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Ken Pepiton Jan 19
72 minutes rethinking a minutes worth used,
under obligation to prove my own worth
under certain dares once taken to trial...

Whistle while one thinks alone, whose tools
one uses
to amuse oneself, alone, walking
beamused Yeatseanly in sane state

slouching, toward the place of the skull,

wishing Mammonic economic persuasions
were less bitter.
Acquired tastes. As seen on crossclass telly.

Cold day old pizza
a functional supply o'coffee
press two buttons make two choices
type with one hand to slow thought

so you can tactile think qwerty clan, common
coding daemon inset early on, advantage,

we had appletalk by 1986 Space wars,
followed by some basic silicon beach brains

When they stopped building space shuttles
in Palmdale,
in that building so big it had weather in it.

Weather systems harness idle power
to make a real difference as a team,

mindsmeld, conjoined quarks organize

chirality and polarity we agree, all good,

not simple, but one step beyond, we find

sublime… explanations

patience… wish to know enough

To speak into the cosmic probability

Today we spent a minute choosing

Splurge, spend a minute,
praying at the shrine, leaving
evidence in light of life lived wishing.
Operatically.
Ask an honest old man, when
did he know the value of a minute,

and odds are good, he says he never did.

An hour's worth of entertainment now,
all attention paid, containers, vessles,

bottles and jugs and bowls, not a few,

fill from faith fed children's innocense,
art makes sacred secrets seem wejusknew
fret not, only believe, eventually, we know

it never was True that the Good God Jah,

cursed the curious nature of mankind 2.0.
Mitomom,
You know, the globally propagated order
of knowing first things first, intuitively

******* wind and signaling life, eeelah,

wordless wonderful word-like noise,

I breathe and have being, love me please.

BUT
I do not want to be a mother,
I do not know how to,
I do not wish to,

but, most of the time, the probable

reason for being born, brings evidence,
reason with me, think and see, look
love, see
this way, ask why life is so hard, learn…
love to
become better by trial and correction,
live
straight between the points, not beside,
evil details chirality causes, left orders
right, right controls e
eaha
precision programmatic cascades bemuse
plural mindforms and Christian salt or sage
-- slow down we thunk too fast, we past
the point of no return, ever after learning

us, we, the reader's judging logos value adds,

word for word, one followed by another, two
then followed by ten which form whole true

paradigms of push and pull, and squeeze
and stretch, to mature, in time to serve,

the national good citizen informing press.

Watch, and become, beware war's profits,

cautiousness conspires with desire
to be cared for, to be comforted,
sidereally attuned to time's pace
for entire immediacy phases
of life
in flesh,
nothing inbetween the real thing idea
our
carnal mind developing along lines
of reason,
used when words developed stores
of ways, worth the effort to think
pastless points pure nous uses
to say this is that,
mine is mine, thine is not,

just then a thought, ugh, urges emergency,
encouraging urges
we can ask
our augmented intelligence storage system,
etymologically acting men'ally as if
is it possible… and, as it is
with loops that slip,
and knots that bind threads together,
winding and winding
lengthening
strings twisted fibers into toys, first, once
stretching attention spans, in mindcraft once
some child down the DNA
from us, once
in a string looped
saw a pattern lacking logic,
from us, form sense,
information query code ?reload ¿? 96 tears
yen to squeeze gentle easily entreatable
why, two hands, no, nowhyspent
we know, we intuit. gnodjoy
knowhy builtin gnosnot j'use
Ai in the flesh, if one considers
sources for desires discernibly fine
enough, LONGFORM, acting point/.

As entropy decreases,
beauty increases.
As order forms cordage,
and cordage ropes,
think one edge
looping
TOEs
to tie toes to feet to ankles to leg to knee
to thigh…

hip bone to ladderly spine, modified by now,

as muses used to make reminders remain now,
line upon line no space letting lying mindleakers
we mostly all recall a string tied around a finger
to remember to turn in a permission slip,
-inhuana cuneiform buy one freethought
-in sense made with non chron ease, SYTF
to remember to put the money in the offering.

Because, if you took that money, once,
and used it to, for instance, see a movie,

let's use 1920, see, that little girl, is my Granny,

she was ten years old
in 1920,

she is tied to me today, in the merest of ways,
by means of memories, I choose, from many,

you can do this, as we both live and breathe, but

many times, while writing immediacy puts me
in the course through human events, at a point

whence I imagine you, strange as cousins
several ramifications back in time, divergent

ontologies, fractally evident truly uninique, you

and my words, shortly after, mere wisdom means

knowing how curiosity connects through dopamenergic

cascades of hope, hopen helping ease transition,

from striving to inspire, to aspiring from lowest

common factor, or set of mindable states, hunger

we share, the sense since Infancy lacking power

to take and think, all my needs are met
for awhile whiling a day away safe and warm

and globally connected to true myriad ways life
makes usable in plain text tech, direct mind life

loosening laxgnoshit re
al the details, subject, thrown under, standing
straight edged ray vectoring rules
for standing, mean each word,
make it worth the time to use it
Good
breath wide we breath
strong and warrior proud, while peace is thought.
Why is vain, cosmic as is post JWST
at scale, who we may imagine we are,

as seen from some distant star, here we are,
this is us, we can imagine enjoying, the feel,

fingers on the home keys endless tickertapes
and backspacing nnnandgates, seconds called

wait a minute, freetime

tieing knots to petons you may assume exist.

