|
Post by MsBlonde69 on Nov 4, 2004 17:26:55 GMT -5
I know..I love the way he writes. He so rocks my socks..I'm so stoked!!!! I can't wait to get BIP Yipes!! *jumps up and down*
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Nov 5, 2004 22:02:32 GMT -5
Excellent choice! Thanx for the contribution. You can really tell from that poem that he's a big movie fan. Conjured up a lot of images for me too!
|
|
|
Post by MsBlonde69 on Nov 7, 2004 12:46:20 GMT -5
it does paint a very good picture
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Dec 3, 2004 20:56:29 GMT -5
December
In honor of the holiday season here's Michael's poem entitled "Christmas" from Burning in Paradise
Christmas
I worked at a Christmas tree lot sometime in the early 70's, the exact year I don't remember, and who really gives a nuts, anyway my boss was a real prick who cashed in on X-mas every year and could care less about my skinny freezing ass. "Smile," he said, "You got to smile more," something I'd heard before and since many times. I guess people like me better smiling which is why I don't very much. "If you want to sell those trees you got to look happy, make people like you." All I really wanted to do was smash him in the face but I stood and I froze and I walked and I sold and I loaded, while he sat in his heated trailer like King Tut smelling his own farts I imagined. My mother was working two jobs. It was Christmas Eve we didn't have a tree. So later that night after all the station wagons had loaded with the halfsucked lollipops stuck on the inside of their back windows and driven away and the lights were out in the city, I went back to the lot, climbed over the back fence and stole a tree. I dragged it down the alleyway all the way back to our place and put it on the back porch of the first floor of the nutsty two flat we were soon to leave from. It was snowing outside and I looked at the tree leaning there alone and thought about my mother and sister I thought about my boss farting king prick and my father missing another Christmas with us and my mother not having any money and my sister with Marilyn Monroe posters on her wall and how happy I was for ripping off that tree and I smiled.
|
|
|
Post by AradiaMMFan on Dec 3, 2004 21:20:16 GMT -5
awesome poem. i love his work, gives real insight into his life.
|
|
|
Post by MsBlonde69 on Dec 7, 2004 9:38:43 GMT -5
aww this was one of my favorites. I swear I teared up when I read this one. He's the bestest
|
|
|
Post by Madsen58 on Dec 7, 2004 23:58:48 GMT -5
OMG. . . that was such a cute poem, you know for some reason I can imagine lil Michael doing something like that, lol
|
|
|
Post by TsnMMFan on Dec 11, 2004 4:42:54 GMT -5
That poem is awesome because it really gives insight and feeling into a life that isn't that far away from our own. That in itself makes him much more understandable. I love that one, good choice.
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Dec 11, 2004 10:39:08 GMT -5
Yeah, it just makes him that much more "human". Although I can't say I've eve stolen a christmas tree...unless cutting it off someone else's land counts.
|
|
|
Post by Madsen58 on Dec 11, 2004 20:51:43 GMT -5
I love reading Michael's poems cause it shows Michael in a different light then what others are used to seeing him as(he's characters in movies and stuff)
|
|
|
Post by Vagabond on Dec 27, 2004 16:37:26 GMT -5
Michael's poetry is raw, real, and honest, Each piece that I have read since I've discovered his books has really worked it's way into me for some reason. I think one of the amazing things about Michael's writing style is the fact that we can see ourselves in it. Somewhere, sometime in all of our lives we have all had moments like the ones that he writes about. As we read, we remember, and it makes it helps to know that we aren't the only ones who have been lonely, tired, broke, hungry, and cold.
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Dec 27, 2004 18:38:25 GMT -5
Very well put & I agree 100%! It shows he's just like the rest of us, even though he's up there on that pedestal that we put him on.
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Jan 7, 2005 19:29:41 GMT -5
2005 From 'Burning In Paradise': "Rain" Chicago, July 2, 1992, I stuck my head out the window into a beautiful rainstorm and got my face and hair wet; it was a nice welcome home. The rain I mean. The weathermen grumbled like groutheaded goat snappers so I turned the TV off. the American flag wet and flapping in the wind below me reminded me of my father who was born on July 4th and named after the president of his day. I saw a parking lot attendant walking across his lot in yellow rain slickers, then a big fat guy in a white shirt, black tie and black pants, you could tell he wanted to run, but he knew he'd look stupid with his fat bubbling up and down so he kept walking and kept getting wetter. I was wet now as were my boots by the windows, and I felt like a seed in Death Valley waiting for my gut to sprout. I left the window open, drank two vodka tonics, lit a cigarette and didn't move my boots.
|
|
|
Post by Vagabond on Jan 8, 2005 0:20:05 GMT -5
I have this poem as part of a black and white Michael collage that I did for my room.
This one and 'History', in both Michael talks about the rain. He always speaks of it with such reverance and affection.
|
|
|
Post by Madsengirl on Jan 10, 2005 19:14:52 GMT -5
Yeah, I've noticed that too. The day that I picked it for poem of the month it was pouring down rain here, so I said, hey that's the one I'll use! Ha.
|
|