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Apr 2014
I am no judge of good character
(think I am the greatest poet-***-bf ever)

I used to be a sharp dresser,
(then to the time twisted testing,
t'is of tiny import sense succumbed)

I used to love woman by the score
(Ha! fooled ya, still do, will dying do so,
but caught in a single spider's heartweb,
I read, and I love, and cheat only nowadays
with weak eyes and strong words)

I used to be young in heart,
(self impressed at my talented prose,
but then my eyes grew keener,
the more I read, the older I got,
the more others led me faster,
sweeter to the promised land)

so I trip 'n skip in the waterfall pool,
that forms where the poems cascading
are laid down to peaceful repose to keep,
and too oft, sad uneyed loneliness

yet, I see a graffiti on the clear bottom,
white paint upon an earthen rock,
wipe away the eddys, put aside the ego,
lift it, lift me up, that stone,
with caressing care to read:

So Jo Was Here

oh indeed indeed in deed another poet,
who blues my heart with words modest,
in combinations that say to me
you knew that, but not till now!

how did she know that

words and words and -
ironies usurp courage
adventure scowls unsated
Times New Roman ****
pixels unconsummated
similes sin-taxed for hits
stale nefarious negging
all heros on the page
reality waits begging

I read and I think
did I not write these words?

love is a bittersweet borrowed lie
time is a slowly emptied sigh
deception is the sharpest yet rustiest lance
and rage the slowest, saddest dance
while truth's just polished-up confusion
with words - the slipperiest illusion

But I did not!
nope but I read them cause

So Jo Was Here

stoked and croaking,
addicted, I read on
only to find my mirror image
once again, one mo' time crime

But I was held unknotted only,
oblivion teetering on the pinch
of a thumb and forefinger.

Until slowly but cynically,
gasp by gasp,
all was forced out, and when
the moment came to go,
there was nothing left to go on

so it is written, so it will be read

then you can say too,
as I did, as I here confess,
in my recesses unexplored,
trembled to find,
overjoyed to be
me revealed
cause:

*So Jo Was Here
Read http://hellopoetry.com/so-jo-was-here/

it would criminal not to....
Nat Lipstadt
Written by
Nat Lipstadt  M/nyc
(M/nyc)   
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