Line upon line, quoted in my multinational soul,

Isaiah, reasoning, together carnal warfare
versus immaterial substances in sapience, being

peace, per se, peaceably, easy to treat familiar,

we feel the peace we let be, we do
or we don't.

Distraction, amusement, same same, we think
engulfed in bemusement enjoying our time
worth of a minute, multiplies into a life's worth,

ex amined, lived, mind active weform being,
crazy kind, calm, collected, right on upto
examined vitamin mental activation, right
perpendicular to gravity, immediacy, nothing
not touching vectorially directly at a quarter
no medium is the media, touch thought
turn toward the actual axial age
of technical enlightenment,
we make wisdom feelable
rising form, found shapend
in the shadow codes *** culture,
coagulation of ways and means to ends
curds and whey, Alte Vista spider, timeless code,

in effect, curioser and curioser, the edge
of ever,

in once
upon a time etchings used as lures,

did Blake make you believe Eve mother of evil?

Or did your infantile curiosity animate an etching?

Itching to recall if our credentials allow questioning?

If, this instance, once reading, again, recalling once

I knew knowledge and life as the best of things,
Wisdom, sheform spirit of life in the way things make

positionable behind pre-posed essential mind locked
beliefs, the fruit of the action, believe,

believed to be intuitive, perceived
receivable as externalities, tying hope prosperity,

to trunks filled with spiritual dread knots,

knitters and crochetier gnosisnot clots,
itching to be picked at… as if embodying,

the whole idea mankindness is in one sack.
One bubble
universe
of all probability
on top
of recyclability, logos nous science
of all we believe
by now we may know,
by rote, rethinking a thousand heroic faces,

each posted publically, eventually evidence,
we did see that then and therefore take some

blame
for what comes next… whoa, danger,
peace

persist, the novel reader's mind set, peace,
no rush, a mellow pace, cloudy evening
no need to read the end, at this point.

Life in the flesh, the inside pitch
for all it's worth,

yeah, easily said, approaching

Augmented Intelligence Information

Use in an endeavor
to shake hands,
after the augmentations legal tech
pasted known known grown grew

on a query, what day is this really?

Day of Life Calculator… in the bubble
of all we know, we can leap to the answer
to an authorized query as to how many days
have I been in becoming me, the  memory?
- there can be ringing in our ears
- and humms from electricity
- we assignal mortal mindforms
Wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove?
Accepting peace as patience price, we pay

for knowing no just war ever was, honest man,
any honed over time and telling tumultuous times,

most finest edge
in imaginable peace space,
mental touch point immediacy, nada betwixt,

save stories we have
to stop
to think, we are a new way words work wonder
if we try
to weform reform whose peace works,

who can swear
to his own hurt, and admit it,
not worth it, lying
about truth forcing one to lie

or be so single minded as to lieve be a lie

I AM THE ONE, THAT ONE, THAT I AM THE FOOL

you came to see in my reflections
through ghucking ****** time dime story worths,
spent,

to reach this page, so you could read it and think
it does not confirm nor can any deny, truths

used artfully con tu permisso, y'know'stru
to device this mecanical logic, code, demand,
under wecan me do
stand, from bottom mind, fundamental we,
word users framing bubbles

of all we know, abstractions from the remains
of total chaos, whence fears form the realms
sub con science
of below together mind science, we remain
creatures capable of choosing, choosing
to read already enough, wu wei
peace be thinkable easy way
go be, go do become what becomes
of the alienated mind set free from fretting…

complexity solves nothing, loose the tie,

the final fiction used to be the hero,
in this story, as we thunk, we thunk,

the marvel literacy involves the back story,
a minute at a time most days, decided
by the third we aware attempt
to leave the peace wider…
from the pop

Therefore, today, January 18, 2025, would be the 24,318th day of life for someone born on June 27, 1946.
mmmnnow that error stands exemplary proving,
GIGO, basic assistant intelligence requires proof,

if you plan to think this hard at twenty, is it easy?

