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  Mar 2017 Nat Lipstadt
betterdays
I sit amongst
people I know
people who have
the same blood
and the same
historic milestones

and yet we are so different

i feel the black sheep coat
knitting itself about me once more
high turtle neck choking me
and wool coarse, causing my soul
to itch and raise hives...

as i sit  with family
but excluded by feelings
both mine and their
I must be true
and cry mea culpa... too

when  I was younger
I ran to the end of my tether
and was held to the family tree
by mere threads  
of silken spider web loyalty

then as I aged  
I reeled myself
back to the shore
of shared mythology

only to find my time
of freedom at the
end of the line
gave me a permanent
feeling of never having
been there...

and now as they visit
the mother of us all
we sit in polite conversation
about the progeny of us
and I think that
our particular dysfunction
is more of an exclusion
of the intricate nature
of bonding and care...

we are tied loosely
this bundle of family sticks
and I fear once
the bind that ties
the love of our mother
most dear
is torn from us
even now
she is threadbare
and once that is broken

our nature of exclusion
will scatter us to the wind
.....a family tree laid bare
This is me, trying to understand the pathways my brothers and I have taken....and will take as my mother's health continues to decline..... forgive me if it is mawkish...
  Mar 2017 Nat Lipstadt
Left Foot Poet
She, my cutter,
my body, her cutting,
with tongue and finger nail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's configuring delight

she, grabs my wrist,
and my face
by her hands embraced,
unblemished once
now becomes scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise -
all forsaken
hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art

no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys


for our love cuts both ways
  Mar 2017 Nat Lipstadt
onlylovepoetry
all my poems begin with the weather,
overlaid with time and place

comforting certitude,
cocktail of calibration,
calculating precision,
a surety bonding.
a shared time and space
with humanity


all my poems end with
"if only,"
incessant self-queryimg, imbalanced cowardice,
a yellowing shadow of red doubt,
overwhelming black stain of a starless night sky,
an inconsequential infection
coveting my weakfish earthbound innards

tyranny of selfish doubt,
the cowardly safety of 'not me'
the pockmarked constellation of
everything tragic body tattooed,
the Cain mark you hide beneath the torn skin
of being
only human

all my poems end with whether
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2017
the higher standard
~
the excuse jar emptied,
plenty of time,
still flush with inside insights
but end all, stillborn, flushed

poems entitled,
but not embodied,
the cards dealt,
but each hand folded,
the stack of chips
slowly diminished,
many small ventures
for no gain

a verse, a stanza
but no bonanza,
the mirror of mine own
editorial critical gaze enhanced,
judges the work unpurposed,
nothing passes muster
not a one invited to the
high school last dance

even this lamentation
by way of explanation,
itself defective,
but yet slogging on,
progresses - perhaps

paper and pen
long since discarded,
yet mental imagery of myself,
surrounded by mountains
of crumpled drafts
rising up to fill the  
surrounding empty floor spaces,
feels so real, I am, ha ha,
floored and flummoxed

somewhere  unbeknownst how,
received a crucifixion transfusion,
the mind's blood now tainted
by this holier barrier,
subsequently diagnosed as
an official human ailment -
the higher standard

the faucet of words
fills the sink,
disordered, spouted molecules,
despite the clarity of water,
reformation needy for a reformatting

nothing suffices,
the quench unmet,
this purifying filter imposition -
the higher standard
reduces my scribbling scriptures,
to ashen dust, scattered
among the gigabytes
in a rented cloud

supposedly available for resurrection,
when the Messiah of Satisfactory
arises from the place,
where all messiahs await,
for further testing,
all caught, but none released

even this mea culpa to myself,
unsatisfactory, barely avoiding,
the usual suspects of inadequacy
and almost discarded,
nearly failing the language barrier,
the last test,
is it worthy of disseminating?
  Feb 2017 Nat Lipstadt
lmnsinner
fallow lay in a field, neath soil well over-tilled,
the bones of explanations, excuses, and desperation,
a singular self-destructive but upward thrusted commandment,
compose a poem of revelation,
a poem of destiny and unknown destination

of thee, I write, ashen standing,
with the poker face of a lying son,
before the father confessor mirror,
stand with palms facing outward,
with perfect calm and utter fright

for every nominated error listed below,
when confronted,
hopeless the innocence,
easier now to admit,
with perfect clarity, your innermost
confabulatory familiar friends,
rise to the fire,
first and foremost

belabor not with supposed ratiocinations,
put aside, your ration of
conjured up-for-all, and-all-for-naught excuses,
the prosecutors charges, so thoroughly distinguished,
it disables, speech, vision, all reason extinguished

as the lips and fingers silent move,
the hopeless knowledge of a pardon of 99.9%,
untenable, ransacks,
for what passerby criminal thought
has not resided in your head,
the hearth of who you are?

you,
write of nature, love, celestial notions,
the Etcetera's of life, but to me,
leave the exposure of our uncompressed,
here revealed sinning,
for among those who
unashamedly acknowledge
the intertwining nature of
human failings, and for the balance,
uncap our divine imagery

you write at of those other
nuanced pleasures,
nature, love, celestial notions,
while the sinners wrestle with
the angelic demons of
confrontation and revelation

for your own sake and saving,
do not wrestle with me
for sinners love, welcome
company
For the sin which we have committed before You under duress or willingly.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by hard-heartedness.

For the sin which we have committed before You inadvertently.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with an utterance of the lips.

For the sin which we have committed before You with immorality.

And for the sin which we have committed before You openly or secretly.

For the sin which we have committed before You with knowledge and with deceit.

And for the sin which we have committed before You through speech.

