A Reflection on Mortality

Who am I to have faith in the watercolor notion
of human civilization? Though it may unchain us
from the mundanity of survival,
      I do not want freedom;
therein lies an invitation to loss, a wide door
into Death’s labyrinth, souls mired amidst
the dusk-like sediment of complacent fears.
      We exhaust in pleasure,
wilt from loneliness.
      And self-mockery is all that sketches us out
as living, breathing, mobile if not
consequential beings.
      We do not ripen.
Some impurity prevents our soft blossoming
in the transcendent ecology.

Needful desire will not sustain.
I will run and run and run
until my essence washes across the timeline.
      Capture me in the strokes of a moment.
Forever is not always
      but an indelible once.

*

Copyright 2014 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

You Don’t Have Time to Read; I Don’t Have Time to Write

________ _______ ___ ______ __ __ _______?
_____ _________ __ _____ __ ____ _____.
___ ______ __ _______ ___
( Anything ___ _____. )

___ _______ __ ______ ______ __–________,
________ ____ _____ __ _________ ___–
__ ___________ _ __________?
_______ __ is _______ __ ________
___ ________ _______ ____ __.

Possible __ ____, ________ ___?
____ _ ___________ ___ ______
( ______ ___. )

The Wall

It was when I got ahead of myself
That I ran right SMACK!
Into a wall.

It was only later when
I caught up to myself
That the wall

Had a handle

And became a door that
I opened and walked
Right through.

Luckily for me, I had not been
Injured terribly when I had
Run into the wall;

Otherwise, I could not have
Walked through that door
And would not

Be here

Telling you these strange
Tales.

*

Copyright 2008 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

The Policy That Failed

Woven are the sparkling strands
In fickle, fickle hands
Wan from lifting moral lids
Proud exertion never did.
‘Twas lost the sight of shared uplift:
“Your turn first and then my shift.”
The viscera of trust has surely gone:
The Golden Goose lays no eggs
Ever on . . .

*

Copyright 2008 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

Spam a Lot

For some reason, I have been getting a lot of entertaining spam comments lately on WordPress. This one never fails to crack me up:

“Beverage h2o rather than soda in the course of personal computer activity actively playing periods. Way as well considerably comfortable drink will bring about you to definitely crash and melt away physically (let on your own the large calories). Drinking water keeps you hydrated and can truly compel you to take further toilet breaks – which in a natural way helps you take these required breaks throughout online video sport perform.”

Oh, translation software, thy name is comedy . . .

Hello All

Sorry for the prolonged absence. I have been busy working on a couple of books I hope to have available in the near future as well as other projects. Exhausting to say the least.

One of the in-progress book projects is a compilation of poetry with the working title Rhythmic Inertia. I hope to have it available for purchase by the end of the month. I know there aren’t a lot of people who actually buy poetry books, so it is a bit of a quixotic quest trying to sell them to people. I’m fine with that. My goal is not sell thousands of copies but to get on as many people’s bookshelves as I can even if that ends up only being a few dozen people. It’s still a tremendous honor to be recognized in that way by even one person. I would, however, also like to be able to call myself a “paid writer” rather than an unpaid one. I’m very close to that distinction and just need to sell a few more copies of my work to attain that title. That would mean a lot to me too.

So, please consider shelling out a few bucks to make a struggling artist’s day. In any case, happy reading :-)

Oh, P.S. Also consider buying a copy of my other poetry book Contemplative Moorings. There’s a link to it on my Bibliography page if you’re interested.

So Boring

“We’re drawn away from gods toward rotting refuse,
for gods entice none. They possess being and naught
but being . . . Serenely, like swans over the eternity
of its unplumbed surface: so the god glides and
dives and preserves his purity.”

–Rainer Maria Rilke

*

All the words have been said; all the deeds done,
So where these days, can we find our fun?
Even the extremes seem dumb:
War? poverty? ho-hum.
The ravages of disease?
    Oh, please . . .
And don’t get me started on this insipid economy!
Have you lost your job? lost your home?
We’ve been doing that desperate dance since Rome
    when Nero fiddled
        while his home sizzled
And ashes became his throne:
        empire blown!
But it all just makes me yawn . . . .
My get-up-and-go has got-up-and-gone!
Won’t you elevate my mood?
Where’s the stimulus plan for my attitude?
Bring on the scandal already!
Throw me a party with salacious confetti:
    throw lies and murder into the air;
Light festive candles on a sordid affair.
It’s none of my business, but I don’t care!
Only tales of tragedy bring me alive.
By the gace of suffering, I survive:
        as you decay, I thrive;
    you are the compost, and I am the rose.
That’s always how it goes.
It’s the way of the world, as everyone knows,
When everything that’s said and done
        by anyone and everyone . . . . . .

Oh! I’m done with writing this stupid thing!
It’s just soooooooo booooooring!

*

Copyright 2009, 2014 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

Remember (For Memorial Day)

Remember: a soul is scarred when it bears witness
to the human animal stripped to its most aggressive
frailties. The knowledge of guns, of bombs, of
unquenchable fires, it is those that burn
the within.

Remember: who went to war may not come home
and never the same.

Remember: the greatest crime against liberty is
indifference.

Remember. It is a small thing, to keep an image of the
bravery, the sacrifice, the honor of service held tight
in memory, for such a thing can never repay the debt
owed to men, to women lost to us in the great
struggle.

But it can mean the world just not being forgotten.
Tell them “thank you”; tell them that you are
forever grateful; tell them:

We will remember.

*

Copyright 2009 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

Lovely Spam, Wonderful Spam

Today, I received the most elaborately odd spam comment on
my post Premontion. Tell me if you can decipher what they
are trying to sell here:

Woman Bodybuilding is absolutely a way of life choice many females make without initially pondering what it might entail to become one particular of many Feminine bodybuilders. They stumble into this discipline mainly because of the should be nutritious and healthy after which find out which they essentially like it. Woman bodybuilding is increasing in attractiveness on a yearly basis. Bodybuilding can be a significant competitive sport. Female bodybuilding is simply planning to proceed to achieve in acceptance.Regardless of you are a sports lover or simply just a Tv admirer, personal a sports activities look at is really an intriguing factor. The sport watches are usually multifunctional, even you can not use it as much as those that are into sporting activities a whole lot, they are really nevertheless helpful and you would hardly ever assumed it a waste of cash to possess. You are able to usually opt to buy a sport check out on PickEgg, both equally the value as well as perform may give you a fantastic shock.

Eh?

I Think I’ll Stop Writing (Self-Satire)

I think I’ll stop writing
Because I am producing what
So few people want to read.

I think I’ll stop writing
Because others will pick up
The slack. There is no shortage
Of words out there. One voice
Lost from the crowd will go
Unremarked upon.

I think I’ll stop writing
Because of all the celebrated
White noise and the knowledge
That so many do not wish to
Bolster literacy but revel in
Its downfall.

I’ll think stop writing
Because, perhaps, I am just
Envious of every poem and story
And anecdote more memorable
Than any of my own.

I think I’ll stop writing
But here I am again typing
My ideas into your consciousness.
I . . .

I think I’ll stop writing
This poem and start writing
Something else. I think by now
I’ve convinced myself to abandon
Self-fulfilling pity and defy even
My own expectations.

*

Copyright 2014 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.