A Selection of Works by Mike Daniels aka Danimik ©

This link will take you to poetry by featured guests and members of Sensitize ©.

Moderator: Louis P. Burns aka Lugh

User avatar
Louis P. Burns aka Lugh
site owner, media producer & writer
Posts: 2184
Joined: Fri Feb 24, 2006 7:32 am
Location: Derry, Ireland
Contact:

A Selection of Works by Mike Daniels aka Danimik ©

Postby Louis P. Burns aka Lugh » Thu Sep 21, 2006 7:53 pm

    A Selection of Works by Mike Daniels aka Danimik ©
Last edited by Louis P. Burns aka Lugh on Sun Sep 24, 2006 8:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.

User avatar
Mike Daniels
poet & writer
Posts: 113
Joined: Wed Sep 20, 2006 10:15 am
Location: The English Queen's Arse, Tongue First 'n' Lovin' It ...
Contact:

Several Views of Dyspepsia

Postby Mike Daniels » Thu Sep 21, 2006 7:58 pm

Several Views of Dyspepsia

A crush of attention,
the lungs are tight
tighter still
on a thick lance
driven through the rib.

I lift my guitar to play
a chaos of silence;
is it my hearing or
loss of thumbs
over which I despair?
The wood comforts me,
smooth and full and balanced
on my knee.

Fleeing the hills, I sail downwind
on a branch of silk,
a twist of earth beneath
and imagination rioting.
Plunge through and through,
on a barrier of sound -
the scream of crows endures.

Or, seeing through fingers now,
and thick-skinned,
I lose sight of your face.
I drift into the Doctor's domain
in permanent denial of self.
A bag of indigestion, loss
of purpose and desire.

A corpse of affection,
encased in the body, the sound-hole
cordoned off by string.
Resonance burdens the cell -
its a camouflage of lies.
I stare at the walls,
stroke the curves
with my eyes, see the grain
see the grain. The notes
intrude of the hiss of my sensibilities.

Imbalance of the blood,
he seeks revenge upon himself
on a flood of insulin.
A coma at the end of it,
and all insensate,
the conversation flickers around me
mixed with indiscretions,
and awkward pauses.

Summing up neuroses -
the poet in extremis.

User avatar
Mike Daniels
poet & writer
Posts: 113
Joined: Wed Sep 20, 2006 10:15 am
Location: The English Queen's Arse, Tongue First 'n' Lovin' It ...
Contact:

Home

Postby Mike Daniels » Sat Sep 23, 2006 8:42 am

Home

The breath of you robed me
from the very first,
and I,
the fool,
spent a lifetime looking
for what I already had.

Softly, I kiss your hair,
stroke your eyes with smiles.
Your lips,
your lips
are the flames that warm me.
I am rapt in delight.

Your hands bathe away sleep
on measures of care,
and your
fingers
caress away the years
that overwhelm my youth.

You are all my wisdom
and all my courage.
I was
hidden
until you uncovered
my perceived solitude.

User avatar
Mike Daniels
poet & writer
Posts: 113
Joined: Wed Sep 20, 2006 10:15 am
Location: The English Queen's Arse, Tongue First 'n' Lovin' It ...
Contact:

Rainbow's End

Postby Mike Daniels » Mon Sep 25, 2006 12:33 am

Rainbow's End
At the end of his rainbow,
toothless senility
wrapped in yesterdays
and those anciently dead
restored to him in fleshy ghosts -
and a horror more real
than any nightmare might allow.

He slid into the pit more slowly
than he had realised,
and daily ambitions evaporated
into a lukewarm prayer, please god
don't let him piss himself today.
Eventually, they took even that
and left him in this rotting carcass
and the worms had eaten his mind.

User avatar
Mike Daniels
poet & writer
Posts: 113
Joined: Wed Sep 20, 2006 10:15 am
Location: The English Queen's Arse, Tongue First 'n' Lovin' It ...
Contact:

Balconies

Postby Mike Daniels » Sat Sep 30, 2006 3:04 pm

Balconies

It is just a balcony
above an empty square,
a fountain masquerades as symbolic
within the heart of it,
the pulsing water reaching
for the perfect parabola.

He plays make believe,
his hands upon the balustrade –
the hero in an escapade
involving spies, glamour, betrayal –
he’s very big on betrayal
as if it gives meaning to his life.

He pretends he has
a microphone, he is Mick Jagger
on a small stage – before fame perhaps.
He swaggers as he mimes the words
into the broom handle, his hands
now raised in benediction.

A blink and the fountain is gone,
the square a rapture, each slab
a grift of faith. Stone angelus
as the fabric of fulfilment
as unchanged as the gargoyles
that adorn his history.

Another blink – is it water
that condemns his eyes to feebleness,
a breeze that silts his gaze with dust?
Now, the little boy charmed
by the priest and the robes of belief –
still playing on his balcony.


Return to “New Media Poetry on Sensitize ©”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest