Dan Michaelson

Her amber hair
My bulbous nose
Her silken blouse
My thrown on clothes
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A friend once wrote me and asked me a favor.
I hadn’t talked to him for awhile.
But since he’s my friend I wanted to savor.
His approval and ever missed rarified smile.
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I’m begging for time
My time is short as near as the next blow.
It would be anyway, but now I have added several “variables” to the classic tick tock of the heart and soul.
Or perhaps just the heart as you may have it.
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Congratulations.
You have received that which is taking the world down.
A not-so-new device called WE.
WE, is such an important device that “we” in our quest for the freedom of speech and expression, have offered it to YOU, the suffering soul wishing to exercise these “freedoms” that have been cherished and sought after for many a year.
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When my faith is strong
I am very meek
When my ego’s big
My faith is weak
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Where do I go, when I die?
Somewhere up there, into the sky?
Will you see me, with your eye?
When I go up in the sky.
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The Lady wore a silken blue dress for her beau to see
The old man he had to notice the day was very clear and quite windy
She would go by his porch front and twirl for him and all to see.
As if to say here I am for you my old lover, please don’t ever forget me
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As I sit here at work and ponder my lot
I seem to have time to worry a lot
About my family, my friends, my much perceived foes
It seems to me at times they contribute to my woes
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I'm scared because my family seems to be slowly withering
Is this what I have to look forward to until my time
Is this what all people have to go through.
I know it is
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A man who had a very sick insides
Went in for some physical surgery
He came out as scared as before this wild ride
Not knowing whatever could and would be
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Oh how I hate thee
This darkness inside
My dwelling so small
My eyes are so wide.
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This squiggly thing inside my top side
Is nothing and protects not a hair on my hide
Yet secretes a venomous substance that I cannot see
It limits what I eat what I do what I’ll be
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The Wrong One

A caterpillar inched up a smooth hairy stem
A spray of insecticide wasn’t meant for him
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Pieces and species and soul-holes of mine
All gathered in a place or another sometime
The write is the spout that my soul sifts on out
If I only I had a backbone, I’d clamor and shout
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The girl that came in with the aqua blue eyes,
And took my heart without any lies,
A perpetual love that I have just for her,
She’s an uncorrupt one that has an innocent allure.
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An old year withers, a new one sprouts
The people celebrate with spirits and shouts
But is this something so special to learn
Perhaps just a page of a calendar turned
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Sipping champagne from a white paper cup
Eating some Chut from a shell that was cut
Watching the sunset of orange, blue and red
I’ll remember this day until I am dead
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