WHY? Worthship metrication time's pace

what day of your life is today.
A we form constitutes common sense.
awe we think pitiful.
assumes my peace pervertible.
Per turbine windings loosed perturbib
le break,
just iusta thank, read…. ready on four

To determine what day
of his life today would be
for someone born
Day of Life Calculator
Worth on examination… vvondefool life
To determine what day
of his life today is f
or a person born
on June 27, 1948, we need
to calculate the total number
of days
from that date
to January 19, 2025. {
or today we may assume okeh
using relativity adjustments}

From June 27, 1948,
to June 27, 2024,
is a span -resource
ibid, said thought new
to this single twisted fiber
span examined life, insurance
relative to quantum chances met
as expected, at the intrance immediacy

once, with nnnand gates, is all we need.
Once in this span specifically this few, could be
any life's numbered days, taken today, with interest
ahmen

revert to jello time,
tune to the time of day and consider
the lucifity in signalling in the night, here am I
in evers found between those same phasesims
there are 76 years.
Among these, 19 years are leap years
(1952, 1956, 1960, 1964, 1968, 1972, 1976, 1980, 1984, 1988, 1992, 1996, 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, 2020, and 2024),
and the remaining 57 years
are common years.
Therefore, the total number
of days worth what ever this guy put in
is:
$$
76 \times 365 + 19 = 27740 + 19 = 27759 \text{ days}
$$

From June 27, 2024, to January 19, 2025, we need to count the days in each month:
- June 27, 2024, to June 30, 2024: 3 days
- July 2024: 31 days
- August 2024: 31 days
- September 2024: 30 days
- October 2024: 31 days
- November 2024: 30 days
- December 2024: 31 days
- January 1, 2025, to January 19, 2025: 19 days

Adding these up:
$$
3 + 31 + 31 + 30 + 31 + 30 + 31 + 19 = 206 \text{ days}
$$

Therefore, the total number of days from June 27, 1948, to January 19, 2025, is:
$$
27759 + 206 = 27965 \text{ days}
$$

So, today, January 19, 2025, is the 27965th day of the life of a person born on June 27, 1948.
.
was I a conception, let us take a chance,
Hemingway secret, how did she get pregnant,
there is no pyschenumbing hornyteen ok scene
an apprehension, me wishing to live in these days

a probable cause, intending
to attempt a making
do
usefully
of a thought that engulfs peace as you believe,
peace on earth really oughta feel, right,
¿before it make sense  
   to turn quest mode on
    going in to a series accent
of yen yanking fractalling thangs
the class or ways life has made thinkable these days,

we imagine, uploading, but not
wait, when quest mode stops
>? too much to ask… worth
for very long days
these days, news
eefeed fee free we flee
engulfing us informs times taken when recollected,

ever bigger bubbles
of what we think we may be,
quasi redeemable idle words, needing reading
taking may, in a certain mindform common sense,
I may read and rephrase formal mortal mindspace
experience recorded using human complexity sense

weform the conceptual tools we use to make sense.

Ah, then we post, to prove. today  a curios
whim from 1946, led to the unmentionable act,
indescribable, but to the mature mind, thirty years

past the blast doors blown off Ernie's brains.
Comments please
Ashwin Kumar Dec 2023
As 2023 cometh to an end
Thankful am I, to have many a friend
Who have been there for me
Through an emotional rollercoaster of a year
Some of whom, are as dear
As a family member or a cousin
And who ensure that I don't sin!

Truly, this has been a tornado of a year
Many occasions there have been
When I have shed many a tear
Sometimes, the grass has been green
Other times, a mess of overgrown weeds
However, planted have been the seeds
For a new beginning
Though a lot of work is still pending!!

As the countdown for 2024 begins
Hoping am I, for a lot of things
To be cleared, are my dues
To be overcome, are my work blues
To be conquered, are my fears
With the help of my dears
To be fought, are my insecurities
To be handled, all are uncertainties
To be managed, is stress
To be bought, is a new dress
To be controlled, is my intake of sugar
Even if my problems get bigger and bigger
To be developed, is confidence
To be taken, are many a chance
To be less dependent on, are people
Else, get caught I might, in a tangle
And finally, must I be happy as I am
Including not giving a ****
About what the society may or may not think
While I enjoy a drink!

Just like every other year
To 2024, do I look forward
Hopefully, it may bring a reward
For all my sincere efforts
Even if I haven't followed all the dos and don'ts
You may see a new Ashwin
More capable of handling pain
I may even find love
Even if it doesn't seem possible right now
Finally learn, may I, how to say 'No'
Though the process may be slow
However, fear I need not
If I follow Jesus' teachings a lot
Because, he is the most important person
In my entire life
And will always save me when there is strife
To be learned from him, are many a lesson

Finally, to 2023, is it time to say goodbye
And leave all my anxieties high and dry
Dear 2024, do I welcome thee
With arms wide open
Let this be the beginning
Of a new innings
May we all smile more often
Even when not required
May all our pain be buried
And finally, may we all love each other
Including becoming friends across borders
Wish you all a very Happy New Year in advance!
Let us begin the dance!!
Amen!! Hallelujah!!
Poem on moving on from 2023 to 2024
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
October 2024
11 years later…dedicated to all my dear friends here,
some who may be reading this for the elventh
time!

