In restless sleep,
I walked as Lilith,
wrath-bound.
With Lucifer beside me,
his shadow aflame.
The earth groaned heavy
with the weight of lies,
And power’s rot festered
in gilded halls.
The great house rose,
pale as a corpse.
Its walls steeped in
the blood of betrayal.
A serpent sat enthroned,
his crown of corruption,
A monument to tyranny’s
decay.
In my dreams, I see them all,
the ones who let you slip away.
The neighbour who laced the earth with death,
letting you lap up that toxic mess,
your little body wracked with pain,
stumbling, lost, into the street,
only feet from your own front door,
Perhaps they didn’t want to pay for a professional.
The driver who did not apply the brakes,
who felt the bump and carried on,
leaving you alone, afraid,
dying on the roadside,
Only feet from the safety of your home.
Perhaps they wanted to get home to the football.
Did you forget about me?
Because the phone never rings,
No words, no care, no space for me,
Just because I cut my strings.
Did you forget about me?
Love? Oh, that’s just a line,
Because if you’re poor, or different.
Then you’re ignored and left behind.
Did you forget about me
‘Cause in your eyes, I’m a mess?
A misfit in your perfect show,
Yes, I’m a failure, I confess.
Did you forget about me?
When you cut me, no second chance.
Is it because I dared to criticise,
And wouldn’t take part in your dance?
Bound
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 14-15
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal the Lantern in 1976. I have made slight changes here and there, but the poem is essentially the same as what I wrote in my early teens.
These are my modern English translations of ancient Greek poems and epigrams by Sophocles, including antinatalist poems and epigrams.
It’s a hundred times better not be born;
but if we cannot avoid the light,
the path of least harm is swiftly to return
to death’s eternal night!
Sophocles (circa 497-406 BC), Oedipus at Colonus, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Not to have been born is best,
and blessed
beyond the ability of words to express.
—Sophocles, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
These are my modern English translations of poems by the Russian poet Alexander Pushkin.
I Loved You
by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I loved you ... perhaps I love you still ...
perhaps for a while such emotions may remain.
But please don’t let my feelings trouble you;
I do not wish to cause you further pain.
God forbid if something terrible happens and I lose my eyesight.
I would miss the smile on my mother's face shining with glow and always bright.
My brothers would have tears in their eyes seeing me like this,
and would never indulge in a friendly fight.
My world would be in darkness though there would be light.
I won't be able to take lonely walks on the streets, would require help by plight.
I know you say you have a heart
But I really don’t think that’s true
Because this crippling pain I’m feeling
Was caused by none other than you
You told me that you had my back
And with that you made me glow
Now my shadow’s still behind me
But where on earth did you go?
You warned me not to love you
But pulled me in at the same time
Even though I somewhat agreed with you
I tried to make you mine
You reached in through my rib cage
Snapped my heartstrings one by one
But I still stood beside you
I am drowning in my pain
Spinning faster and faster
I closed my eyes to escape
From my momentary lapse of reason
In my grave reality of my demise
But there is nowhere to hide
In a world of complete emptiness
I am going under faster and faster
Feeling nothing but helplessness
And everything was still
Just as hope seemed to have faded
There was shelter in the distance
That shelter was you and I felt warm
And everything was still
Even from the depths of my mind
I knew I was trapped frozen in time
And so it begins..
The innocent little ones are broken
Their sanity and dreams stolen
Violently without words spoken
So badly beaten and bruised
Little ones left weeping and confused
As they silently shed their tears in fear
And no one ever seems to hear
How their voices shake when they speak
And no one ever seems to see
How they tremble when their defenseless and weak
Little ones lives can be very bleak.
~Broken187Soul~
Copyright 01-16-17
