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Cerebral Contents:
Update for 05.13.08:
Male Model by Phil Doran
Set to Replay by Willie Smith
Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis
Tree by G. David Schwartz
05.05.08:
Disintegration by Don Hucks
Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord
Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse
Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi
04.29.08:
Lookalikes by Phil Doran
Dinner by Brandi Wells
The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox
Death by Onions by Michael Frissore
04.21.08:
Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser
Identity Theft by George Anderson
The Datists by Adam Engel
A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde
04.14.08:
Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem
California by Caroline Imreibe
Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis
Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson
04.07.08:
The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch
Slideshow by Miles J. Bell
Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen
Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin
03.24.08:
The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix
Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor
Far Away by Ashok Niyogi
Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer
03.17.08:
The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy
Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley
Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson
Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney
03.10.08:
Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson
I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson
Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse |
Forked in Itasca
by Michael Lee Johnson
I am so frustrated
I want to chew
the dandruff
out of the internet hair implant
and dislodge it,
for a lost love affair I never cared
about and hardly knew.
Don't tell me about my sentence structure,
I am human in these simple words.
I swear to you I curse.
Then the ram of my affair falls short
frustrating my approach to the world
at my fingertips.
No Yellow Pages here my love.
The dial up of my local connection
is wretched, stuck unincorporated
in the land I approved to live in,
monopolized by Comcast the
robbers of the poor and the humbled.
All I hear is the rambling of the railroad tracks.
I grow numb in my deafness faint with my hearing.
Did I ask for your opinion?
I am a frustrated foreign camper
in my own community.
Of a village I don't live in,
but I love this local village I lie about.
I am estranged.
I tie knots in contradictions
when I travel light and far,
visit home I long for a journey
past where I have never been.
Is this the reason I am lost
forked in between
the poet I think I am
and the working man
my bills dictate?
______________________________________
Mr. Michael Lee Johnson lives in Chicago, IL after
spending 10 years in Edmonton, Alberta Canada during the Vietnam War era.
He is a freelance writer, and poet. He has been published in USA, Canada,
New Zealand, Australia, Scotland, Fuji, Nigeria Africa, India, United
Kingdom. Michael Lee Johnson is a member of Poets & Writers, Inc and
Directory of American Poets & Fictions Writers. He is a member of
The Illinois Authors Directory. He has published 145 poems in 2007 to
date. He is the author of The
Lost American: From Exile to Freedom. Visit his website
at poetryman.mysite.com.
He is now the publisher and editor of Poetic
Legacy, which is now open for submissions.
posted 01.21.08.
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