michael witkowski - poems - poemhunter.commilk white. pure as nothing- as nothing in this world is...

Poetry Series

Michael Witkowski- poems -

Publication Date: 2006

Publisher:Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

Michael Witkowski(14 July 1973) Single child of Am a loud & proud Aspie (= Asperger Syndrome autist) .Born inPoland, emigrated to the then West Germany 1986. Father abandonned me &Mum in 1981 for the then West Germany. Member of amnesty international,Bronte buff. I am reserved, silly, coy, childish, wistful, sulky, sullen, grumpy,miffy, cheerful.I have published a poem collection of mine titled 'Caramel Goat And HumanMess Bitter Almond' on in 2004/2005Meanwhile i plaster The Dream Machine Web Poetry Corner with my piecesunreleased here:Follow my ramble in my Live Journal- username scousered How gorge is Hannoverian litarate scene! spring of 2005, i'd found the Hannoverian (subcultural) literature forum SublitHannover , bacame hokked onto it, published my German bits in tthere, havelaods of laugh on there and finally, on August 12,2006, i perfomrem two of myGerman short stories at the culture & music &art venue cafe Kulturpalast LindenLast night. Aug.26,2006 i read two of my English poems (& translates them live)at the International Open Mic in the said venue, the Kulturpalast I keep various blogs: (German) , The then newest stumble-on for me: and - As for content: The URLs are telling. Other tripstones: andTry to coin it! ( This project i almost forgot about, still waiting realzation: Mi next projects are ananswer to CB's sayings on teaching and other bits, and the last 6 days in the lifeof Sophie Scholl- but this only after viewing the film 'Sophie Scholl - Die LetztenTage' depicting errr..., the last 6 days of Sophie Scholl up to her execution-guillotining - in Berlin-Plötzensee)

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A Hair Brush Shadows are cricling around my headAnd i cannot bother to sink deeperRevolt shines through my bare bonesbut who i can oppress i know not Give me a smattering of literacyTo see the blue inside your headif you dropp a key to the foor, my boneswill follow and catch it up like a lost tennis ball The key rings memories inside my headA glue of yanks and twists, both erasedfrom posterity- which course does the key show?An open keyhole or a narrow door- peeping Peeping is not allowed but i touch her brushit swings to my mirth like a rocking chair- icould paint her with her own hairs- a wavyspindley dark buildling - ginger brown Michael Witkowski


A Paper Chain This wordy chain i shall give youA rope around your neck- ittwists your self but you willnot cringe or bother Tree salad flattenedMilk white. pure asNothing- as nothing inthis world is pure. Onthis flattened tree saladi pour my chain of drools,Doodles between two linesSee if those hooks fitthe space in-between Or this be my vision as mydeeeds do not match my wishhere i stand, facing the groupno scribbled whiteness todefend my case, a letdown on the whole line the group and i clashedand we exchanged nicetiesimpomptu heartfelt wishesi uttered to the parting onesno embrace i did get butit would not be true andappropiate murky awkward businessdone away with ordinarilywhat can we pack thosein their bagpacks, to whomwe do not relate best.Usual sun, light house,watch and an umbrellaThese never fail


Michael Witkowski


Adventures In An Attic- Anne Cycle Part 2 Oh pundit my punditsIn my dad’s despairWhere have you been? Last night I modelled inThe sun for my Dad’s picsThe Anne Pic Portfolio Growing like a horseAnother pose for the ghostOf the light fighting the death Ah I wax gloomy these daysBut ‘tis only a brief hollerI pick myself up, wrap in cosy shawls And purge what isn’t AnnesqueFrom my bright cheer- I will see!Sunday a type caught my eye Such a witty stunner- his smileCombusted all sulks and vapoursMy dad nicked on the Beeb- pin For the latest victory on the tableI must stick the pin in the right spot for himWhere took swipe at those who Locked us in this attic- a rat’s cageOh the blooming church bell across the garden streetChimes again- to remind of the time wasted But I am young, I want to live. Flirt, ohHow blessing is the mixed tumble of feelingsDown my tum, my heart tingling, my face ablaze With flushes beaming at the cheery face of PeterHe might be shy but he’s here – they only boyAnd I understand him like he understands me


We need each other in this rat’s casemateWhile the Van de Pels discipline meAnd the dentist ticks me off for being Ungirly- where did he get his fuddy-duddyIdeas from, this cranky old codger?Maybe ‘cos he’s been drilling the teeth too much Such as he must have a wont for paining live beings!Like any doctor he pontificates on what’s good,Sound and sane!Oh terrible are humans on their outside- nag each other,Miff each other Do not let each others live, but squeeze each othersInto their own mouldsWhy why why but hey I still- always believe that menHave good hearts- but they only need to realise Their potential- it depends on themselves, forParents can only give help and advice- soGo out boisterous into the world, form yourselfAnd the world with you ‘Tis an adventure dealing with fussy bossy peoplecrowded in a rat box- a dungeon moreover-how gothic, how romantic- ‘tis willlook good in my bestseller – oh I know I’ll be famous- I am not like every other girlBecause I live in this attic – oh how tinklingIt is to be quarrelling all the time, Still I believe they are good at heartThis I will prove to them even thoughThey will faint in disbelief- they will go: “ Oh this crazed unruly teenager,someone teach her manners, witha little push she’ll grow up soonerthan she thinks. She is just a wee


confuzzled, messed up puppy. We adults know the world and willShow to her how it works” Michael Witkowski


Anne Frank Where! -Anne Cycle Part 1 Anne Frank where are youWhere you are trees grownWrens sing larks chantWrens chirp, corws crowAshes somewhere- spread,Mixed with soilWind blows- you find them inAmsterdam, Chicago, JakartaI feel am lazy. So I make a bowl fullMuesli - pour refreshing, fridgedMilk onto choccie sickled half hollow shellsAnd crusty com hued flakes-thinking of youYe know, I'd chat you up, if you'd have grown to be olderAnd I travelled in time- I know l'll chat your sis up! Michael Witkowski


