Josh Apr 27
If this, that I am feeling
Is but a fraction
Of the weight
Of the world
Then, no wonder
Atlas shrugged
First piece in a while. I intend to try and get back into writing again.
  Sep 2017 Josh
Megan
We are the kids
Who want to feel alive
We want to feel liberated and beautiful and young.
We are the sad youth.
Of cutting
And anti-depressants
Praying for some one to save us
From ourselves,
When our minds are dark
And we are alone.
We are the wild youth.
Of late nights
And city lights
With our lungs filled with smoke
And adrenaline pumping through our veins.
We are the lonely youth.
Where no one knows our thoughts
And no one understands
But God, how we wish they would.
We are the hipster indie youth.
We don't do it for the aesthetic
Because this is who we are
We live our lives in black white
And sometimes, someone beautiful
Adds in the most vibrant color.
We are the wandering youth.
Searching, exploring, running, grasping
At whatever we can
That make us see
There is hope
And wonder
And brilliance in the world.
We are the youth of today
We are different
But we are human.
We are the youth.
And even if our youth is fading,
The memories we made aren't.
I hope that when you read this, you remember moments that made you feel sad, happy, in love and alive. I really hope you do.
  Aug 2017 Josh
Nat Lipstadt
~

who knows the definition of a poet?
~
for my friend, S.Y,
who I will embrace with both hands,
both eyes, when he hands me a signed copy of a book
that answers the question


weighty subjects deserve your best work,
expressions of affection and introspection,
need careful reflection, a proper set up for the
tumult inevitable when delving in the unopened recesses
where the answers kept

so, of course, the writing commences well after 1:00am,
when the darkness of night clarifies the process,
for I work by day but live by night,
when summoning up my one tool no one can take away,
the joy, the relief, the spectacular exultation  of
rearranging the aleph bet in new ways,
when the quietude of reflection transports me
across the continents in visions of what will be

I don't know if I know the answer, perhaps, any answers,
but when this man demands
the ebb tides of soul to depart,
to make him stand alone on the shore of endings,
forcing  him to acknowledge his reckonings,
lonely, only humanity and frailties

I hear a voice gruff growling and me laughing-
"cut to the chase, make your point, get out of people’s way"

so in your honor, this simp fool who asks questions
no human has any business, the answers knowing,
will one last stanza grant and give and
yours to keep,
and commence countdown waiting for that day of welcoming

from the underground comes a chorus of voices,
in one voice but many languages, chanting:


all humans are poets
who acknowledge and freely confess that the
blood and stuff, the kisses and the touches of family and friends,
parent and child,
are the sperm and the egg,
the beginning and the circulation of the never ending,
the open entrance that penetrates the berm surrounding real life,
all these are the root and the stem and the blossoming,
of poetry writ large, for they who have these in their possess,
are surely by definition certainly

humans, poets


~
5/14/17 2:05am
all poets are human,
all humans are poems
Happy Birthday Steve!
Josh Aug 2017
I am not fragile
I am not a porcelain doll
Or a baby bird
I am not something to be wrapped in cotton wool
He broke me. I built myself up
They tried. I endured. Only cracking
She tried. She failed.
By the time you met me
I am more glue and duct tape
Whisky and ink
And grim resolve
Than I am person.  
I am not fragile.
I have survived.
I will continue to do so.
No.
I am not fragile.
Just something. I didn't realise it needed saying.
Josh Aug 2017
I love you
Happy words
Unless, they preced
The dreaded, but
Or feared, however
Both can shatter a heart
And I'm sorry.
Because
I love you, but
There it is
The rest of what I have to say
Is white noise
As your mind processes
That word
But
Still, I will continue
I love you, but I cannot
I cannot do this on my own
I cannot keep hoping for a word from you
Sit here wondering
Pondering
I am slowly accepting
You're here but not
So maybe
When you come back
If you do
I'll be here, but gone, too
Moving, or moved on
From you
Another mess
Josh Aug 2017
It's in cloudy lemonade
In a cheap candy cane
In the kiss of a lover
Or an early morning smile
In a goodbye kiss
It's in the pouring rain
And pounding hearts
Gasping , grabbing greedy breaths
In long drives
Songs sung
Out of time to the radio
In time with each other
In simple things
Pizza and long talks
A bottle of some thing cheap
Kisses that taste wine-sweet
And the places you meet
Life, itself
Made sweet
Just random. Not happy with it but oh well.
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