ogdiddynash

1m

Left Foot Poet

today,
walked the river arcade,
by the river~side.
same,
where, & when,
a decade earlier
and a laugh ago,
we performed
a daily differential calculus

of the distance to that line,
a watermark,
where my accidental drowning
would be insurance covered

don’t recall, if back then,
poetry writin’ was a good
a daily companion, or-even
a mere passing acquaintance

but went to
all-in-all-alone-freedom,
found riches,
yet still pressed in rags
of remorse, mourning surely,
until & still a
woman, or
three, rated me a
good looking edible,

even
if only didn't always dress
in black, head to toes, like an
extra cool new yorker, or an
attendee at my own fun~ereal

since those days,
gallons millions, zillions
of brackish seawater has flowed
out to sea as far as
England, Philippines, New Zealand,
whichever be connected to the
rain water of Adirondack mountains
flowing past East 57th Street,

my salty tears replenished,
but time changed the causation,
from oy to joy in simp terms
that rhymes…with me and yours

water woman water woman water
makes the heart capable of weeping
tears of joy,
oh! happy drowning
how do
you cross from woman to water,
that, now I walk on a
water bridge of loving
hard, steel & liquidity of
concrete, smooth roughness
became the path to loving living

#lfp #leftfootpoet

ogdiddynash 5d

Nostalgia for the days, when we poured our own milk!

“Remember when we used to pour our own milk in Starbucks? I miss those days,” one patron wrote nostalgically on X earlier this month... Now in the process of  getting reinstatement…
<>
oddity sujet for a poeme. and it begs with
hidden overtones even, for an overture, please,
even the babes&big babies among us with barely a decade to call their own,
long for the un~
complicated places, days, even the moments
momentous that will resonate evermore,

even the most favored nation of that stuffed
animal, that cannot be dismissed, discarded,
who will join them in their no loco parenting of a
snug single of  a freshman doormroom,
with no shame, when the hungry boys are
permitted entry to the chamber, blushing from the hopefulness's of potency of
getting first  lucky,
foolishly sarcastic remarking on
this sad sacred animal presence, and being subsequently serviley, quick dismissed,
with a stupid,wry twisty, puzzled squared landing on their mouth, where the just sensed
passionate kisses  will  ow/now
never arrive

yes, nostalgic
commences amidst the multiple in ~ puts
from early days, ever on,
sorted, filed, systematically,
in a system greater than the
dewey decimal of our libraries

and we experimented with
numerous pours of variable quantities
of
various “milks”
lesson taught when the station is unbusy,
and cute yong men offer helpful hints,
calorically, nutrient-wise, taste varietals,
and leaving a phone number
on the wax container of the
trialed oat milk
which is so a
thing
hard to miss, hard to lose

perhaps this instant of rapture rappore
will lead to a long life,
maybe till spring semester when
you,
a saturated years older
slightly more cautious,
*and yet^
after a hundred nyets,
in a San Fran Starbucks,
near the first job,
it happens, and memories are
rejiggered, restoring priorities
andy
don’t tell nobody
that stuffed animal
is resting comfortably
on her bedroom
in an apt.
Shared with two others,

To all entering, holy of holies,
as a prescreening no~tech
stuffed, well hugged
animal device will
assign a
pass/fail grade

#ogdidynash #nostalgia #milk #pour

5d

Nat Lipstadt

Follow (1) Too

some words, songs, deeds, once tasted,
are for~evermore, implanted in the cortex’s
core, irremoveable, unstoppable, and
stop you in your tracks,
make you pull off the road,
close your eyes, revisit prior associations,
see places people and colors, scents,

and you’re eighteen again,
life seems easy, opportunity
a challenge, because plentiful,
love is found in so many
eyes, swift smiles, sideways glances,
bespoke adventures, and the only
command your heart insists be
obeyed, instinctively, instantly:

Follow

be not surficially fooled, it is not
requesting you follow any course,
only your own, knowing your
limitations, for you will never
compose a song a poem as beauty
writ as Follow(1)!

no matter, for you want too,
even as an septuagenarian,
your need wakes the body,
with urgency, and fiercely
wish and desire, a re-re-unceasing
orientation
to keep on trying for the rest of
your life, a singular goal to
follow, an idea to lead you to
never folly~follow them elses,
only to let~lead your instincts
to where the greatest need is
met head on,
to create to create to liberate
the busting out impulses to
follow
your own path

(1) Follow
Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.
The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream
The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...