Aulde Schole Return to the old schoolthose spacy roomsbourgeois furnitureplants sundrycrust habitsinstallation institutions structures heavysag me to mysore profounds- butshine a floodlight imay only - nota searchlight, candleor reading lampalthough thelast waits in the cornerof hypnosis installation the hypnotizer isclicked on, bringsunlived moods, farviews, unlived butyearned hopes intothe small spacy chamberif chamber be expandedswapped for a tiny butroomy wordly - freshair and worldlightstreaks and flashes-(like a) flasher, streakerand mooner - nota mingy mincing moonerbut a proud one. i bring triomino, uno,ligretto, carcassonnescotland yardinto these small spacymurky


hypnotic chambers aquarells i strengthenFruits of midnightblind scrawl paintingwith marie. oh weeeay blesspush the dustaway. uno is known nursery play Michael Witkowski


Bawlbowll-Elegiette One hittwo hitsMissed - on purposeGrenade blue death ballpurrs softly egglikeon goalClap clap clap thundering clap Michael Witkowski


Beardy Sulks Swim among those manyi see two known faces on bodieswhich accompanied me herehe sulks- shields his emotionsfrom outside touch- neveraccosting to earlier contactthe group poured rain clouds -ever-of criticism down on himhe kept up his smiling comic facesidestepping any question marks she swims alone from onedepth to the other - on seeinghim sulk we swap understandingsmiles- but i prefer freedomof not jumping in where she felthis inner policyaccosting only as much as it isdesired - to maintain her attention-'I'm fine' when i soothedher peeve with stroking, pats Michael Witkowski


Brief Tsunami Hymn-Elegy Travellers roundthe historyTouch the dandelionwith your left fingerAnd convey the seedOnto the putrid palmtree.Lancets hang on the palmGlisten in exuberating airAbandonned smeary fatiguein rational hillsTo attain Bothar divineBe it alas by aidOf inebriationLubricate jointsSmoothen surfacesExtend in completeSolar radiance Earth lifted seatil see cameto conquer new landblue, greendrives surfsnow mixed with earthplays not beach volleyballwormy taste of water pierced our teethall woods, carpets, markets, hoods floatin despair in mud humansequal cratesliquid earth oozes forth withblighting purr alongbothars, cathairs and baile morsand baile beagsplants will not root


in this fluent earthsurf throughpatches ofmudspread with blankets,foils, red, black, greyice cools the heapsunderneath Michael Witkowski


Bufffoon's Feelings If you trespass privacy-transgress intimate borders-deceive decency- you'lllay yourself open to spitemockery and disdain- 'Look,our buffoon! ' He performs abrill show today- but don'ttreat him seriously as hedoesn't have feelings in himselfhe didn't respect ours orwas he too blind to see them Michael Witkowski


Cabbie B would drive me homei thought - so imagined himand filled myself with fearand awkward disincline i dare not open myselfbe polite to him thoughhe be my friend ofteni confessed my inside- so not now- changeChange my routineplace a new modelfor old routines Michael Witkowski


Canston Pastoral I under the jasmin tree cherries grewin bushels of bushestheir boughs reaching earthto thank earth for the food and truth that pumped its ruby fruits to to the fullthe red scent spreadsfrom the stems to the windaepans framed white in english cottage style nigh the village well under the grumpy lookof the village sire andthe pub cantor the goblins andimps chased the faries round the market the carpenter and mason repaired themarket cross for thenext Shire Market for Canstondurst not heap shaming blame on themselves Canston played many neighbouring hamletsin the game of footybut recently its loutish ladshad themselves effemnated on ginger ale- so.. Michael Witkowski


Cells Go Up In Smoke itha, you do notrecognize the snow that's fallenthat dust has turned to greythat the tide has comeand ebb withdrawn when smoke changes all to dustand smithereens gleam in the fair firethen you have change- cut off the wirethat ties you to your blinding wardrobeas in this wardrobe you always find the habit- your cherished, belovedthat equally pains you too as it painsothers- a rough linen habit of a sinnercoarse to your skin -it makes you itch?don't you see the rash of your skin? be a sinner not- reward your sinnedagainst skin and sinned against airand earth and flesh- these tiredquestions about caves in your mindand cells that are not born again they only trigger spite -turn mellow mindsagainst you Michael Witkowski


Cinnamon Goat A right cinnnamon goat he wascinnnamon peppered him onshy on the dance floorthought himself be stepping forwardby not sitting not gapingravished under scope-lightay a friend-who mocks your raillery Michael Witkowski


Colchester Castle I Read a Lego fort on a cow paradise hillcows' dreams bit stunted but bricks all stand out craggedpetrified cross-section of a cakeor flesh -a nuts choccie cake we all glutton on mingled with sand and coals or wounds in menturned to stone or a quarry just abused- see mewalk up to the wooden moat bridge, touch itsx-cross railings, grin at the tourists, throw a shy glance then head to round vaulted entrance-behold the tall sombre blue windows -herei meet molly - i offer her shillingsand protestations of passion and a marriage proposal - of course she wasfar overwhelmed to bid a Nay- but behindthe corner tower boudicca's stray shadeswept across the boughs - stoned me on foot and onthe spot - a stoned stone. Michael Witkowski


Colibri She cut photos,Images, gluedthem togetherinto collages Look! A colibri!The tiniest birdLike a butterflyIndeed Her barearms - milkypinky whitesoft china straddled withfleshy redrailway lines caught nappingin her world Peeking peek-a-boo Railway linesplay hide and seek Michael Witkowski


Confirmation I long to return to sadnessWhich i know best It is curious, you see- why i wouldDamage my soul with earnest Where all things strive for joyI included - no esxceptionStand not above laws of natureI act like other things In sadness i feel my realityThe sad undertone of myHearing Feeling TastingConfirms my life Michael Witkowski


