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 Jun 2014 Natalie R
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
They gave me pills
Because they said I was different
"You're not the same. You're sad"
The bad thoughts were more frequent
Than the good
But the pills
They made me numb
No good or bad
No excitement or passion or anger
I am numb
Looking for something to give me feeling
getting ready
to face
my biggest fear,
to live the day
which i know
mostly will be
the last day
of you
in my present tense
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
Nat Lipstadt
June 11, 2011
Updated on Father's Day 2013

Father's Way: Tell me a story, Dad

what power we possess,
when the innocent demand,
at the time of cozy bed and
"Tell me a story,"

to gentle the monsters
in the closet of their heads,
grant them a peace naive that's lost after
they learn the words that start with D,
(disappointment, death),
till then,
promises unfettered,
the best yet to come.

the story,
you, grantor,
they, grantees.

scent their dreams,
perfume their dreams,
sprinkle their safety net, blanky, rag doll:
- scent with mom's hairspray and
dad's special smell,
musk, balsam, gasoline and body odor

- scent with cherrywood falsehoods to caress,
till morning's burnished glory ascends,
thru window, tenderize the cheeks of my babes,
prep them for the truths
to be learned that day.

in tones most imploring,
glances fawning,
t'is us, we,
them do deceive,    
for adult arrogance demands
in God we Trust,
that they,
will believe our words,
will indeed,
make them rest
till new day's slow and subtle dawning

t'is the same tomfoolery that leads us
to drink repeatedly
from the trough of
best laid plans and self-deception

you believed your own narrative
would be the one he,
your dad scripted,
while standing day-dreaming,
sweating on subway platform,
admiring beaches and beauties,
from station walls lifted,
waiting for the train
that only eventually comes

that train, that station,
whose smell reminds you
of mom's hairspray and dad's special smell,
(musk, balsam and motor oil, and body odor),
a ******* reminder of dreams yet uncrystallized,
and stories your father told,
tho train has come,
they have not

write me a narrative, Dad,
and please advise
if tinker or tailor will be my trade,
fix my details, dear pater,
par example,
pick my institution of higher learning,
my future alma mater,
on my day of birth,
promise me gentility,
no harm no foul,  and mirth,
all the days of my life.

please advise
if I shall be a
wife abuser, communist, or
a **** vanilla
****** poet/user

word rich and pocket poor,
stealing ideas from everyone,
red blooded or blue~green,
a true believer, a born again,
an agnostic, my own truths,
to disabuse

tell me father,

will I die warmed,
surrounded by generations of my progeny
or in pauper's grave,
a life long ward of
a one true mate,
in loco parentis all of my days,
making me a child, a dependent,
of casa noster paternal state?

Please Pop,
pick wise,
the life and lies,
the faces and disguises,
I will need employ to
achieve success
in the eyes of my reading beholders,
who own the liens on my soul
because of the promises I believed,
when you sang me
glowing lullabies of my future days,
how everyone would
love my stories,
my poems,
Reposting - first posted here 366 days ago...
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
I have so much to give to you
And you have so much to take
Im kissing the ground you walk on
So Give me a ******* break
Do you even think of me
When you're lying there half awake
The way you touch me
It Makes my body ache
How am I supposed to feel
When you tell me this is all fake
Can this all just ******* stop
I'm going to pull the emergency brake
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
Finger to her lips
Under covers
Alone we thought
No more
Hit hit hit
She was ripped from my arms
Hands legs heart mind
Her mouth said "Its ok"
But her eyes said something else
They never touched me
But I was bruised
Black blue red
Blood dripped from my eyes
Whats the point of having them If
I can't see her
It's been four months since
Her beauty graced my pathetic existence
Her pale skin marked with scars and bite
I miss her teeth
Her mouth
Blossoming lips
Fingers flat
To her lips
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
I know
It's my fault
We are going nowhere
But I still want to pretend
That you're an angel
And you saved me
I still want to *******
Until you beg me to stay
But I don't
And you tell me to go away
Because I am just hurting you
And I just want to hurt you
But I'll go
And I'll eat my words
I'll walk walk walk
I won't run
Because I still want you
To want me
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
Nat Lipstadt
∑  nPk,   ∝ ≫ x! π f (x) ∞ x ≡ φ 3√a N(μ,σ2) <:)

In English:
The sum of the probabilities that your poem will trend is proportional, but greater than the factorial of the constant pi, when the function of x is leminscate (infinity), and when the value of the x variable is identical to the golden ratio constant, or when the cubed root of the normal distribution of love.

you well.

It is the word you supply,
when asked
100 times a day

How are you?

How ya doing?


I am well.

for my life, my poetry,
me, all of us,
are trending,
now that I have found,
found and solved,
the formula for
my-piece of the
Normal Distribution
of love
 Jun 2014 Natalie R
Sam Temple
engaging the clutch
smoothly transitioning through the gears
easing the accelerator
speeding into a new experience
dust trail follows behind
holding the past
in a fuzzy grasp
to lost ideals
fading in the rearview
unknown curves lie ahead
dangerous slides
rocky passes
filled with potheads
trading progress
for papers
pushing through the normal modes
I find myself in uncharted territory
new lands
strange formations
exciting prospects
seeking unridden waves
and buried caverns
I explore my new surroundings
as a university graduate
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