mike ruthenbeck

If I were to die on this very night
In some ill-fated turn of misfortune
I would want for it to be known forthright
that there is nothing I would have undone.
...

The truest irony of all, perhaps,
In relating past, future, and present,
Is seeing the way the roads on the maps
All lead only to some random event
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This structure of rhythm, da Dum da Dum,
Forces the words flowing out from the hand
Iambs will heighten the feelings to come
While leaving the treasure deep in the sand
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What became of the bottomless Vessel?
How could such a mass roil and boil?
The steam and water pour from the trestle
Uselessly dripping forth onto soil.
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Swaying, yet sturdy, in the strong breezes
So high I can see the curve of the Earth
The passing of Winter's epic freezes
Is observing Spring's spectacular birth
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And late at night, when you're sitting alone
Wake dreaming of the loves' you've relinquished
Cyclones of failure you've now quite outgrown
Flames of urges your heart has extinguished
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For you now, the final following act
At least, until my now-self departing,
Patiently finding the words with most tact,
Cogitating on the coarse here charting
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I need for there to be more than what's here
This life has become too residential
Somehow everything will just disappear
...

Perched, nearly dangling, hundreds of feet high
I sit, and stare at the surf underfoot
and the grass, dry as rocks, rustles and sighs
revitalization rises from soot.
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Should such lowly redneck apparition...
Myself; most slothful, nonsense protégé,
Undeserving any recognition
Think of telling you what to do today?
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Poor wretch am I, and woe is my fated
Journey over horizon, long waited.
Current suspension of animation
Manifesting want of exclamation;
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Rapid river boil's blossum brilliant
Liquid petals turning, and reforming;
Glist'ning sun diamonds burning resilient,
Bald eagle, overhead, simply soaring...
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Tell me, Muse, what pays the current going
Rate of reason, if you please, existing,
What ways, true friend, are you others showing
What Beacon shinning on coastline misting?
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Oh, Luna, in most splendid ardour keen
Aloft! Vieled behind such misty curtain
Basking the sea in milky ether sheen
While the breeze, sighing gently, most certain-
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Standing now, mid-ship on a starboard tack,
Close hauled, just aft of the flogging Genoa’s lee,
Clutching a shroud as I peer in the black-
Ness of night upon the lonely high seas.
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this merger of minds in the dark of night
and well after midnight's toll being strumm'd
acoustic riffs play a meal with delight,
company in perfect harmony humm'd -
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The road, in so long an unwanted wait
Has arrived before me once again now
The old boldness growing inside of late
Goades driving faster than limits allow!
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In any case, there are two kinds of men
Or so the saying would have you believe
There's them who have not, and them who have been
Those who destroy, those who offer reprieve
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Such a splendind gift, did i see today!
A face radiating beauty and grace
Her body moved as though dancing ballet
Eyes alarmingly lock, blinking in pace
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my dear! do you see these lines of worry?
etching my face, for reasons i know not
while outside the winter's snows in flurry
blow wildly around in drifts, as it aught.
...