Diary, Excuse Me! dear diary, ineglected you some days daily routines anddemands other humans stood in the way overpowering feelings iwalked, nay, strutted off in a circle -stimming- or spoke in acosy ear - it looked at me, listened to commit feelings toyou would be to affirm them but i pushed them away or letlayers of future slip upon them in a diary i am the senderand receiver but phoning i reach a mind entwined with me fora moment, for an hour, for now Michael Witkowski


Disentangle Disentangle myselfJerk at my tendonsStabs in my selfnessMy room - stabs, cutsPuncturesUnwarrantedMy self pulled, usedTorn out of itsShellIt's too muchAnger bubbles upIn my chestAny tight commitmentSecond by secondStep for stepTit for tatCurb my roomThwart my growthStifle my space Michael Witkowski


Distance Back Walked from kitchenTo bedroom, gardenTo bath- remembranceSlipped into alienShoes - fever uncertainSpurred me on - hadWalked the distanceTo hospital and back Michael Witkowski


Dove Rage raving dovewhere art thou?splattering sparkleson the beachy cove? dove raving -i have been dreaming of itbetween my chores pidgeon speedingacross tall crosses ofstony graves the cruxesbury my bonesin baths washed soul,sink to the floorof all Michael Witkowski


Dubh Abhainn Blackburn Yawning at the brookof my last standthe burn whsperscoolly between stanesdragging with himearth of the lush braesi watch my demisefull control swepta gun to the throatyearn yearn my fateis fulfillled to the bittercore - hands splashedwith sticky winerise to heavens -leavinga prayer to thedoop doop singer.i like it loud. a whimsicalcoy churl spent allseeds in disgracenow i'm endowedwith a gown Michael Witkowski


Ect burnt cake smellsthe light is still oni wait for the domeher mind foreverseeks un-lost cellsIf electroconvulsionresuscitates slumberingcells....bloom on a graverope slung on my heartthey shepherd the deepblue lagoon within mestay up all tidestaying down all wavechores hunt my passability Michael Witkowski


Empty Inventory Empty floor aroun-beats pelt my eara human fixture of thisinventory here raiseshis left leg - shakesit to all sides in a mockphysiotherapy danceall that welled up isdeafened by the beatssikkidim eternally puckeringup mouths to throw kissesin a steady rhythm- mymy body tosses out allanger & welled upmatter with dance Michael Witkowski


Ennui Pleasure is good to handWhere pleasure growsNight wil not exist- This is black andWhite paintingTruth's where truth is. Lack of connectionsNetworks, frames causeMy free fall through space Yesterday i revolvedAround myself, not caringWhat others do or think Today desperate looksFor convenience in social nestsBreeding grooming on soft couch Michael Witkowski


Epistle To Mother You,God Is With YouHeartmountAfraid of cavesin your bodyin your selfso you gatheractiions to fillyour caves, fillyour flesh withimportance. Youwield the ruler, thewhip, the baton, lashout your tonguedissembling yourintention and wordswe your bunniesneed not yourcaress. Pat your selfon the shoulder- the soundof pats wil echo intoyour caves and youwill feel emptinessno more Michael Witkowski


Epistle To The Hound Of Baskerville Ye houndthou spoutst forthchain of gorgeousshells- wonder at themadmire 'emplease and soothe thinehound's skullnot detest themand thou too mightcraft makery Michael Witkowski


Eviction Grass as untried as on our last minute noticeEviction at the doorStorm troops carry heavy prisoner uniformed baldaquinsFor our merry bed but we feel the bonesFlesh and bones, swollen liver, ruptured kidneyStone hard bile bladderHeteronomy orders hardships for us and wandersBetween worship and faraway hut on the brink of the woodsPines rush on your pillowUnseen mares fly past your panes Michael Witkowski


Fachinger Brew This crate full of bottles-water mild to the stomach-your smile that mirrors youtolerates only that-but you churn out smokegrin, red and blackis it disgusting to servethe community- do youfeel a servant- carryingtoilsome objects to yourgroup- If you put yourshort-time pleasure asideand make your musclesscream and hurtThis water, a cool fluentbreath afterwards-rewards you not? betterserve up bubbling sourclear brew for basic joy? !forsooth, you are weak. Michael Witkowski


Fire I am scared by the fireI am scared by my selfi- whose force unknownmay drag this hand into the red imagine how my hand sizzleshow pain maims me to nervesskin changes turns red and roseblack ashes- in strife for gross behaviour in your teeth and tongues thathave scintillating orange coreand yellow tooth enameli find my joy nature free relievedof qualms and pressure Michael Witkowski


Gwen's Descent we open the round - whethergwen stefani be part italianor an abbreviated stefanianthereby remotely armenianwhile armenians might stakea claim to cheer in their dale of dolei dish the truth on the table:any descent beyond fullerton, CAis beyond decent minded fact Michael Witkowski


Hannover Medical School in your bedsa town burns awayevery year merecasualties in the sophisticatedbattle your main hall -a gey concrete upward slabtears up the sky inner hall streetspierce you & link verynook to no nook benumbconfuse poor strayfoofolk Michael Witkowski


Happy Meal Yesterday i was the master -Hadto control my talking -All i saidwould be welcome but i shouldgive others a chance to speak, notcrave to hear myself speak An hour ago, cuddles in the quiet of thesmoker's room, only our voices are heardand maybe a lonely voice from the brekkieroom - but everything mastered well and i amcentre of attention, a long missed relative asked about often, that left a gapin the net of this community, whowill eat all this yummy pudding, whowill drink the gallons of milk- whowill entertain us with his direct jibs aye the place i almost neglected,shun by an hour in fear of meetinga cold waspish person, turned outto give me a happy meal after all Michael Witkowski