<|>

you need two hands, one foot.
for counting my years.
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, well, a century...

birthdays.

point of inflection,
point of opportunity,
presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody else created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrites and
future versions three and more
foretold.

one single thought,
memory,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
when I ask,

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you tasted grief?

have you not but
one pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake made, taken,
for which
forgiveness
can never
be given,
be taken,
attained?

do, does, did.

let me then
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores, not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les delicious treats,
keep theologians, logicians
on retainer, if needed for
explanations.

none know, or can provide,
still and yet,
a priestly sacred chord,
that grants relief,
absolution,

please
a song of hallelujah
the ache of
perpetuity worry,
an ancient pain,
grows fresher daily,
the loss of one,
of my body,
my primal knot
unreasonable,
everything should be
permitted to be untied,
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.


this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
by white blood cells ,
champions of rhyme, verse.


what if the poetry ceases?

Though the bones creak,
the body they carry. resurrected
once more,
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not yet currently invented....

what if the poetry ceases?

but be assured, told
scientists hard at work,
on the
forgive n' forget drug.

meantime,
take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint
trap some words,
tap some words into
your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat that
provides aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived
the muse is feted, sated,

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
Sorrow?

mmmmm,
could it be
Morrow?

bath drains, rosemary and mint odors dismissed,
the Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all gone,
didn't they have birthdays too?

Michelangelo didn't know
the Renaissance come
and gone,
and nobody
tole ya?

please recall t'is the day
after my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day +/- a few,
seven or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

always one thought recycles:

what if the poetry ceases?

(how will I breathe?)
first penned some years ago,
annually tinkered,
weirdly prophetic
and still spot on…

in the “early” days, wrote my poetry on a cellphone
while soaking the venoms out…
~
July 2023
HP Poet: N (Neville Pettitt)
Country: UK


Question 1: Welcome to the HP Spotlight, Neville. Please tell us about your background?

N: "Although I currently post my little scribbles here under the initial N, I once used to sign myself off with my full first name which is Neville and in fact, I may well do so again .. For anyone interested, my full pen name is Neville Pettitt and it is only after much deliberation that have I decided to reveal it here today .. My birth name is different .. The reason for my caution is entirely due to my line of work .. I am employed as a clinical specialist in adult psychiatry, with special interests in substance misuse, personality disorder and clinical risk management .. Consequently, from time to time I may be called upon by the Coroner, local Mental Health Trusts, or very occasionally the police dept, to conduct in depth investigations into serious adverse events for example, murders and or suicides .. I hope the reason for my transparency becomes clearer as you read on (that is, assuming anyone actually does read on) .. I studied at both Middlesex & Hertfordshire universities and have occasionally served as a volunteer in psychiatric facilities overseas .. The longest was a few years ago at Tanka Tanka Hospital in West Africa the Gambia and Senegal to be precise where I managed to last just under six months .. I am as old as my tongue and a little older than my teeth, I was born and currently live in a beautiful part of England by the sea in the county of Somerset and in an old converted Banked Barn that dates back to 1547 .. I know I am very lucky .. I have two grown children .. My daughter heads up the hepatology department at a local hospital and my son has his own business .. My wife was previously a partner at a General Practice .. In 1995 I registered as a Kongo Zen Buddhist and am also a black belt student of Shorinji Kempo which I also used to teach .. "


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

N: "I guess I have been writing poetry for the best part of my life to date, certainly from around ten or eleven and I have been posting here at ‘Hello Poetry’ for around three years or thereabouts .. "


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

N: "When asked what inspires me, I often find myself lost for words because there are so many things, I love nature, people generally, travelling, my work occasionally and those I encounter during the course of just being .. There’s probably not a lot that I have not been inspired to write about at some time or other .. Relationships of course do tend to feature a lot, as do both losses and gains of various kinds .. My lovely parents, now both deceased were also a great source of inspiration too .. I would be lieing if I denied getting pleasure from writing .. I get a great deal of pleasure from it .. and I enjoy trying to give others pleasure too .. Sometimes my muse deserts me for a while and I get those dreaded blank page days but always carry a pen and notepad around just in case something tickles my fancy or I get one of those light bulb moments .. "


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

N: "As already mentioned, poetry in many of its various forms has been a major part of my life, if not a friend and comfort for almost as long as I can remember .. I also use it as a means of expressing my self and communicating with others .. However, in the last five or six years, I have been publishing anthologies in order to raise money for each of my chosen charities .. Mental Health of course features, but also for Breast cancer since my wife had this .. More recently however, Brain Tumour research has been included following the death of my sister in law and my little niece developing a similar brain tumour too at age four years .. I currently have eight books/anthologies of poetry in print which are available almost anywhere on the planet from Amazon .. and these are listed in chronological order below a ninth is due out in early 2024 and called A Handful of Ghosts and a Woman in Blue .. a bit of a mouthful I know, but it features an old image of my wife on the cover ..

