Tag: despair

“Idyllic”

On By Mike U.In Poetry50 Comments

“Idyllic”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

Leroy blew his
fingers off with
blasting caps he stole
from some old granary
and he’d chew on the
blackened stumps
while waiting
for the school bus
like some kind of
hard dude
like he didn’t feel
a thing
I hated him
but I understood
numbness
and I knew he was
dead inside
knowing his
little sisters
were never
coming back
from that long-ago
pile of twisted metal
on the highway
he was sixteen
and already
an old man

Ronnie was a
psycho
and a pusher
and drove a
piece of shit
Chevy truck
with a .30-06
in a window rack
and his eyes
danced with
hellfire
when he wasn’t
shooting up crank
he was shooting up
mailboxes
and stealing anything
that wasn’t nailed down
and one surreal
summer evening
he almost killed me
and I saw the face of
true evil
up close and personal
my old man
would have been proud
Ronnie was already DOA
and he didn’t even
know it
a wraith
barreling down
a midnight country road
with Skynyrd blasting
and his mind
completely blown

Old Bud had a penchant
for booze
and young girls
and enough sway with
the local LEOs
to look the other way
when his granddaughters
came to visit
his self-proclaimed
redneck empire
collapsed one day when
his black heart came a cropper
and his corpulent ass
gave up its ghost
and its secrets
no shame for the shameless
his little kingdom in ruins
but all those skeletons
remain

my old man was
an anomaly
among this
cretin coterie
this hick menagerie
his arrogant bullying
earned him the moniker
“little hitler”
among the Leroys
and Ronnies
and Old Buds
of this nowhere place
this idyllic pastoral
version of hell
his NRA card-waving
wife-beating
chest-thumping
sturm und drang
racist dog and pony show
approach to country life
perhaps a little too much
for their liking
he was a laughingstock
and too proud to know it
hubris is a helluva drug

and one by one
between shoot-outs
and break-ins
and meth labs
and murders
and suicides
and all the
hidden horrors
birthed by the
brackish hearts of men
these restless ghosts
have faded into
oblivion
only barren fields remain
derelict houses
rife with caustic memories
and the soundless hush
of the uneasy dead
listen closely
and steel yourself
against what this
silent place may
tell you

things are never
ever
as they seem

“My Life Reads Like a Suicide Note”

On By Mike U.In Poetry65 Comments

“My Life Reads Like a Suicide Note”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

my old man died alone
on a busted sofa
on a September farm
in the middle
of nowhere
with a gut full of
prescription drugs
and a poorly scrawled note
left on the kitchen table

“something went wrong
in my head”

it said

he checked out
without tipping
the bellboy
the cheap fuck
remorseless
to the end

and in his
final act
on planet earth
he also killed
me

closure
wasn’t in
his 10th grade
drop-out
vocabulary
neither were
compassion
decency
empathy
love
his lexicon
was one of
unfettered cruelty
willful ignorance
narcissistic dominance
bigotry
hate
violence

closure?
there is no closure
when the bad guys
get away with murder
and speed outta town
at midnight
in black-windowed
coupes with fat tires
and skulls painted
on the hoods
glasspacks roaring
tearing the world
to pieces

there is no closure
when the deceased
can’t sleep
and bones rattle
restlessly
in coffins
and closets
and all
you can see
on the insides
of your eyelids
is the haggard face
of a seven-year-old kid
staring back
at you

so tell me
do you know
what it’s like
to be a ghost?
to lurk in
sunless corners
among dust motes
and spider webs
and choke
on the cloying darkness
that surrounds you
permeates you
to see horrors but
never be seen
to know fey secrets
that should
never be known
to hear with
deafened ears
silent whisperings
best left unheard
do you?

I’ve been gone
a long time
my father’s
smudged and bloody
fingerprints
all over
my cheap headstone
the desiccated yellow turf
of my plot
beaten to dust
beneath his
boot prints
isn’t it funny
how the dead persist?
you’d almost think
he mourned my passing
if it weren’t for his
soft laughter that
sounds more like
the cries of jackals

sometimes
in the wan hours
when the world
is asleep
and all is quiet
I push through
the sod
and float
on night breezes
navigating by
starlight and
moonbeams
among the
crooked marble crosses
and faded plastic flowers
of lost souls
and settle down
on cold dewy grass
and reach out
tentatively
toward my headstone
and weep
for that seven-year-old kid
who never had a chance
that child who died
and was reincarnated
as his mother’s protector
his father’s enemy
his fate written
in the blood
of the wound
he inflicted on his
father’s forehead
the scar that remained
until the old man
killed himself
alone
on a busted sofa
on a September farm
in the middle of
nowhere

“From Tsukiko, While Watching the Moon”

On By Mike U.In Poetry48 Comments

“From Tsukiko, While Watching the Moon”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