Harrow Shark Which harrow shark runs berserk at the sightof oysters is a privileged question we shall notbother to answer but where merry sounds blightour souls, appear in mere bliss and disppear, lot by lotfingers shiver, spines jerk, members twitchunfantastic reaction spun by deliverance of an itch Michael Witkowski


Here And There Into the home-steadof sharing, communicationi get a preserved, pre-packedersatz -staged, non-playable playone-dimensional interactivity Move? Can i talk? My lips move.Here and there I walk between top and bottomThere, my friends lie in the basementHere, I struggled with lying prostrate on the lower top How humans diei am mazed to ashesmy circumference packshoney love in boxes if crippled head -scarfblooms across leontine facebarracks serve for dwellinga petty row of one-storeys Michael Witkowski


Hurt how hurttransplants itself from nerveto nervespreads like a flushsquahes lemon fizz like in a dashsires new anti-fathers of strengthgallops from the trunk in my backto the tree root in my crosswheezes under pressure of emotional surgewhizzes past brandnew alarm signsred-lights new imagesinvokes old hyenasbeseeches leprechauns of the night to stage a mazed playtricks the consciencei thought about oftenbut came to a conclusion:dream of silvery narcosis infull awakeness Michael Witkowski


Idlety Idleness in vanityIs a serious witchcraftDespond on slough of mares inwhich gargoyling breeches breezeWith ease and temper thrusts shallow marksof temperance running havoc in havarieof sullen oysters. Ye shall not blink at oysters' fate, where mares insulky shallowness daftgrabple with charity Michael Witkowski


Jeopardy In The Water swimming withdinosaurs. thisfuture i need to fathomand digesttheir Armouredskin repels me likethe tingle of onionvapours in my eyesseasoned brownthe trace of manysunbaths in open airand assault by coarseair, bile from withinand other maladiestheir shape still resemblestheir kind but alasflowing away to the vagueand nondescripttheir steps in waterproceed like crocodilesor snakes- but agedand decayingwill all beauty in the waterdrwaw my eyes away fromthe scaly legged tanks -I hope so. Michael Witkowski


Kendrick Spotted Itha... If Kendrick meets Itha, every daywould you say he loves her?Someone unknown made up thatconvention which behavoir becomesdifferent forms of relationships Aye he loved her someone judgedwith decided certainty because as a rulewho loves visits often- no handbook neededHumans know humans but Kendrick visitedItha for courtesy and sense of belonging - Itha was someone to watch and nurse andworry about -At least through her he foundhis sense and use - changing her for the betterhe imagined her beauty frees from dust of wearand illness- after months of his toil to save her She was a girl who waited for him - who stood upfor him even it took patient persuasion like witha stubborn child in a petulant phase but heinvisioned her tall, aged body not seasoned by age nor wrinkled by decades glisten with joyas it did in brief spells- last, he has wearied of his toy Michael Witkowski


Lame-A streaks of sun bless myvoidwhere not a time beginsall exasperations end mustn't thou learnt toswim or can't ye- thou canstlearn it cheaper ina club - her swipenext to: what areyou mumbling? a lamb hums herexplosive pronounced t'sthe sesame to her mindalways straightly linearbehind the tool of t's hidesit wants rage to somersault not jog or walk- theychallenge poise - equilibriumnot. Scales are tipped toone side but which things?if sesame's environmenttightens muscles for a benign expression,then my sun wakes Michael Witkowski


Lasting Lasting feelingWill goCatch words i cannotAll disappearsVoidFrostMingles with dust'Not grappling lostsands! 'Sands shift betweenMy toes Michael Witkowski


Laurel Path Laurel wears my headSesame gilts my sweatycountenanceThus i breach the worldCaring and tossingPluck up courageOff smithereens of disgustCoy swallows fly pastmy sightBut i walk on, walk onThrough water over mireThrough despond over slough Michael Witkowski


Lush Milk Cow Meads Cows moon on the feasty lushunder their feet silky strandsof earth's hair- punky green-the Earth is a punk but in summer haze,in summer drought-Earth grows 80s coolblonde hair wind waves haira grass hairdo unsettledcopious sourcefor white flow creamy bland sweetnoone sees through it preternatural drinkfor a man but heharvests fruits of beingswhich he defeated i hear a loud outrageous crystartle the walls and treeshow dare you think ofhuman milk industry cows moon-walkon Earth's punk hairdoagricultural marketing agencylauded the moon-walk in elation. Michael Witkowski


Maths Pet after actionacciddent pushes familyout of bandsshe came with atriangle, ruler and circlein geometry, she wasan ace at schooli put maths teacher'spet's dresses onnot easy to feeda hyperactive geometrywhizadult.fear-tear bustles aroundmepotters with lines andtrianglesi will erect a Nana-esque circle! Michael Witkowski


May Hay rippled wordshush up goldenstreaks of hayin May-sun glimmers onoutcast reindeerat rosebush stones-silver moon gleamswith ten harvest spellsacross wintery bay Michael Witkowski


Meaning Meaning....Wrap your pencil around a ballOf wool and call it a word- WhatEver you put in it, it stays in the ballFor the length of your life, so battlewith those who say your signs arenot wordsAnd you create words! Michael Witkowski


Methamorphosis Of Hair Her hair brush grew overnightinto a wide flat umbrellaHer force slid off her brushand into her tongue Strictly rigid she looked-her hair brush- but alasi felt the home fire with herwe missed the coffee machine's readinessa mile of pats she beamed atbut now she poured forceinto her brawn and mouth we were lost in ourmutual voice and facesbut now she practises herperemptive tongue lash around me, around us the mobrumours she receives mobbingfor the uncivility in which she rebuffsattention of others but i need a warm objectoutside of me that feelsand acts as if it were insideof me- not a strange heap Michael Witkowski