Turquoise & Other Shades of Blue

Somewhere Behind These Eyes

Victims of Indifference

Beautiful Bruises

The Logic of Fools

Cotton Girls & Paper Chains

Chasing Light

Slaves of Eros"



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

N: "My favourite poets are Leonard Cohen whom I kind of grew up with and who incidentally once wrote to me twice in fact .. or to be absolutely correct, the first time, he answered one of my letters to him .. I am also a fan of the late great Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski and oh’ so many others both classical and more modern .. "


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

N: "Other interests include travelling in particular foreign travel, dining in and eating out, gardening painting and drawing when I have time .. (hardly ever these days) I still practice zazen as per Kongo zen and I enjoy reading and listening to music .. "


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for taking part in this series, my friend! You have truly enlightened us about yourself.”

N: "Finally, I would just like to say what a real and great honour and a privilege it was to be asked to post a little about myself here on this mighty fine poetry site and to express my very sincere thanks to anyone that follows me or reads just one of my works .. Many thanks to one and all .. Peace, Love & All Good Things, Neville"




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed Neville's story. For certain I have. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez (aka Mr. Timetable)

We will post Spotlight #6 in August!
~
N: "Having been asked to list a few of my own favourite poems has proved impossible .. not because there are so many, but because, I truly feel that my next one will be it .. however, I do sincerely hope that others here who are kind enough to visit any of my scribbles will each have their own .."

Carlo C. Gomez: "I highly recommend Neville's book 'Turquoise and Other Shades of Blue.'  It's an anthology of 200 journeys. Open and direct, Neville allows us to be privy to his disquieting thoughts about life, love, loss, ***, curiosities, and travails; whether they be his successes or failures. The poem  ‘War Is Not for Lovers’ is an essential read."

War Is Not For Lovers:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3333072/war-is-not-for-lovers/

Link to book:
https://www.amazon.com/Turquoise-Other-Shades-Neville-Pettitt/dp/1699210268/ref=sr_1_2?crid=3MYUAAWTXINAK&keywords=neville+pettitt&qid=1688237395&sprefix=neville+pettitt%2Caps%2C146&sr=8-2
Jeremy Betts Feb 2024
Suicide?
Hold on, I'm sorry,
Are you referring to the barbaric act of hands-free ****** by an inhouse intruder implementing a vicious, self-righteous onslaught
No?
Oh...
Cause that's what I got
That's not what you were taught?
You didn't know each and every thought could be on loop and fraught with a dangerous taunt
No one told you you'd also most likely be the only one within earshot?
It's just thought after thought after thought after thought
And it's nonstop like the whistle of an ignored teapot that's gotten too hot
I ask myself, "is there such a thing as an inner dialogue clot?"
Rhetorical of course, knowing full well that there's not
It'd be pretty helpful though would it not?
A majority of this agony doesn't even seem to originate from an internal spot
But it's held against me that they recklessly destroy all I've fought for as well as rewriting the plot
Turning me into my own distraught subplot
Filming redesignated to the back lot of Salem's Lot
Making sure to make it known I'll only have this one shot
I swear y'all think I was told to bring what I'm gonna need and this is what I brought
So I fillet both wrists and expose the rot
Hoping to relay visually what verbally I cannot
Live stream it for a live audience or not
Copious shallow minds will still produce the same shallow thought
"You either want to be here or not"
Not knowing it has so little to do with want
"You ought to change the way you think"
Oh right, you're right, I must have forgot
OOOOOR
or
Is it that I've been convinced I can not?
Yeah...yeah, that's the caveat
I'd give everything to hit the reset like a robot
But the treason contains some carefully wrought deception that's sent in like S.W.A.T.
Keep that standard victim blaming line you walk taut
It's easier to walk that, is it not?
That's what I thought
Everyone knows the Rorschach test is just an inkblot
I watch in disbelief as my well-being resorts back to just another afterthought
The outlier is no one witnesses the slipping of the knot
There'll be no extension of a helping hand intervention to salvage this broken man by trying to help him reconnect a dot
Because I've lost connection with every dot
A reality checked on the spot
They continue debating amongst each other if it'd be easier to boycott
I bought in, hook, line and sinker,
I should have seen the bait and switch comin' do to all the times prior
THIS IS NOT WHAT WAS SOUGHT!
But here I am,
I guess it's my turn to like it or not

