on the floor
and watched in horror
as it broke into five hundred
tiny slivers. Little daggers,
which cut me as I tried
to throw them out, keep
them from hurting others.
You paint your true opus
in five hundred little slivers,
tiny shards in which you
carve yourself, trying to
find reality. In a constant state
of looking for a full-length view
in each tiny little mirror, you
forget they all connect.
1175 reads
16 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Apr 2011 6:22am
16th Apr 2011 6:22am
By the Book
Acetic acid for the King.
Bastardized, indignified,
Callously treated like a rag-doll jester.
Desperate times call for dead men,
And he made scapegoating look heroic.
Bastardized, indignified,
Callously treated like a rag-doll jester.
Desperate times call for dead men,
And he made scapegoating look heroic.
842 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Apr 2011 6:13am
16th Apr 2011 6:13am
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
Artillery shells mark the damned,
Born of cannonade fire.
Christian names whispered by dusty lips
Destined to speak nevermore.
The ones who applaud never saw the show.
Born of cannonade fire.
Christian names whispered by dusty lips
Destined to speak nevermore.
The ones who applaud never saw the show.
783 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Apr 2011 3:50pm
15th Apr 2011 3:50pm
Animal
Some elephants have been known to take fruits,
deliberately place them in puddles to ferment,
then drink the tepid water like a dirty martini.
I suppose although elephants never forget,
they sometimes wish they could.
I've never felt so animal.
deliberately place them in puddles to ferment,
then drink the tepid water like a dirty martini.
I suppose although elephants never forget,
they sometimes wish they could.
I've never felt so animal.
1200 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
12th Apr 2011 8:55pm
12th Apr 2011 8:55pm
Emo Sapiens
What a whiny, wussy,
pathetic bunch of losers.
But I can't even call you that;
you're so young
you haven't had the time
to lose anything.
You think you know about
heartbreak?
Your heart isn't even done
growing.
Leave that poor guy alone
who made the mistake of paying
for your meals for two months,
that girl who held her breath long enough
to hold your hand in public...
That's not love.
Love is two eighty year olds
passed on within three months
because one wouldn't live
without the other.
Last time I checked...
pathetic bunch of losers.
But I can't even call you that;
you're so young
you haven't had the time
to lose anything.
You think you know about
heartbreak?
Your heart isn't even done
growing.
Leave that poor guy alone
who made the mistake of paying
for your meals for two months,
that girl who held her breath long enough
to hold your hand in public...
That's not love.
Love is two eighty year olds
passed on within three months
because one wouldn't live
without the other.
Last time I checked...
1782 reads
52 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Apr 2011 7:35am
10th Apr 2011 7:35am
Citrine dreams and lemon-zest riffs
I can feel her vibes like backbeat
keeping my head nodding, nodding.
As she spins throughout the night,
leaving waves of unmellow yellow
rocking me in her wake—but, hell, I love it.
Citrine dreams and daffodils
fall fast upon my senses,
and all I can do is dance along her footsteps
down that yellow brick road,
but she's laying those golden ingots
and she's the rainbow at the end.
So DJ pump those speakers
and let the lemon-zest riffs lead us on.
** Written for the "Romance" thread, in which I had to use...
keeping my head nodding, nodding.
As she spins throughout the night,
leaving waves of unmellow yellow
rocking me in her wake—but, hell, I love it.
Citrine dreams and daffodils
fall fast upon my senses,
and all I can do is dance along her footsteps
down that yellow brick road,
but she's laying those golden ingots
and she's the rainbow at the end.
So DJ pump those speakers
and let the lemon-zest riffs lead us on.
** Written for the "Romance" thread, in which I had to use...
1485 reads
12 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
9th Apr 2011 5:34am
9th Apr 2011 5:34am
Evil
Humid moisture in the air:
it saps the body
of its will to work,
rusts away the machines
constructing our monuments
to the beauty of humankind,
erodes and corrodes
every noble work
we dream up.
Silly barometric priests:
we cannot defeat it,
eradicate or beat it.
All we can do
is persevere
in our noble works,
building up in hope
that we will outgain it
for the time being.
it saps the body
of its will to work,
rusts away the machines
constructing our monuments
to the beauty of humankind,
erodes and corrodes
every noble work
we dream up.
Silly barometric priests:
we cannot defeat it,
eradicate or beat it.