Miss Shlabee's Pores Miss Shlabee stormedthe weather in her castlea grandloquent capricious matterwith brigs in turrets andmeandering potluck haste each tile shone with fearat the look of lubricioussponge but alas it shone whichsufficed the grand hag's wishesfor serendipity- in hungry famine Miss Shlabee nibbled ather castle tiles -maybe, so hercalculation, her teeth will rasp offbit of hardness, gold and shinefood was organic matter to Miss Shlabee which she despisedbut prided herself of being thefirst human robot on the rockymoon earth- lick the spurious metaloff shiny surfaces was her adage- for nuptials she wore a coatingof pure gold warm in coldand icy in heat- festive luxuryshe sweated with all her pores-salty and chocolate sweet Michael Witkowski


Molly weemolly be a gentlewoman soher selfwished a gentlewoman earnsher living by her own hands-not by goinginto service-terrible angst ofa 10 yearsold shefound a goodmistress--nurse Michael Witkowski


Musings On The Juice I am learnedi recite ZeusAgrippa, HomerAnaximandrosPersephonedrying the earthin summer byclimbing downinto the Hadeswhere Hadeslures her withjuicy grenadineoh nor for keepsjuice means fraudI have the juiceI am the juiciet juiceJuice feeds the tellyJuice enblazesthe incandescent lampJuice kills, juice frieslong live the juiceout of the Tetrapakwe habe juice insideNoone dreamt upa Humanfruit-squeezer yetWhat do humanfruitkernels look like? Michael Witkowski


My Tomb You rest in my tomb- ITurn my face to you- EatYour bleached bony cheeksWith my empty black eyeSockets as you smile withyour hollow eye sockets And we drift away to the placesWe held hands - I tousled yourFalling curvy treses briwn asShoeshine and you gleamed inMy words but now our bed-Worm infested - smells of time Michael Witkowski


Mythoughts - Drivel-Sands My thoughts, my thoughtsdon't leave Me.Do not fall asleepI am chasing YouIn my cornersShut I the windowOr stare at myself from the inside?Icy shush wingssmother cheese cakebolten up drivel-sands Stare at myselfFrom outside- NeverBroken glass hoversBefore my face - Or doI not realize itsbroken Face? Michael Witkowski


Near Ripples Wavy ripples unsettledthe table mirror- lakejoyous cry and avid breathsoak the mirror's soft empireit does flow through my fingers know you not, a step apartthose lie who had no choiceto marvel and revel in owtbut in their castigated pridemoulded rest near our resting joy Michael Witkowski


Nerves In A Socket trample on my feetyou will never lace my mindwith your own silverspoon however mighty worthy youdeemed your silverspoon may bepasssed on many tracks and byways from the celestine river that yourgrandpa general crossed in wintry nightssuffocating the rebels with his brittle sword yank out your past make it minejerk it out of your plug socket- see the sparkthat's the electrocution coming down your nerves Michael Witkowski


No Meaninggist Mindsoul Is Mine - Prelude To It Is onlypoetry paintingreality - ben, but, fairy-hairy-imaginary?No! Assocation of wordstrailing one another - flowingmembers of an anchor chain pulledfrom behind the eye socketsthey follow an inner logicmind gargoyles themincessantlya new year's eveof shells strippedof charge, signifiedrelation of signifiersamong one anotherannulled Michael Witkowski


North-East-Baths Close circle- wein it, have bubblesscore our skins Smile- long and wide,flat mouthed- turns to me-helmet of sunnyhay waves we joint our handsoutstretched in the middleoh ghost of the pool pasthwot wilt thou tell us. Michael Witkowski


Ondulated Promise Poem Something missingand i do not feellike writingthis hurt insideis better kept insidebecause i don't find a ventif a chain of letters hoped forexpected- sure- isn't hereand twilight shines on the stringsbetween me and a cherished friendtwo promises made but brokeni do not want meander intrite sayings butrationalise the sorrow away withphilosphering- what is a promise -etymologically? a thing foretold, sentforth- then, another truism hops to the spotand bolsters up the first: future is never suretruism where i dare to look, sad onslaughtscarve my thoughts in your head, my blindnessblindfolds your speech, menace remains Michael Witkowski


Orders Muddled Up This floor under my backit touches me in few spotsa cushion it can be- asi lie staring at the ceilingrelax the muscles is the orderbut i twitch and listen to thevoices and streams inside- are they fast, are they coolare they warm- leg you shall obey!feel the warmth flushing softlyleg, sink into the floor, now, now!my orders circulate betweenthe control & info desk andexecutive members - legs somewhere in the itch and twitchthe orders got lost- supervisorsupervise the flow of orders! Now! Michael Witkowski


Our Blissful Oath He sends rockets to the skyhe is a spya perfect glanceincreasses your winning chancebut as you flutter and flusterin midst of your chancing blusteryou earn a heresy for makingthe meanest horrible wakingof the tempest up our shoreswhich carry not the trifling boresonly demanding to do the choresliitle taking heed of the woe soresthey inflict on our dread dreary valein which we are too soft to impaleour wrongdoers as we vowed aleand christian love to be frank and halein the face of our transgressors fearedthe sanctity we never boldly nearedbut lies on foes we never smearedrather ourself- not suicide- we searedthis be our oath and blissful gloomy doom! Michael Witkowski


Over! See YouAm INotAm YouWe togetherWe melt downOverloadStimming Michael Witkowski


Pension Cornucopia Perchance Waste Your pension and nuisanceWeighs an admittancePerchanceIn in every high billow of magicDesire to take harbour forCivil unrest in your galoreTiny members yank with hybridChalky nausea- keep slickchoice on stand-by- swat rigidMallets with honkky-tonkwomen- Abrase wastecornucopia Michael Witkowski


Phone Rustle Wonted withoout want-what for?Voice rustles distantThrough cord andWire, satellite, stars,Space, sky, seas andAirDreamy fog wrapsReceiver and myHead's voice receiverWant rushes upFrom the groundsOf my stomach.Want calm! Michael Witkowski