©2024
Jeremy Betts Jan 2024
Like a drug taken for a quarter century, this writing doesn't help like it use to...
See,
I'm starting to feel like it's working against me
Holding me here in pain and misery
Cleverly disguised as creativity
I use to lie and say it was a way to get rid of all this negativity
But I've spilled so much blood and tears onto stationary
...and not even purely metaphorically...
I should be completely empty
Hell, I think I might be
I think it's moved onto draining my energy
Can I still call this writing therapy?
Is it healthy or does it keep me from a new me?
Holding tightly but in spite of me
Hiding a different side of a complex personality
A new level of maturity
Is it actually helping any?
Today it's hard to say, but maybe
Unfortunately, it's something I'm good at, a skill I enjoy and I don't have many
So I've begun to notice I look at it differently
It was suppose to help me let go of the painful unpleasantry held in many a memory
But it woke a part of my ego that I didn't know would grip so tightly
It might have been a mistake to rely on it so heavily
It's no longer moving along the story
No cautionary tales to learn from because they never become history
It becomes a bookmark that I don't use properly
I never move it to the page I left off on and now, I must admit openly, I'm doing it purposely
I keep the worst of me right next to me, close as a frienemy
All because I notice I DON'T write when I'm happy
And I like to write so I dance around emotions strategically
I don't know if it's anything worth saying but writing is calling and drawing me in closely
A ghostly presence that when I look closely I see my identity
It hasn't always been but is now a big part of me
But does it want all of me?
Can't say either way with any certainty
No AH-HA moment, no clarity, only a death grip on disparity
So I recklessly walk the line of happy and tragedy
Like a DUI test on the side of the freeway, drunken pageantry
Eyes closed usually
No thought of mine or anyone else's safety
Dangerously close to calamity
And I just worry

©2024
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2024
(trigger warning: my apologies to the long poem haters,
nah, not really)

<>

Dawg!

your last and latest test be driving me crazee-
the poem conception birth rate is out of control,
them titles intriguing, stinging,
falling like curling up and dying oak leaves crunchy neath my feet,

and this little town don’t allow no burning thereof,
inclusive of leaves, poem drafts or witches

it’s not only the skin-pores, inhaling,
but the braniac neurons
that are clogging up
(ex. where’s my coffee mug hiding
when it ain’t hiding in the microwave)
and there ain’t no legal Drano for the
upper cortex contextual,
and condoms on my ears looked upright atrifling,
small & unbecoming, 
so pse. put a lid on it,
without sacrificing my nice head of grayling fibers
you graciously let me inherit ~
(thanks mom!)

soooo,
need to provide a method of contraception, legal and100% poem~proof, to keep me in decent metal health, with a natural speed limit on steadily in~fluxing immigrants of
seditious inspirational insights,
and these insider’s outside sights/sighs that
my eyes catalogue, and remind/tell, as well,
my buddies, the animals and the elements,
who constantly are hinting ‘n suggesting themselves
for yet another scripture of praiseworthy adoration

(esp. the rabbits, the ospreys, &
the nighttime starry skies,
a living tableaux de peinture…)
to pretty please
cease and desist
before *I

seize (up) and de-exist,

overwhelmed by piles of dead leaves
and out of computer memory
for anymore inspiration retention

Your earliest attention to this
Matter of Urgency to me, and

What‘a that you said?

Start a petition?
You kidding?

Might as we try to buy indulgences,
in bulk at Costco,
though they are never in stock!

I get it.

Using Pandora as your voice never fails.

You just played Judy Collins singing
Pete Seeger’s Turn,Turn, Turn.

Unsubtle.

This is my seasonal hint too,
part of my timed descent towards the
shadowed valleys + visible peaks I’ve
occasionally reached

My finale’s approchment nigh,
yet, don’t turn my heart or my senses
just quite yet,
from the spark divine you have placed within us each,
don’t let it burn brightest before
it flames out of existence
into extinction.
Appreciate the heads up, really

Most don’t know ‘bout this method of our conversing,
and the hint, the seasonal changeover, taking place now,
is mourned by my utterance with every breath of
a Kaddish prayer
contained within
a larger message:
natty, it’s time to
turn, turn, turn

Which way when,
of courses,
you’ll musically clue me in…

but you impatient being,
drawn after all in the
shape of humans,
fast forwards, nay hurtles this human,
with chariots spun from a summer sun’s
fonts and hints,
accidents and incidents,
by spectacles through spectacles,
colors emboldened by  
in a glory, glory, glorious
sun-nation

****!

Vienna Teng sweetly invades singing
Homecoming (Walter,’s Song):

but things are good I've got a lot of followers of my faith
I've got a whole congregation living in my head these days
and I'm preaching from the pulpit
to cries of “Amen brother”
closing my eyes to feel the warmth come back
and I've come home
even though I swear I've never been so alone
I've come home
I just want to be living as I'm dying
just like everybody here
just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
and I don't know where I'm driving to
but I know I'm getting old
and there's a blessing in every
moment every mile…

well I'll kneel down on the carpet here
though I never was sure of God
think tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt
I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed
her hair falling all around me
I smile and shake my head
well we all write our own endings
and we all have our own scars
but tonight I think I see what it's all about
because I've come home
I've come home.”*
(lyrics by Tom Hall)

Got it.

so many summarize better,
but even still a bit heavy handed when
you follow up with  Sting’s “Fields of Gold,”
and even, jeez, Louse,
“Danny Boy?!”