For the sin which we have committed before You by deceiving a fellowman.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by improper thoughts.

For the sin which we have committed before You by a gathering of lewdness.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by verbal [insincere] confession.

For the sin which we have committed before You by disrespect for parents and teachers.

And for the sin which we have committed before You intentionally or unintentionally.

For the sin which we have committed before You by using coercion.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by  desecrating the Divine Name.

For the sin which we have committed before You by impurity of  speech.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by foolish  talk.

For the sin which we have committed before You with the evil  inclination.

And for the sin which we have committed before You knowingly or unknowingly.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

For the sin which we have committed before You by false denial and lying.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a bribe-taking or a bribe-giving hand.

For the sin which we have committed before You by scoffing.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by evil talk  [about another].

For the sin which we have committed before You in business  dealings.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by eating  and drinking.

For the sin which we have committed before You by [taking or  giving] interest and by usury.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a haughty demeanor.

For the sin which we have committed before You by the prattle of our lips.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a glance of the eye.

For the sin which we have committed before You with proud looks.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with impudence.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

For the sin which we have committed before You by casting off the yoke [of Heaven].

And for the sin which we have committed before You in passing judgment.

For the sin which we have committed before You by scheming against a fellowman.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a begrudging eye.

For the sin which we have committed before You by frivolity.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by obduracy.

For the sin which we have committed before You by running to do evil.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by tale-bearing.

For the sin which we have committed before You by swearing in vain.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by causeless hatred.

For the sin which we have committed before You by embezzlement.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by a confused heart.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a burnt-offering.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a sin-offering.

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a varying offering [according to one's means].

And for the sins for which we are obligated to bring a guilt-offering for a certain or doubtful trespass.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of lashing for rebelliousness.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of forty lashes.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of death by the hand of Heaven.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of excision and childlessness.

And for the sins for which we incur the penalty of the four forms of capital punishment executed by the Court: stoning, burning, decapitation and strangulation.

For [transgressing] positive and prohibitory deeds, whether [the prohibitions] can be rectified by a specifically prescribed act or not, those of which we are aware and those of which we are not aware; those of which we are aware, we have already declared them before You and confessed them to You, and those of which we are not aware --- before You they are revealed and known
  Feb 2017 Nat Lipstadt
onlylovepoetry
a teeny tiny
whited-out blank space,
the tenuous boundary that separates,
higher man from untamed beast,
so powerful when respected,
the crowning hallmark of human acclamation
we all do wear by right of birth and breathe


you see it right?

that invisible peaceful white
spatial, tiny yet palatial dot that separates
us from rack and ruin,
the mighty differential pause between

in civility and incivility

come not to preach or harangue,
my counsel kept within the
between beats of a mournful drum,
respectfully and slowly banged

each silent separation a prayerful plea,
the inserted peacekeepers of our spoken words,
employ well those powerful pauses that refresh
the speaker and the listener so well

leave behind your
self-righteous disbelief in others' beliefs,
that morphs into no toleration,
an arrogant surety,
that surely the ****-ytical results of
your thoughtful processes,
inevitability correct and brook no resistance

the shrill strumpets
of either side
confidently worship at no church
but to the false gods
of their own mirrored reflection,
who smiles back approvingly
at those who scream the loudest...

outlaw the outrage of your rage,
come to my white clothed table,
put aside the wrath of overbearing,
represent your disparate conclusions
with harmonious, breathable pauses
to reflect and respect
our distinctive and distinguished differences

no one ever lost a reasoned argument
that began with a considered, well tempered

good morning

what has this to do with
only love poetry?


*well, everything...for you must love thy neighbor
as you love yourself
Feb. 2017
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
J'accuses
me,
that Stevie Rhymer
felony thievery, wholesale robbery,
of them blunts of good words,
and stashed the hiding fumes in my lungs

plead guilty,
with a Cool Hand Luke
studied pretense and a
huge ear to ear smirking of a
"who me"
innocence

it seems mucho unseemly,
bright pink tongue laughable,
stealing that chaste yellowed white chaff conceptual,
innocenctal,
cause i'm knowing it's well buried, lost-littered,
across the poppies of a poem-field
GPS mapped as
My Very Own Private Flanders

this one-night-only lynching of a yoga-flexible,
occasional reappearing conscience,
taking a short bow,
loosened by a
Manufactured in the USA,
cross-continental heat seeking arrowed
verbal verdict

soul and control,

two words that should rhyme,
but don't,
so in the valley of the bleached bones,
find me spending my last San Fran dime,
entrance fee to the accountant's confessional,
who greets me with a quizzical
why the hell are you prepaying this year's sin tax?

this confessing gig
awfully tiring,
like locating all those
?'s, periods and commas,
punk'd punchuation on the the keyboard,
of who you are

yeah, stole them all, them words,
burnt off the serial killing numbers,
now untraceable, masked in a thousand poems
that no one commissioned and barely read

in a vision,
i see my Barre gray gravestone appropriately blank,
steel cut smooth,
like a clean sheet of foolscap

an enterprising thief came along,
stole all the useful
Alphabets and numerals
to my vociferous silent applause

you see Stevie,
all those good words,
and literary hints from an over educated man,
ain't worth a good *******,
when u just lazy emoji these days

so take 'em, anyone,
great honor to me to see them
pray rise someone else's field,
in a new poem
by somebody else
J'accuse; look up Emile Zola

"In Flanders Fields" is a war poem in the form of a rondeau, written during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae.


San Fran dime; look up lyrics to theSan Francisco Bay Blues

sin  taxes;
just google them

Barre, Vermont Granite

ditto Cool Hand Luke
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