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Aug 2013
a scratching modest,
not demanding or shrill,
the need is not great
but persistent,
the urge asks politely
for satisfaction.

if you would be so kind sir,
perhaps my dear,
you could find it within you to,
accommodate a humble request.

write us a poem about nothing,
this bequest,
about this or that,
need not be rant nor praise,
observe, distinguish, or separate,
let It be about nothing much at all.

let a modest whimsy bring rhyming smiling
to many a lip, perhaps a tear or two
would not be out of place,
to keep the inner ear of the soul
straight on the line that demarcates
sanity and sobriety, from the madness of daily life.

couplets and stanzas, irregular, no matter,
iambic pentameter, overkill, too much bother,
perfect simple limericks for a kind hearted fella
would be most satisfactory
-----
Cute but pointless.
No, insufficient, a poem deserves its own import.
So here is the truth,
Here is a sanctified poem
About something!
~~~~
I got friends in this place who deserve better.
They deserve a poem that says:
We are all broken, demonized.
The edge is always near,
But never having laid eyes on you,
You have trusted me with thy struggle,
And I, with hints of mine.

So here is
The Poem,
a
Medal of Honor
I award to us.
A poem about the only four letter word that really matters,
A thousand times more powerful than mere love,
I award to us for bravery conspicuous,
For telling the truth, the hard way,
In words that reveal the persons we are when unmasked,
I award us the
Medal of
Kind.


And someday when our hands shake, hard hugs exchanged
And our smiles won't stop
Than I will say unashamedly,
******, I love you...
My men,
My women
My friends,
My comrades
You know who you are.
In the dark, after midnight.
Where else, when else...
The time when smiles don't come easy,
But when they come,
They come hard, and long,
And they stick around.
Written by
Nat Lipstadt  M/nyc
(M/nyc)   
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