ogdiddynash Oct 6

majestic adjectives of contrary harmonies

majestic adjectives of contrary harmonies
adverbs in adversity that modify our satisfying actions,
gut punch in our eyes, scrambling the taste buds,
now inoperable, incapacitated to differentiate
what is disturbed - what is sweet - what is impossible.

my days ending is nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of what I’ve got left,
stale panko crumbs,
come they in 1000 radium-tipped can-nisters of
seriously humorous self-destruction,
gifted to you by a few itinerant followers,
brave enough to follow me into the depths
majestic, disordered by radioactive incomprehension,
contrary harmonies, of no particular disorder,
a thousand times, a thousand lines, but none
as perfect poetic as a landmark hallelujah

jan 2020

#ogdiddynash #majestic #adjectives

ogdiddynash Sep 21

platitudes and attitudes

platitudes and attitudes
she said
“to find good love,
be receptive, never deceptive,
always ever, never never.”

I listened, warming,
but warning her,
“rhyming is the sophistry
of those who cannot
decide what to write
next”

I drove away,
in just my pajama top,
(my bottoms
retired at the crime scene)
lest she
****** macabre me
like in an Agatha Christie.

I foresaw a drama
developing of her
hanging me by
my bottoms pj,
knotted two by too
tightly trite my leggings
drawn to prevent
the rhyming of my breathing,
each pant to
peeve me
into panting:
one leg named
moon and
the other,
June.

so I decided
what the heck!
I’ll go firstly,
hanging her early,
for the greater sake
of literature

#ogdiddynash #platitudes #and #attitudes

ogdiddynash Sep 21

was untitled, SO he named me after him

he named me after him
he named me after him,
his best ditty ever,
my inheritance,
a laughing brook of
guppy royalties,
that keep our Labrador
reasonably well fed poetically

and of course his name

his name,
which was not so much inherited,
as deposited, X-mark-the-son

they ask,
no, they
declarative announce
as fact,
answered even as asking,
tho their voices rising
in a pretend-questioning format,

are you as good as he was?
Oh no, of course not.

I'm merely the son,
He was the father,
between us now
the celestial
Holy Ghost of Rhyming

#oggdiddynash

Aug 29

Nat Lipstadt

“And don’t mind me ‘cos I ain’t nothing but a dream”

the waters of the Sound, churning,
make my hands a five-in-hand knotted,
full of writhing wriggling writing poem
lines with an go<hesitant~go slow, knowing that,inspiration is daring me, just as the whitecaps are, troubled trolling so nearby,
gone can hear them mocking me with their
17knot ‘breeze,’ your lyrics are but
blowing in the wind, soon enough will
shift to someone else, leavening your
deflation with a non~riser sour-dough mix
of unfinished sadness

in advance, knowings that every poem
more like a Monarch butterfly, here but
for a momentary traversal travesty,
gone faster than the eye blink, and this
infilling fleeing fleet urgency more
likely to die on the pyre of unfinished
rejected draftees, unselected for service

nonetheless ~ “follow” lyrics refuse me
to let~leave a poor tribute to vine~die, the
fingers speak in unison, urging me on,
not wanting to escape from this fantasizing
moment, urging me to tap tap tap
evermore!

“ Come taste and smell the waters of our time,”
Richie invites us all to find our own water,
let it work its magic upon our
nerve endings, but,
mine full of sendings, how?

can one sit seated in the Poet’s Nook,
same vista, no visa required ~
just to see it each time
differently, only the truly creative can love it
so much, that they tip into unexplored unexploited
veins of fresh blood and words
and eyes that discern and earn the ability
to write of the old with new inside insights

those! they are the ones you need to follow!
creators! with a small C, see them feel, see them divine with rod, their original water,
from which they emerged, and drink once more, for the water follows them like nutrients, raw materials that nourishes
and they in turn, return to their watery
birth site, their emotional placentae,
drawing from, returning to it new creations

for all of us to follow, fire our senses,
make us!
make art in all our hearts,
and don’t mind me, just

”close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
‘cos”

We
ain’t nothing but a dream,
our disguised muses visiting,
pleading to be
usefully used…

A recurring line from “Follow” lyrics by Richard Merrick, sung most famously by Richie Havens, who made it his marquee signature song, and a standard, immediately ’ recognizable by anyone who listened to music in the Sixities (20th century)

<>
Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.
The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream
The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...
Source: Musixmatch

#follow #richie #havens