I have waited long enough
among midnight forests
and somnolent bamboo groves
the furtive whispers
of pensive yurei
a forlorn supplication
to dissolve further
into the rayless world
of lost souls
to seek the sleep
of bōkyaku

cloistered among
susurrating reeds
I bathe my feet
in Sanzu’s nocturnal tears
adorned in fragrant
willow shadows
as koi drowse
in the depths of dreams
and kitsune slink
clandestinely
their night-thoughts
unfathomable

the red footbridge
dun and sullen
in this half-light
recedes into nothingness
an abandoned relic
leading to nowhere
its purpose forgotten
another ghost in this
world of ghosts

beyond the bridge
emptiness

somewhere out there
lies a buried memory
the bones of a life
once lived
once lost
forever regretted
a recollection unknown to all
but mindless breeze
and insentient earth

above
insensate stars spin
upon eternal axes
their astral trajectories
a testament to futility
their presence neither
proof nor denial
of divinity
alignment
retrogradation
degradation
collapse
blackness
silence
eternity in the
blink of an eye

oh, but you, arrogant moon
gōman’na tsuki
skulking through the trees
your cold light casting you
as villainous
your spectral aria
a surreptitious siren-song
I must resist
oh, moon
your dubious countenance
burned into my soul
your serrated sickle’s
jagged tracks still scarred
across my pallid wrists

you don’t know me, moon
in your hubris
you assume all things
in your haughtiness
you presume to decide
the fates of men
your judgments
surpassing Enma’s
in their brackish cruelty
your domain the darkness
and all who dwell within
you of many faces
and the tongues of serpents
beguiler of hearts and minds
you don’t know me, moon

but I know you

you named me Tsukiko
birthed me in
the gloom of obscurity
flung me upon Fuji’s flanks
and fled
moon-child
daughter of Tsuki
I have watched you
all my life
from afar I contemplated
your shifting phases
your covert risings and fallings
your feckless betrayals
your eldritch gleam

and I waited
for acknowledgment
for recognition
for the simple pleasure
of moon-dapples
on lotus ponds
and still I wait

you don’t know me, moon
and you never shall
for now I embrace my fate
and begin my journey
into the tenebrous aether
of oblivion
no more shall I hope
for that which you cannot give
no more shall my tears
blind me to the truth
no more shall my dead heart
ache from your rejection

I am Tsukiko no more

“How Swift the Stream”

On By Mike U.In Poetry34 Comments

“How Swift the Stream”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

as gloaming eventide stalks dying light
to ambuscade the remnants of the day
diurnal requiems give way to night
how quick the gloom
eviscerates its prey

regretful skiffs of shame contuse the dusk
as shadows skulking on earth’s wretched rind
asphyxiate its palpitating husk
how cruel the dark
and all it renders blind

the dreams of men have withered into dross
the fruits of hope lie rotting on the vine
of apathy and existential loss
how foul the taste
of sorrow’s bitter wine

the torrents of the years in all their guile
and surreptitious whisperings betray
compassion’s current flows but for a while
how swift the stream
and all it sweeps away

“A Poet’s Lamentation”

On By Mike U.In Poetry41 Comments

“A Poet’s Lamentation”
© 2025 by Michael L. Utley

pardon my sorrow
and forgive my weeping soul
my humble supplication
loosed into the void on raven’s wings
to fall on deafened ears of fickle gods

there is no recourse but to hemorrhage
wring my bleeding heart of every drop
of my wretched existence
rend the sinews from my bones
and flay me naked

in this bleakest night
‘neath the bitter howling stars
my armature gleams ghastly
pale, my dynamo has stripped its gears
my lidless eyes see all and naught at once

as galaxies cavort and novae scream
tunes atonal to eternity
and singularities gorge
on time itself, I writhe in
insignificance

what of sacrifice
what of tears that stain the path
to heaven or hell, what of
all the shattered promises, edicts
proposed to bridge sepulchral crevasses

to heal humanity, to proffer hope
all I hear is silence, all I see
are forsaken blasted lands
smoking ruins, open graves
all I feel is dread

words in lieu of souls
that is all the poets have
to lay upon the chantry
of contrition, penitence conveyed
through lifetimes etched in stone and signed in blood

a universal verse, an astral dirge
seeking meaning in obscurity
the great myst’ry locked away
far beyond my lexicon
all words have failed me

“The Daisy Ring” published at Hotel by Masticadores

On By Mike U.In Poetry36 Comments

I’d like to let you know my poem “The Daisy Ring” has been published at Hotel by Masticadores. Many thanks to Editor Michelle Navajas for sharing this poem. I’m truly grateful for your kindness, Michelle.

“The Daisy Ring”
(c) 2021 by Michael L. Utley

“I found thee in a faerie copse…”

“Hmm?” she murmured
Her gaze caught somewhere
In the rainy neon night-world
Beyond the coffee shop window
Her fingers weightless
Feather-like
In my hand
Ethereal
Furnace-hot

“I found thee in a faerie copse
Alighting on each flower fair
And as I ‘proached thee in the hopes
Of snaring thee in lovers’ ropes
Thou disappeared into thin air…”

She looked at me then
A faint smile teasing
Her lips
“Your poetry is terrible,” she said…”

You can read the rest of my poem here:

“The Daisy Ring” by Michael L. Utley

Also, please consider following and subscribing to Hotel by Masticadores, where you’ll discover a world of wonderfully imaginative and profound writing.