Pilgrims Pilgrims row to their menaceIt is a dark oyster but still theyare drawn in-albeit suffering voiceis not right as they let it happenDonned feathers they have fora lucky charm Maybe the dark oyster will notgrab them if the itchy sensationloosens oysters' grip they throughtbut the oysters spit out a liquidthat melts all white matter likethese pilgrim's feathers In a flurry, the pilgrims broughta few feathers to the museumfor safe-keeping like an archaicrarity- but a flattering remnantshielded the pilgrims from disgraceWhite peacock's feathers, American Indian's feathersChicken's feathers, eagles' feathersturkey's feathers- all feathers became-befitted various shapes of pilgrimswho kicked off the contest of feathersthe rally for the best bid on unity? The misjudged staged a show ontelevision- how far does human eyesight the future- but the winner canfall back into the past. misgivingsmade some feathered walkers immune to touch, brand friendship with freshly cutonion peels for future use but notwith old high grown cemetery gateswhich hide in their gap the rustle of gravedigging trees and the passionate shriek


of an oysters' hunter garbed in pigrim's red cloak ye waylay on the stars, ambush the moonand steal the sun, peregri you walk-no north or south ye do knowno wind rose entrenches you in a pathbut what pills i trade in for missing anannoyance. Sleep? not for sale Michael Witkowski


Plunge On Hands Stepping ahead to the entranceof the place where i would soonhit the keys-i noticed three personsblocking the door - chatting awaymerrily-Caught drops of their natter-...who's this odd man i often see....Sure they meant somoene else, not me-but then scare shot throughmy eyes - my once favoured chattermate from italian course stood there i could not would not face and greet himanswer his curiosity to my farewell stateand studies- tried to shun him -dashing past himto the door- but there i tripped upsomewhere- my heavy trekking bootgot caught in the dust crate- plungingahead - head first- to the rough stonypebbled concrete pavement i stretchedout my hands for support on landing-likea true goalie - avoid a head jump to the floor I tore up bit of skin- a girl plunged to help meimmediately -and the bloke i sought to shun askedme if i was alright-this time he did not greet me:inner sigh pushed a demonic stone off my heart Michael Witkowski


Precept For A Walk A walk- keepmemory after theend- steep your selfin your walk-if walk & writeyou'll regurgigateyour poems - andstretch last outercandle to the pain Michael Witkowski


Pudding China an angel on her front she bearsbrown wings - like a butterflyfrom afar or for the short-sightedim midst of white, surrounded bypink sleeves, under the wingsare her neat hillocks - sweet plumsthe angel has her wings outstretchedas a stop sign- a pyjamy apparitionsofter care you will never findthan from her pudding cheekswise rosy sesame, hawky noseand deep eye socketsin a sea of vanilla pudding skin china Michael Witkowski


River Mine my river turnsbreath stricken aroundthrilling stones, laps uphoarded balcony grey pearls-birds mutter wild disguisein rickety rockety sky whichgreases silver plateauxover dwarfs of mistsprayed with golden glue-vapour hangs in the loom,carving cloistered hunchesof red bark in onion slipperyglaze. Michael Witkowski


Saint Pressies i paid You a visit9.30pm - Christmas saintwith a tree, packed ragstags, bags, togs, clogs, pressiesand smithereens splinteredin heavy breadcase. marchedstomping heavy legs barrenon cracking snow, freezecrystallizes my nerves- mynerves sliced juicesof all parts Michael Witkowski


Salad Alive Salad is deadSalad lives- howcan you tell whensalad dies? How do you checkit's brain activity?Does it have a heartis it less alive thanmeat or flesh? i have to knowbecause i am a vegand moral disputestwist me wrangle with me torture me til i foundcheese as i know cheeseis dead matter but it spreadsa scent begulies my tonguewhether Tilsit, Edam, Gouda Leerdam, Massdam, Parmigiano,Fol Epi - let me stop my cheeseplug here and join into an cheeseanthem with goats cheese insteadbefore i make a cheese ringtone Michael Witkowski


Seesaw On a seesaw-which way do i pullmyself- hither, thither-cling more to you,Mars and Saturn-or travel in a circlearound my eggshellwhich is broken Michael Witkowski


Seismo-Mind-Ologic Quakes i can hardly see the paperless the scribbletimes you said'what? ' and 'pardon? 'like never beforeyou were a lot less amiablethan you had PMT'no comment! '- whetheri annoyed you or not'not a scary monster! 'but thin explanations state bare facts not emotionsi - a seismic sensorsense your unhappinessyour sadness echoesin your mirror Michael Witkowski


Send Me My sending and goat songa walk through intersectingalleyways, chunnels, by-pathsacross trains of imposing waggonshonking cars, blistering welder's sparksstray wires, cables to stumble overi strive to be looked back upontaken up and on- to such alleywaysi go- how worshippableful i am! Michael Witkowski


Sense So many mistakeswe make -dolphinssmile - not at allelephants breakchina with their feet-not at allbut they move it withdelicate sense Michael Witkowski


Shakesy Centosonett You And Me A goat is a - sign of -shadowsare circling around my headthis wordy chain i shall give- you rosethis song better be my demise- i read air shines through my overloaded fleshreturn to the old homely stately schoola church has a tall nave, air whirling afreshone hit two hits -missed - on purpose am cool swim among those many travellers round the history time nourishes my feelings as i drag out the never endingthe never ending end under the jasmin tree cherries grew a tapistryitha, you do not recognize the snow that's fallen after your mending A right cinnnamon goat he wasa Lego fort on a cow paradise hill he saws Michael Witkowski


