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Poems by Mike Ratajczak

A SINGULAR COMPLETE THOUGHT

When you fall, you fall upon
painted shards of glass
so that the painters of the glass
can know that you're real
Wisdom is your glory
and it is from those open windows
often missed by passers by
that the dreams of laboured misfortune
are the dreams that create the substance of today
Its outside the walls of conventional thickness
given shape by the limitations of the creators
that give it connotation to fall into form
to become words to live by
but that just outside it
is where it waits, given its only limitation
to reach and touch the glistening sky
When you take it outside its called art
but when it takes you outside its called life
its what truly makes the foundations
and heeds the call of God's battle cry
It is there that it hugs you
and reaffirms you
and sends you off in the morning with a kiss goodbye

ARE YOU SPANNING THE SPAN?

The passages and tunnels to light are gone
Investment is carried away with the wind
No center track keeps sight in line
No entanglement entangles victim
Black pistol's yell is silenced in the wind
Passion is on the back burner with the baked beans
Lust is in the jar on the windowsill
Thought comes to the back of the head in order to jar its
recipient

Who fell out of the cradle's way?
he said, carrying his dreams out to the trash
Point blank at the words said
Nothing remains to be swept up
By the end of the day
I heard the same thing over every day's yesterday
until finally yesterday became today

Time wonders where it went
Someone wonders where someone is
And there's the ray of the sun in your face
Tingling the untraceable fragments of what we saw
heard and felt

I forgot how to fit words into a puzzle
The man sitting at the table forgot how to sit
And the crease will spin again!


PAPER BASS

Perhaps lucky, perhaps unlucky
My father can point anywhere
anywhere around town and
say, "You killed my son!"
an erstwhile writer
a member once, of an American fable
the fable of humanity
the fable of generosity
of kindness
Remember when you pushed the glass
and it went through so you could
reach your neighbor?
I don't and it's killing me
that man's son
the one who raves downtown
with a script of yellow pages
that thought I could unlock the silence
the silence that suffocates me
that man
who waves a paper bass as
his arms flap in the wind
drawing laughter
"He looks like a chicken."
it disturbs you and drives the
townspeople to settle their uneasiness
and today the mall clears more money
than it ever has before...
I'm glad I could be of service

My Folly
From the starting gun
Until the last body drops
on the playing field where we congregate
We assault each other
with our ideas
with our questions
and from the stream that flows so mercilessly
I reach to pull you out
So that we may sit on the riverside
and watch time pass us by

I have no questions for you
I have no demands of you
For your time, is all I request
Even though at times
it's a stretch of our imaginations
primarily mine though,
primarily mine as I seek something good
just in the light of your eyes

Yeah well, I can dream
or maybe your appearance in my dreams
Will wipe away my intentions
and shuffle in the furnishings
for a brand new psychosis

Untitled

Jesus screams at midnight silent
thrashing me from bed to wall
inside folds of coagulated waste
I remember these images of you

And so I stumble into the morning sun
remembering fast to wear my burdens
for these burdens can't wait to be forgotten
and greeted with an indignant smile

So we forget each other- you and I
In passing, you say, you see me best
In collapsing, I say, I see you first
with the reminder that I'm too forgotten to die





About Mike Ratajczak. I've been published in one place before in a "we publish everything" publication. I am not currently attending school but plan to go back. I've been attempting to create decent poems for about five years. Hopefully I can get these published somewhere. I'm also some sort of musician of the bass. My e mail address is israel_sarah@hotmail.com. I am available for contact by complete strangers.

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