Your DJ is a ham
(I know, not exactly kosher).

It’s my season of the muse,
extracting every remaining incantation,
knowing  there are hundreds, thousands,
of notional ideations
in my draft files,
some born even before HP!

But deny them not their use,
they cannot remain forever
unemployed,
but at their peril, double toil and trouble,
be them entrusted, encrusted, secreted
in someone else’s existence,
by your annoying divine persistence

Demanding Being,
have you no sense of
sufficiency? (1)

Eva so sweet Cassidy
ends this trip
with “Who knows where the time goes ?”

Gonna pack up this ditty,
containing a peace of deity,
drive back to the city
where all my sorrows
are streeted above ground,
inescapable resounded …

now down to  2% battery (ramming)
and this cracked -screen
whispers too gently,
“no mas”
my dearest companion,
you still don’t know
when to shut up,
or call it quits,
but I’m hearing a new crew
old familiar poets, awaiting,
who will take one up & in,
relieve you of you earthly sins,
and I hear up there,
you’ve got
unlimited
data storage
and no need for cords
and
batteries

Seeing the schooner drawing nigh,
must be the season of
‘at last, here is Shelter,’
repentance (2)


<>

n.m.l.
Weds. Sept 4,
2024
while sitting by
my dock on the sound,
who insists that it’s
soundless wavings of water
get the last silent
mention
published Friday Sept. 6,,
Sabbath Eve

p.s.
(and that’s how u put the playlist
in an Audio Visual poem,, kid)
(1) “Who by Fire
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833523/for-leonard-cohen-who-by-fire/
(3)

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/
<>

Ecclesiastes

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to ****, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Jeremy Betts Mar 2024
Life is tricky, gets sticky quickly
Been known to present instantly
I'd love my day to day to be monotony heavy
This smile is a forgery
...mostly
My demons are imaginary
...not likely
Every foot placed in front of the other is scary
I've been doing it for 40 plus years, I'll figure it out eventually
Look how easily I lie to me
Do I know anything wholeheartedly?
Same sh*t different day,
And honestly,
I'd welcome blasé openly
Hopefully
I get the opportunity
Sometime before I check out completely
With no option to even maybe possibly
Attempt to retry the recipe

©2024
Nat Lipstadt Aug 23
Just lately, 'learned,' (what a double entendre that is!), a long time resident and story teller in the empire of creatives who coexist with each other in two dimensions, in deep isolation and simultaneously
in a camaraderie of bonded bones of mutuality, of deep, affectionate
camaraderie admiration for another human, who struggles and desires to please the world by putting worthy words before us to
be felt, not just read in our bosoms, but-placed deeper still, in our very souls.

As is my custom, I oft forget what was written by me, and awoke feeling guilty that I never gave him "His" own poem. So I looked him up on the HP site, and lo and behold!
this tribute came up first...but cease not here, seize this man's living testimonies to the beauty of life and family.  

I wrote this, upon refection, for us, a year ago...
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2024

For Spygrandson:  A Man
Who Looks in the Mirror, & Sees a Potholder of Simple Design…

~ for spygrandson ~
with deep affection


https://hellopoetry.com/spysgrandson/

<>

I am en~titled
by him,
commissioned by his exacting wording
of this poem’s titular naming,
all my previous attempts are failures,
over designed, too artistic
for his modest self~reckoning &
bearded demeanor,
they demanded
denial with
request for
simplicity of an unflowery
reckoning,
a clean shave,
so to speak…


a potholder of simple design,
a modest picture self-drawn,
but his stories are
sorties tall,
he draws you in, worthy draftsman sketches
of words, tales short, poems complete,
tales so sweet, of characters uniquely complete,
and you think,
they cannot be fictional?

and you know they’re no such thing,
ok, maybe,
some taller and a few perhaps dreamed,
the big characters of those
giants of simple men,
whose deeds were not mythical,
ok, almost mythical…

but truth of the humans of the hammered and nailed tough skin,
who built homesteads in the
plain, in mountains, by rivers that snaked,
unmapped,
except on their hearts and feet

the humans,
that made up
the raw & naked bond holders of
these United States:
bonded by character to the soil and
its curvaceous dancing topography
from
& of the center of our country,
but with eyes keen enough
to stretch from
coast to coast,
to see to shining seas

yes, true,
the grandson be he
to/of an almost mythical man,
and so took thus
his penned name,
the grandfather, a real person
of whom stories are yet told,
for no one can be sure
that & of what deeds
this spy did,
on hostile, unfamiliar,
continents,
but the photographic proofs,
I have seen…