Shower Webs When the drops fallAnd water sprays meAll masks are washed AwayIn oblivion- Am with meSolely me Time rule wields the rulerBut i stick to myselfSearch my innard shardsThey creep up - flow to theSurface like the sprayHits my outside Shards play a cinemaAn enthralling motion pictureIn my mind - without imagesJust thoughts - words madeof air Telling myselfNot cover up favoursfor a close friend with 'beingbusy with myself' - but favoursseem unreciprocated inlevel and degree Feel the length ofwire between me and myClose other self- Confessits length not- i might bemy sole self Michael Witkowski


Simple Minds One dreary Novemberafternoon, on a cup of tinseland cream with water, inthe Abbeyhole Road Tavern Cafefor budding experimentivists,imaginists, sonists and crabtreeists,two holy meagre postures conversed Clad in bakers apron, twiddledy cat hat andmorky shoes - not to say purky pantsWas Ms. Simple, a librarian of baseendeavours, who always played with his twiddledy cat,a cross of Siamese and black cat -bad lucks' fetishHe turned sour with disgrace for anticipation of aweekend without his creamy Siamese blacktwiddeldy cat. In the lost corner of the Tavern, a lost souls'nook was cringing with sad sobs a MissArtifice, who always claimed the best forher world - mundane as she was. Her worldinessexceeded her grace - she plumped for the noreserve resolve - bare all togs, strips, gramentsstand the judgement of the world on her own deviceswithout sham covers. Ms. Simple and Miss Artifice could not make theirtracks of thoughts cross each other as theyconferred- Ms: Simple vowed: 'Simple is an Art' Who carries giant shells to the well, risks theirrupture- out and overstretched their meaning, blown uptheir wordy apparition, shiny surface but murkyinnards. True but siimple hits hearts quicker. Braingrasps simple shells faster There Miss Artifice barged in- take your bowdylowliness and coarse language! I prefer refined


words as i am literate, elite, grand and splendid.Who wants noble ideas wrapped up in triteramblings? Surely the low and uneducated! These women are stillmarketing their precipestoday - who will followwhom? Michael Witkowski


Skittles & Liquorice the soughing of treeswhispers throughwindows, throughthe chinks- a filteredbreathing noisetwigs rock to and froi herealone with my distressthis from herand from herwhy doesn't the wishput an arm around mewith blissfulness andliquorice? Am i repulsive-a skittles ball? Michael Witkowski


Snowing sugar crust orcocaine icing -on skeleton boughslike wonderous roe deer's legs-coal! twisted- i wish i couldlick you off but instead-. cowardfear for my safety- play snowballwith the folk army, God is with us womanand the Sabine woman, shatteringwindows and walls of the lame familywoman's cubicle Michael Witkowski


Sound And Smoke Words are sound and smokewatch human behaviour insteadnever listen to their wordswhat they say they never meanlike you see it- you interpreteinto them more than they meantbut never less than you hope Michael Witkowski


Spectre In A Hallway He stood as if he be a spectrewhen he spots me before i see himround the bend, behind the door or in a nookActs Lot's wife on burning Sodom or Gomorrhaonly tastes of marzipan A spectre- least expected and playing deadto scare my wits - he feeds me with bequilingthoughts to prod on my tomfoolery-and i take them warm-mindedly, insecure as i am -needhints how to operate in society we agreed to text our mutual friendas he bought the postage stamps andi relieved myself on the loo but when i wasdone he left not as much as a ghostly traceof himself up and down the long hallway Michael Witkowski


St. Padraig wealthy above nationsplayed in the gardensof those who bred himbut a sudden strikeremoved him to the farcoast whosehostilityhe humouredhe knew brutish soulsconvinced his bishopsto send him backirish zeal implantedin who suffered from thembut only the slaveunderstands his masters well Michael Witkowski


Stonecone I sat an a stoneAnd ate a coneMarvellous dayMakes me gayAnd swellNature's lusciousBreath deals oddlyWith me Michael Witkowski


Sunny Vow Visit her or visit her not- I cannot settleWhile neglect might be mournfulgut muscles grumble- and legs shiverbut memories set in as a ray of honey i remember those four walked in the rainbent knees and bellies over laughingi repent my clumsy attempt at termingyour face- pudding face- ignominy! but only i darted so much forwardHe pleased M with his curvy lifestill only of M he thinks now anddeserts me in my visit of Sunny Sunny shall not be left however chirpyshe might find an action but i take a vow Michael Witkowski


Sunny's Ill.. Sunny! It hurts me that you do not confess your wholeIllness to me - You might feel shame- But you should not Do- Or even worse, you know not what ails youBecause your mum deems it proper to hide your diagnosis From you since you might not understand it- You seeYour behaviour and feelings as normal, so you would only Start to hate your mum and stop complying with theTreatment neeed; - in due course rapidly waste and die Disintegrate, lose your sense of goodness- I thank you forThe pain which gave my Dido sensation back to me. I could notLive without my melancholy., wistfulness, unfulfilled yearnings Michael Witkowski


Switch Evil rooster bespeak youChange your charmwith ten Hail MarysSwitch betterSwitch worseSwitch between the aldnessesSeeking my favourite songsSeeking confirm in used thingsOld is new and i can't bear it (Note: 'aldness' is my coinage from Old English [West Saxon} 'eald' = 'old', OldEnglish [Anglian] 'ald' = 'old') Michael Witkowski


Television Cento Saturday Morning You can see what we have -Farm carts topple over in full ride.Planes by men for men made -Here is the riddle- where did weshoot this clip - France or Germany? If I am a TB patient, I am Not sure 1 can endure the whole course of treatment -Well afterThe match, Thierry Henry said the club's failure to make bigSignings contributed to the defeat -One can really see it if one Watches the market- Couldn't feel much better the way I feelTonight -Listen in silence, zitto e godi, she pets and strokes herWee pointed cushion; rubs the junction What's more, the defendants conceded owning explosives -You do not See me -But in Bavaria, there is discrimination as well –Against bell's holy ringing - Hahaha we will reach the coast at four -First, you have to spend six hundred Euros for the video camera andThen the Computer, you do not need that here- Birds chirp and twitterIn the last thirsty years the ice plates around the Arctic have shrunk - The youth do not know what pulque is- they only see the TV advertAnd want to buy- The strict expert an flirtation turn out to be aBachelor. So my son is paid forty-nine euros for the rent - I get Paid forty-nine euro for the rent Yes I talked to her -I have it under control - I will not make it- one doesNot know it before- But I know it- awkward situation Michael Witkowski


The Slushy Fate Of Cheese With The Mantis The Slushy Fate of Cheese With The Mantis The cheese undressed from its packagingit felt oh so bare and tawdry but hopedsome saviour might run run run dashthe cheese excited the mantisshowing its exposed shiny bulk continually stripping thesuffocating red wax every poreof cheese breathed anew and letthe air in- light shone on its rindso the mantis was overcome with fearbut alas the greed did not cave in the cheese smothered the mantisdrowning in its own succulence the mantis savoured the succulenceand went into a melted fantasy snowballed the fruit into yellowhole skies, dangling off the moon and the mantis prayedas the cheese took away the problems there had beenand all that was leftwas the mantis and the cheeseas oneGlory glory mantis onewith cheese what anunlikely match! Written by goats cheese & Michael Witkowski Michael Witkowski


To Friedrich's Joy Friedrich, how can you cut out thoseWho have found not a friendWho is judge in Amity Court?Who reads the sentenceAnd ponders the Gotswear a wig and robe?Blame the unfit for his fateAnd bless the lucky for merit?Not all merit a friend that find one Michael Witkowski


Trample thou art such a tramplewith feelingswhen my son gusheshis heart over the wirebut you laugh on throughcheck your spite not- somuch you wish to amuse Michael Witkowski


Trees A-Bed Trees lie in bedTheir bark swollenWith mooshrooms fedOn sap- sap blows oop barkRaisin is soocked outCleared and returnedAutomaticallyTrees with own willmake automatons bleepSoom trees sloomberSoom hearken soundsSoom scratch their barkSoom feel their pain sensorsYank out whines fromPipelines of electriccharge transferSoom seek audienceHoog their nursiesChat and flirt fletinglyOr deeplyBask in love &SympathyRenew their forestRefresh the humus Michael Witkowski


Twin Tism bonds entwinedbetween two poles:a sad pole,a mirthful pole the sad rubs off on thejoyful, the mirthfulcolours the sad pole a scintillating interactionsprings to life. in my eyesthe poles always stayconnected - like twodissimilar twins. butkid myself not. thesework on electricitya silent gleam of thundervisible only to thediscerning eye. alas:.power cut! the ravishingbolt fell flat. And so the twinpoles found each other nomore. sad but true. This iobserved with my cherishedcompanions. Michael Witkowski


Understand Me... Brief child, sing a lullaby to memake it curt and brief'cause i stand honesty not Been waking in the shadowsskiving under lime-treesmind i shunned the lime-light Honest night is an early nightor dance and hide in motionlate night tells secrets unwanted Shallow bones and mammoth bonesAll spread on the tiles in disarrayWho picks up this wee mess now A stupid glance is a glance stupefiedi may learn, swot, do the society choresbut will never understand the rife code Michael Witkowski


Undocked Ship Have you ever felt it-atingle that rises someplacein your belly and only to setyour lower regions ablazesurges through mark and spineand crowds your face- ask the medic what it meansall vessels push blood anonat the speed of lightAlarm! Alarm! some indigestibleshock pulverised the systemrun run run away is the answer i came for joy and to see familiar faces, baskin their smiles, cuddle in their words, and danceat the same time- feel my body move with the rhythm,shake off despair but in vain- a low mood will changeinto a happy mood in humans- (but i came with ahappy mood- anticipating joy) -solely from dancing the emotions carried by the music, the squallof sound - but i am not human- i function differentlythe squall sweeps me off my feet, kicks in my tonguepierces my tonge til it swells so i can't speak, vocalchords lose their natural skills and brain orders thetongue not to speak - my mind is doing overwork in the production of feelings of hurt, a pang that injectsa flushing tingle into the system and i feel misunderstood, unappreciated-Sunny and Maria notice me at the marginof their joy, everyone obsessed with their own happinessand if you can't provide a happy quip that tosses the tablewith laughter nonne will notice me- so i flee noone understands how why in a happy placethe mood of the room does not infect mei recall my other friends who noted my sadness


and merged me with themselves- it is notwhat humans hint at, a disappointment overChris's staying away from the place but waves of sounds without tides, without ebband tie without a break for a word and a lack ofcaring word and a hug that docks me into humans Michael Witkowski


Unhuman Poem a poem withoutme, without youi wish to write when no desiresparley, ideas crythoughts wander sad of all youand sad of meunable to feel hang by a collarkick about wildly in airfree loose free loose Michael Witkowski


Valentine Chameleon Who be myvalentine?Even a friend'ddo, Tinasaid- but howdare i thinkvalentineif Cwho i thought bemy friend askedme not tocontact herfurthermore pudding chinarang in hervoice still yetcold puddingit was- imaginecold pudding!aye but iglutton oncold pudding -hot puddingscorches mylips but hoo this chinai knew notself-changedinto chalkice plasterand sour milkhi what doyou want fromme actually?wish no morecontact C.-chameleon


Michael Witkowski


We Clash Together Inside the thrush lily growsI am millinerI bud in yoouInside is a whisperWelters my cockscomb I stand aloof in praiseShed tears on your joyBesmear your graveBessech you, shedNo sun rays upon me As they scare me- noDevilish disgust seems toMe thinkable than yourLate revenge in yourDisparaged tomb- I Will never curse yourBlackened eyes- willNever stream, never roamIn your black wallsBut i have pride Michael Witkowski


michael witkowski - poems - poemhunter.commilk white. pure as nothing- as nothing in this world is...

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