All we can do
is persevere
in our noble works,
building up in hope
that we will outgain it
for the time being.
1068 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Apr 2011 10:55pm
1st Apr 2011 10:55pm
Straight from the heart
Writing a poem
"straight from the heart"
is like serving wheat
for dinner.
It needs to be shucked
and picked apart,
keeping only the tastiest bits
and tossing the chaff.
Add one cup of metaphors,
veils and allusions to taste,
but keep out all those pithy
processed ingredients.
It needs baking
to a warm brown crust,
to look appetizing on the plate
so readers want to partake.
Only then can poetry be enjoyed.
And if it's done perfectly,
it will bring out the truly
succulent flavors of the...
"straight from the heart"
is like serving wheat
for dinner.
It needs to be shucked
and picked apart,
keeping only the tastiest bits
and tossing the chaff.
Add one cup of metaphors,
veils and allusions to taste,
but keep out all those pithy
processed ingredients.
It needs baking
to a warm brown crust,
to look appetizing on the plate
so readers want to partake.
Only then can poetry be enjoyed.
And if it's done perfectly,
it will bring out the truly
succulent flavors of the...
1029 reads
12 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Mar 2011 1:22am
24th Mar 2011 1:22am
The Tally Ho
Take a plunge down the mountain,
away from the austere University
and its ivy-covered morals,
through the only two blocks left
that still qualify as "bustling," then further,
getting seedier with every downhill block
and don't change your direction
'til you've hit the river.
It's like the barkeep knew
what his bar was to become,
and picked the lowest point
to highlight the irony.
Seedier than a farm
and more wooly than a sheep,
the bouncer takes your ID
but reads your face instead.
Hands back your card...
away from the austere University
and its ivy-covered morals,
through the only two blocks left
that still qualify as "bustling," then further,
getting seedier with every downhill block
and don't change your direction
'til you've hit the river.
It's like the barkeep knew
what his bar was to become,
and picked the lowest point
to highlight the irony.
Seedier than a farm
and more wooly than a sheep,
the bouncer takes your ID
but reads your face instead.
Hands back your card...
853 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Mar 2011 6:58pm
22nd Mar 2011 6:58pm
Broken mirrors are beautiful in their own poetic way
That familiar mix of booze and starlight
mixing bittersweet in the cool night air,
and here I am to celebrate—
with my offering of powdered dreams,
crushed under the groaning weight
of latticed, structured plans
and forced to play bedrock
to a groundwork grid of years.
A sigh to the breeze to send it up.
Wandering through the old sacrificial altars,
those cracked streets
worn a thousand times by my threadbare tread
and somehow I'm hoofing it again.
Close your eyes, lift your chin to the breeze
and breathe it in. Soft, deep, let...
mixing bittersweet in the cool night air,
and here I am to celebrate—
with my offering of powdered dreams,
crushed under the groaning weight
of latticed, structured plans
and forced to play bedrock
to a groundwork grid of years.
A sigh to the breeze to send it up.
Wandering through the old sacrificial altars,
those cracked streets
worn a thousand times by my threadbare tread
and somehow I'm hoofing it again.
Close your eyes, lift your chin to the breeze
and breathe it in. Soft, deep, let...
#alcohol
#confessional
#WritingPoetry
#SelfReflection
#SelfDiscovery
1054 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Mar 2011 6:09pm
21st Mar 2011 6:09pm
The Masquerade
A masquerade ball for the ages!
Tuxedoed and ball-gowned
we picked up our masks:
I wore Comedy,
and you, Tragedy.
What perfect foils
for the perfect couple.
When we arrived
we fell to drinking,
as is the custom for people
hiding life behind the tension-lines
on their faces.
And I, being glad
that the alcohol and friends
and the bantering laughs
had me pinned into the moment,
reveled in the respite
from everything outside it.
I prescribed myself
that usual over-the-counter remedy
of beer...
Tuxedoed and ball-gowned
we picked up our masks:
I wore Comedy,
and you, Tragedy.
What perfect foils
for the perfect couple.
When we arrived
we fell to drinking,
as is the custom for people
hiding life behind the tension-lines
on their faces.
And I, being glad
that the alcohol and friends
and the bantering laughs
had me pinned into the moment,
reveled in the respite
from everything outside it.
I prescribed myself
that usual over-the-counter remedy
of beer...
910 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by mjs211 (MikeTheEngineer)