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (62)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry21 Comments

© 2024 by Michael L. Utley

(#367)

river stone cairn
serenity in chaos
as life flows past

…..

(#368)

deathbed
her soul cleansed by
early morning rain

…..

(#369)

in my stillness
I become the mountain
winter squall

…..

(#370)

oneness with nothingness
this world can no longer
touch me

…..

(#371)

my silent world
sound dies
and I die with it

…..

(#372)

my essence diffused
I’m no longer here nor there
a crow’s cry

“A Few Haiku & Senryu (61)”

On By Mike U.In Poetry45 Comments

(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

(#361)

November stubble
she tills the field
of memories

…..

(#362)

sorrow’s journey
drifting on the breeze
a sparrow’s plume

…..

(#363)

her sundered smile
picking up the pieces
of my heart

…..

(#364)

seeds of yesterdays
watered by the tears of years
memory garden

…..

(#365)

stream ice cracks
beneath the red footbridge
the hush of rushes

…..

(#366)

dip my bones in blood
etch my life across the stars
a soul’s journey

“I Can Hear the Water Cry”

On By Mike U.In Poetry34 Comments

“I Can Hear the Water Cry”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

misty river bank
I can hear the water cry
through its mournful veil

from whence your tears
my friend
from whence your sorrow
the stream of life
long and arduous
promises nothing
takes wantonly
yet gives freely
drowns dreams
yet slakes hope’s thirst
erodes time
yet blesses leas
with hue and humor

I have bathed my feet
in your cool waters
drunk from cupped hands
of your living essence
and watched
as villages flood
and crops perish
your fickle nature
both boon and bane
the rage of winter’s run-off
the futility of summer’s drought
the chaos of confusion
the trauma of neglect

regrets eddy
among the reeds
koi doze in shadow-torpor
levitating dragonflies iridesce
oblivious to your siren-song
your current inexorable
immutable
fate’s dynamo

what of your sadness
what fears drive you
what memories haunt
your hidden heart
speak to me, friend
share your burden
help me understand
your tears

there is purity
in kindness
absolution in love
such a pity
a solitary meadow’s stream
a rill of life
darkened by despair

I see you, stream
I hear your halting whisperings
I smell your vital fragrance
I feel your urgent motion
I sense your profound depth
you are not alone
my friend
the mountain cradles you
the forest shades you
the flowers dance
to your melody
let the sun gild your surface
let the moon caress you
let your heart be
unencumbered
flow, my friend
just flow

and all
will be forgiven

“I am the Coin that Falls Between the Cracks”

On By Mike U.In Poetry63 Comments

“I am the Coin that Falls Between the Cracks”
(c) 2024 by Michael L. Utley

parts of me have died
that no one will ever know
nor will ever mourn
and why should they
I am just a remnant of myself
writ small among the vagaries of life

I am the coin that falls between the cracks
the sub-aural hum of power lines
the mote-specked silence of barn lofts
the dull glint of galaxies
as seen through rheumic eyes
I am the shadow
in the corner
of my cold
listless
mind

amid the howl of eternity
there are worlds upon worlds
fractal multiverses strewn
with thoughtless hubris
across heaven’s filthy floor
the dice of fate, kismet’s craps
as reckless gods play
with the lives of men
and alabaster-eyed
sentinels gaze blankly
distant and aloof
into the cackling abyss

once, beneath a leaden sky
a sweltering path led me
through shag-barked copses
and desiccated thickets
to an obscure clearing
and there
in midday gloaming
a spring appeared
and I knelt at water’s edge
seeking desperately
for my reflection
proof of my existence
which eluded me
upon the stagnant rancid
larval-glutted surface
I sought to see my soul
but instead espied
the foul machinations
of a craven universe
amid pond scum
and the stench of reality
and as I fled in horror
the pealing laughter
of amused gods
rent the sky

there are sink-holes in my soul
where I’ve lost myself
along the way
suffocating in tenebrosity
the detritus of shame
trailing behind me
marking my path
from tepid light
to torpid darkness
from inutile hope
to abject despair
the inconsequential
bric-a-brac of
22,000 days
fallen from the cabinets
of my heart
shattered shards
of worthless memories
my mind
a stuttering dynamo
choking on its own fumes

I
have lost
myself in
this desert of
alkali flats and
creosote bushes that
leech all moisture from my eyes
rendering tears unfeasible
seeking shelter from this thoughtless sun
and the mindlessness of my existence

take my hand
if you dare
and I shall show you
a broken soul
a half-hearted man
a mind in free-fall
a dumb dying animal
too cowardly to drop
to the dust and merge
with oblivion
a leprous life
in exile among
incurious stars
shunned by
callous sun
and careless moon
and exhausted
beyond measure
a half-life
every atom radiating
a numbness of spirit

my lost soul slides
languidly
toward
day’s end

and when my somber sun sets
none shall be the wiser