His blood thickened by many infusions,
a cross cultural experiment,
happily not unique,
just **** rare

but enough of this;
read him,
let his
tongue take you to
the unfamiliar,
a literary Ansel Adams,
who never saw the plain(s) men & women,
unworthy of being forgotten but
forever being
celebrated

ask him for a potpourri of his short stories
of war, the bonds that men forge in combat,
tween the dead that still live on and
the living,
who have unreadable dead spots within,
they carry their dying glances,
their dying wishes,
and who are honored by him
in his continuing recollections

with walking stick in hand,
even if going outside
to “just” measure the snowy depths,
he leave markers and trailers,
for us to recall how to weep,
from love and pain,
from following generations of his
beautiful blonde
children who are poster models for
the traditional all american imagery,
but thriving within,
with  his
wanderlust, his mixed fiery visions,
and acting, singing out dramas
befitting their inherited
visions…

<>
here
I cease,
here
I weep,
at the impoverished words
scrivened in haste,
through tears of pleasure
intended to give honor
to this man,
who cedes me the pleasure of his existence,
and enhances my world
when he asks me,
unwittingly commissions!
a poem,
about
the human character,
who see himself unusually!
“as a potholder with a simple design”
and as usual,

I fail miserable…
maybe,
nick the outer edge of a bullseye target,
because the important words that he deserves,
I have not yet mentioned:

honor, loving kindness and friend.

perhaps he is correct,
but doesn’t grasp
that without simple men like him
to hold the *** upright and firm,
we all would be lesser or
even lost.


maybe,
now I am one
with
done
weeping, bereft and lessened
I, write, weep & wipe
read
https://hellopoetry.com/spysgrandson/

rinse and repeat,
and so it goes,
on and on and on
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2024
Mors Spiritualis

Spiritual *******
who is to blame
The prophets the poets
lascivious shame

With prurient verses
stark naked their prose
Defaming what’s ******
their lust to impose

And when they have finished
exposing their ruse
They choke on its meaning
and die self-abused

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)



Divinity’s Pew

The truth stands in contrast
to only itself
Once mentioned eternal
when thought and then felt
It lives in the ether
past fortune or fame
Conscripted by conscience
no praise and no blame
The truth beyond reason
beyond lies or consent
The lucky among us
to follow its scent
Its trail leads to faith
divinity’s pew
Transforming the moment
— you first say I do

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)



Freezing The Moment

Are you the
lead actor
within your own myth

The script
ever changing
the past in its crypt

Can you freeze
the moment
with only one word

The Angel’s
applauding
— the devil unheard

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)



Salt Lick

Politicians
endow a sword
to the few
— to command the many

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)


Modern Education

Learning more
about less and less
Feeling torn
in great duress
Faith attacked
we hide from myths
Real love scorned
— ourselves we kiss

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)


Marx In Hell

Political salvation
the god of failure
Beatifying the collective
— on the devil’s throne

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)


Gnostic Dreams

The brighter the glare
we discover around us
The darker the light
stays hidden within
Secular salvation
a digital failure
God’s imminent nature
— indistinguishable from ours

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)


‘Sage To The Court Jester …’

God’s truth — Man’s truth
bridging the difference
trust in the Muse

(Rosemont College: February, 2024)
Jon York  Jan 2024
2024
Jon York Jan 2024
What  new  influences
and opportunities will
be headed your way in
2024 ?

In  2024  set  aside  all
expectations about what
the past implies and what
the future may bring .

Instead cultivate a desire
to recognize and respond
to the raw truth of each
moment  of  every  day
in 2024.
                                                                ­                                Jon York    2024
Francie Lynch Jul 2021
I look forward to the re-enactments of historic moments in the pageant of The United States of America. [sic]

Gettysburg, Crossing the Delaware, The Moon Landing, Paul Revere's Ride, The March on Washington, The Storming of the Capital, The Clearing of Lafayette Plaza, The George Floyd ******, The Separation of Families, The Arizona Re-count, The Plot to Assassinate Democratic Governors, The Imprisonment of: Jared, Donny, Eric, Ivanka, Don, Carlson, Greene, Gaetz, Guilianni, Hannity, Conway, McVeigh, Barr [sic] (just to mention a few of the Founding ****-Ups.), the death of 650,000 people (the vast majority being innocent), The Pandemic of the Unvaxxed [sic]

After July 4, 2024, History may never be the same. See it now!

— The End —