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What can be done to consume this feeling of emptiness
What can we done when we're broken into a million pieces
And how do we fix the broken pieces together
How do we learn to love again

What do we believe in .. when there's nothing left to believe in
What do we hope for when all dreams are blurred
How can we heal and forget the wounds when they plague our minds
How do we become blind to the scars that are left behind
What becomes inspiration when the faith fades

Are happy endings hopeful in nothing but chaos
How can we keep hoping when reality promises noone a happy ending
How can an immaculate being hurt you so profoundly
And how can you still be able to love him

When will the light outshine all the darkness
And when will the swift wind destroy all this confusion
When will stars align
And When will the moon shine at it's greatest intensity

How do we escape misery's stifling grip
And how can a fear so consuming be diminished
Can this sinking feeling be controlled
Why do we become so numb
How do we leave when we're being pulled by the forces of profound emotions
And the longing of a fragile heart

**But why .. do we all strive to be loved when love becomes so detrimental..
 Aug 2013 namatsar
Sven Stears
I wanted to eat you alive with my heart,
Disseminate my love for you,
soul coughing a Heimlich dance routine
that struggled to keep us one.

You were to busy ignoring the coward
that kept me alive
to see the bravery fighting chance
and drawing curtains against fate

There was feeling in these young bones
where the medicine was make believe,
all sugar coated fiery tales to drive us to the well,
wishers of hope forgot that love is an effort.

Liars will tell you that there is just one,
and that one and one is one, and I too,
will lie to you but only to keep the placebos
sweet jesus if you knew the truth.

There's a colourful cobweb
I tangled round us
And yeah, I'd take the floor away,
if it would keep you falling for me.

There is not a thing I wouldn't do
to keep the demons from your door
And the wolves in docile dream states
Nodding yes to your every request.

But Memory lane is no place to build a future,
Lets move past all the haunted houses
and build the home from more than cards
glued together with coffee stains.

Fits of laughter and pits of passion
litter landscapes of love in foreign places
where speaking in tongues
becomes common language.

Blissfully aware of our ignorance
We turned a blind eye to status chorus,
breathing freeform jazz into
independent harmonies,

Shards of Shotgun Showers
Add bass to blissful dreams,
A sense of the real, reeling us in,
A foundation shaken in eternal sin,

As the sax plays us out,
its a standing ovulation,
that keeps us on course,
encores are for failures, and things that... stop.
 Aug 2013 namatsar
Nat Lipstadt
Everyone a Sailor

Sept. 2010

Everyone a sailor,
everyone a waiter,
everyone a planner,
everyone an executive chef,
charting courses for grownuphood,
planning meals, banquets.

foolishness, selecting the ingredients for
an award winning recipe of life ,
marking stars,
sextant in hand,
make meetings,
scheduling a conference call,
practice risk taking,
serving, while multitasking

serendipity is mine to
make and behold

marry this one,
add a little cumin,
travel seven seas and
have seven sons,
the eighth I'll discover and
name it after me,
Son of Mine Own Stolen Days

Lighting or storm,
illness and thunder,
ne'er will be disturbances,
on my voyages

But we forget,
we err,
the danger of being becalmed is the one we ignore,
the slowest leakage,
drowned by seepage,
the small risk that transforms us from
sailors to one who
waits,
alone on a lost isle,
with nothing of substance on which to survive,
we slow starve to death on a
diet of our own
mixed metaphors

There was a time,
when I did not value time,
discarded days like seeds
random scattered in garden,
more curious than hopeful
what might appear, and uncaring if
they were all winded away

Who spent days like cash,
thinking I had plenty and
more to make,
gave away in haste
what had no redeemable value,
thinking time was refuse and waste

Becalmed,
what need for chances,
daily escapades,
gave twenty years of mine
away to the undeserving, punished by God, cancer stricken
*****, who made me so miserable for so long,
in one grand gesture,
signed it away,
and asked the devil
for nothing in return

Did not drink,
Did not take pills,
Did not smoke,
But life disdained,
I try to **** myself
By eating TV dinners
six times daily

Do not laugh,
it nearly worked
and my obit
would have been the lead
side splitting ar-tickle in the
New York Times
Science Section!

But here I am
a survivor,
and I have formed
an association of one;
The Society of Explorers, Planners and Plotters
And Those Who Serve By Waiting

We meet once every day
for the rest of my life,
call the meeting to order,
Consult Robert's Rules,
Quorum of one present?
No new business?
Meeting adjourned!

Meeting Summary:
You may plan with good
intent
You may buy or you may
rent
You may be bereft or
content
You may plan or just
wait
**but if you let a day pass
without recording one
poetical truth
in your own manner,
of your own choosing,
then you have failed
yourself,
do not wait,
set sail!
This is one of them...
FYI. I stumbled
On a bunch of poems 2~3 years old.   Very different style.   Hohoho Merry Chanukah to me,   Most very long, will fire at will;  long so not suitable for the 10W crowd....sigh. Oh yeah, one more thing, I wrote them on my cell phone, usually in the bathtub, yes, I went thru a lot of  corporate phones...
 Aug 2013 namatsar
Nat Lipstadt
On a bunch of poems 2~3 years old.   Very different style.   Hohoho Merry Chanukah to me,   Most very long, will fire at will;  long so not suitable for the 10W crowd....sigh. Oh yeah, one more thing, I wrote them on my cell phone, usually in the bathtub, yes, I went thru a lot of  corporate phones...
 Aug 2013 namatsar
Nat Lipstadt
Timeless Poet

Who called me that?
Why make this line item,
A poem?

What means this timeless?
That
There is not enough
Time to elaborate all that I can conceive?

No, mundane, nothing more.
The POW poems arrive at all hours,
And we no longer care when and if you sleep,
For plain the answer, your internal clock, askew,
The answer already poetically enshrined,
Nevermore...

Did you deceive yourself,
As is your vanity customary,
That your scribblings
May last one day longer than your physical self?

Dddddelusionary, like confectionary,
God tasting for a few seconds,
Then it is just a song
Of get a long little doggies!^

Perhaps the phrase reversed,
The meaning peversed?

Poet Timeless.

Ah that's it!
Lay down your crafty pride, egotist,
On theTemple Altar,
It is already but a burnt sacrifice!

Before God, there will always be poets.

Yours the mantle to carry till you fall,
Then another man's children will lift up words
In combinations denied you.

They will take your scribblings,
Rearrange,
Just as you did, unawares,
There is nothing new under the sun,
Especially the illusion that there is
Something unborn yet to say.

Ah Poets,
Egotistical tools,
So easy to fool...





^ http://www.lyricsfreak.com/c/chris+ledoux/get+along+little+doggies_20209623.html
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