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 Nov 2013 Breeze
Nat Lipstadt
this poem didn't come easy. written amidst buffeting emo's, V will not be natural flow, probably flawed. You, self-chosen people, will come along, please, to see the process, and the proceeds too.
But as usual, the poem was write before me, needing only human kindness overflowing to guide the way.

V

V words lord, excluding all others,
phonetic juggernauts,
never met a V word
that had no personality.

victory is the one word that
my/our brains
think of first.

sure there is vortex, victuals, veer
and *valor exam,

the latter,
what ever it means is a gift,
curtsy-courtesy of auto-incorrect.

but it is victory
on top,
victorious in its own way.

try it on another if you must...
what is the word that starts with a V
that first comes to mind?

so let us talk of victories.

so oft, I write in the dark,
even as I do now.

came home soul weary,
face worn-worry,
gotta go out to meet
Peter Bogdanovich later,
to chat about his latest movie.

woman looks me over.
X-ray glance,
an MRI of my heart,
no deductible charged,
but oh yes, a co-pay due, indeed!

Peter will keep,
tonight you're-mine,
to bed I send,
right after we consume
Large Thin Mush,
cause pizza with shrooms contains
mood serotonins,
that erase the
"pain of the day"

that be a victory nonpareil.
a Waterloo, a Normandy landing,
that be a victory where
both sides hug and kiss,
and make with their long,
stubby Churchillian fingers,
V's all night long
with goofy grins,
cigars and bowler hats,
just to go along.

so here I am in the dark,
having been "put" to bed,
one mo' time,
slicing and dicing letters
into a word-salade,
instead of resting.

dreaming of the day
when I can no longer need to
pretend to be a Seuss, but truly,
can be writing poems for all my
children~friends.

one for each letter
of the alphabet,
teaching us to write
upon our faces
laugh lines thin and fine,
mine, ours, yours.

product of pizza poems,
some that come not circular,
but tonite shaped
just like a woman,
just like a
*V.
For Victoria who has promised to read every poem the pizza delivery boy wrote in alphabetical order, starting with the one that was heretofore missing, one that started with the letter V.

PostScript: there could be no N,
Without the topsy turvy
V hidden inside,
Proof positive
That life is indeed
turVy
 Nov 2013 Breeze
J
Losing the Anchor
 Nov 2013 Breeze
J
This is for me
So here's to letting go
Letting go of you
Letting go of me
Letting go of my image
Letting go of who I used to be
Here's to me becoming more of myself
To embracing that which makes me different
If they don't want me this way?
Doesn't make a difference
I'm going to be my un-beautiful self
Outspoken, obnoxious, dorky, know-it-all, whatever
I'm going to be me
And see, this poem might not be beautiful
Not my usual poisonous masterpiece
Because for once I'm not being bitter
I'm not being dangerous or seductive or dark
I'm just trying to be
Trying to be okay
Because lately, I haven't been
And I think that as I'm trying to become the person I want to be,
I'm losing sight of the person I was,
and the person I am
So I'm no one
And then I'm left scrambling, trying to find personality traits to hold onto
Becoming the old me, living in the past
Becoming the future me, daydreaming in a world that won't last
And it hurts
Because what's happened in the past is there for a reason
And what hasn't been yet will never be
So for once I'm being nice to myself
Sweetie, let go
Let go of that poisonous boy
Mourn him, yes
You can cry for who you thought he would be
But let him go
It's not fair to either one of you
Because the more he tears you apart...
The more likely you are to destroy him in turn
So it's about time you let go that which drags you down
And make your way to the surface
 Jul 2013 Breeze
Sam Hawkins
In the early dark of the morning,
dark inside the crypt of my bedroom--
you sparrows came to me there.

I had only said in mind these words:
a forgiveness of sparrows

And there you were, feathers
all fluffed out, and I
searching inside myself.

I think now to tell the better truth -- to say
that mixed in with my need for calling you
was Brueghel, his painted picture with the crushing board,
trip-cord, and feed for bird killing

and my imagining snapshot young Hemmingway
capturing pigeons in Paris to eat them

and feeling the presence of
the one small bird I'd shot as a boy
out of the apple tree
falling falling falling

Sparrows, forgiveness flies all around me!
The world cries out, everywhere!

A police car slides down my street,
as I hear your first chirp in the morning.
 Jul 2013 Breeze
Natasha
Fuck.
 Jul 2013 Breeze
Natasha
Mentioning old habits, (even in light conversation)
Makes me
Crave.  

            -*only those who have seen the monster       themselves will know how awful this feeling is
 Jul 2013 Breeze
phantasmal
we fill ourselves with each other
and as we drown utter curses between us
we push each other away further
and lament of distance and of trust
we slash our wrists in muted pleasure
and despair of blades that rust
still we cling so desperately to forever
to a love that will never last

- - -
You **** me
With dust that is
You made me hiss and spit
In the moments I hated myself
Dressed to go and a discover a new drug
Sparrows and doves eating me alive
This tree is such a pretty color of pink
I'm sinking in this ocean of lust
The veins are my path
So refreshing and free

Refusing to miss my gear
I undress and I inject
Floating into the clouds the mystery of my way
My fingers catch the highs and lows
Following the crave
As my eyes seem to fall away

Needed to find the last crumbs
I want to be erased fly into rainbows
Talk to the storm tell them I'm all alone
My mind needs a rest
I shall remove it and lay it in the dirt
Where worms can fulfill there hunger that they need
I have not a thing to say
Lets go for a walk paint the town
Is that snow? Make a snowman for me
My head is spinning no it's being eaten by a man
A small man that fits in my hands
He is white and soft
My best friend he knows how things go

Your are hideous and offensive
Why tell me in this state?
One more foolish speed
The little man helps me again
Open my mouth that is covered in blood
I lay for awhile all is still
I hang on to that little guy

He never left my side
I feel cold and lonely
I swirl around there is no sound
Inside I'm screaming but there is no air
I cease to function
I'm confused I'm lost
My eyes have returned yet I can't see at all

I know your alone
But your heading home
Rest your weary soul as your lifted

I often wonder why you were so sad ?
Your no longer an addict with needles in your arms
I hold your hands study your fingers for the last time
Caress the scars on your arms
Pray out to someone that this is wrong
Your little girls
They miss you so
We send you balloons and love
You'll always be a essence of us
I know this piece is very personal I lost my brother 2 yrs ago. He was an addict for many years. Every time I see his girls it destroys my heart. My niece has spina bifida and has had 14 surgeries. She is so strong and loving she blows kisses to her dad. I hope he catches them. Excuse all the madness in this piece I lost my way. Thanks so much
 Jul 2013 Breeze
phantasmal
i lay awake
listening to the demons—
they sing me lullabies
of regret and of blame
my heart and soul
they are synced to the rhythm
of this tune of deceit
the drumming beat etches
itself into the root of my mind
i am swayed
by the haunting notes of
their dangerous melody
a low baroque
flowing chords that run
smooth along my sorrow
breathless—
i forget the reason
to my existence
(was there even one?)
disoriented—
my lips part to
join them in their song

- - -
 Jul 2013 Breeze
phantasmal
slip the needle into my vein
i'd close my eyes and let you reign
the cool of metal etched between
a pain more delicious than sin
inject the cyanide dose by dose
remember the highs and lows
and with a smile i'd beckon you near
i'd use my last breath to call you "dear"

- - -
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