Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lawrence Hall Feb 2019
The cultural filters are all in place
And truth, some say, is past its sell-by date
Weak hymns embalmed by hippies, and lost in space
Where time is always 1968

A poison-green tattoo on a fleshy back
No incense, but the Purell’s pretty strong
A ten-year-old gobbles his comfort snack
During Communion and a three-chord song

Our bishops quack and honk in flocks and herds -
We need a starets
                                           but all we get are words:


Intensify the Dallas Charter accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called intensify the Dallas Charter metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions Accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent intensify the Dallas Charter…
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
y i k e s  Apr 2014
Prom.
y i k e s Apr 2014
Faces painted with colors that make girl's skin pop out.
Eyes large and done up with circles around them
Coverup hiding the blemishes that grew out of stress and fear
Legs shaved and exposed under the beautiful gowns

Smiles grow on their faces when they see their date; dashing in suits and winsome smiles.
Small flower pins added to their beautiful dresses

The night is ready.

Legs spin around and around as they twirl, smiles in motions and hearts race.
Sweat lingers down their faces as their laughs grow more.

The night is ablaze.
Everyone is smiling.

But only one question lingers,
*"May I have this dance?"
my junior prom is tomorrow, wow.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2013
so it is, so it be.

life granted me a boon, come to me, the honey.

not the merest of coating, but a power enrichened,
capable of driving out the slow acting, daily killing,
poisonous venom.

makeover, coverup of tears of ancient marriage-madness,
black swan hate disguise, her lies, venom injection of
coffee blood staining love pretense, now just scar tracks  for a
new boulevard.

the slow pour,  the golden russian amber intertwined tones,
tongue tasted, inside me now, revealed in slow exiting, beauteous,
mellifluous tears.

you dance with the stars, I watch you watching,
clueless that my thee-flavored tears, dance and pour down
my face.

destitute, nearer my God than thee, god blessed this child's life,
love gifted from sweet bees, late in life, flew from my computer screen and sonnet-stung me with antidotes of
love n' honey...
Writ Oct. 12th, 2012
Tinkered with just now, at the bus stop, on the bus, and missed my stop.

New stanza:

"Honey,"
Not the daily address of my man-erred woman,
Babe or Sweetie, I think are in my employ,
But having read this dusty poem,
It will be Honey, tho hackneyed and corny,
Of that, She will inform me most hastily.
But I will know, but never tell, the resonating joy
Unleashed when I think of this poem instantly

gives
Chase Graham  Nov 2014
Coverup
Chase Graham Nov 2014
Polka dotted dress fit tightly across
full hips with a ribbon pulled firm to shape
her frame. A mirror and a husband reflect
the white betweens of violets and yellows

and blues trapped in circle-from, spinning
frozen over washer-friendly cotton. And
blonde hair trimmed above the ear and pearl
earrings to match the whites of

cold skin and eyes. With black flats and baby-toes
underneath painted pink that would curl
when her groom came in bed. But a sadness
in her chest when she had taken off the

dress and after the dinner-party with ham
fresh and red wines and business friends
of the man (her husband). A sadness searing deep
within her, in bed, after her husband came

and her feet didn't curl  and he would roll over
and she would be awake. Insomnia
is when you wake reoccurring in the
night (the husband would say.) But she

wouldn't ever sleep, for months, she covered
the black bags under the blues
in her eyes with makeup from macy's
while the husband went to the firm in a new

cadillac and came home every week to steak
or ham fresh without noticing the lines beneath
her eyes. Every sunday she would cook
more food for the business

partners and cover more bags and black
sags with more makeup until macy's changed
their inventory so she drove
father away to find more flesh-colored coverup.
Brent Kincaid Oct 2015
If you are Christian
And ashamed of your body
Listen to Jesus
And pay attention to what he
Said about the issue
Of tissue around your bones
And how that makes you
Evil and some kind of crone.

Find where he says
Abomination is your own skin
And where he says
Shame on the shape you’re in.
Since that came from God
And by your teaching God is right
On everything he ever did,
Why this turning off of the lights?

And, if not Christian,
Isn’t it all really the same thing;
Covering up, a masquerade,
Posing, pontificating, pretending?
Why the hiding and lying
About who and what you are?
Why treat your healthy self
As if you were some big scar?

Isn’t it really that society
Has made you think badly of you,
And when the truth is told
It was not about something you do?
It’s more about what others
Think and feel and see as shame.
So quit thinking they are right,
And by all means quit taking blame.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
a poem I didn’t plan: but a foot upon my shoulder
gave me no choice

if perfection came along regularly
we would not take note of this August Sunday

the breeze looks steady, blowing a firm few knots
making the waves rulers of the bay
without the necessity of troublesome whitecap shoutouts,
the sailboats muttering ‘thankee’

the kids dock jumping into the water so warm
they shiver running in the chill of a warm summer day, 
 to home, where they do the coverup thing
with hoodies and their Great Aunts white haired cozy blankets
which appear in untold numbers,
one for everyone and don’t drip the cherry frozen sticks
stains from your tongue and lips!

the sun temp modulated and moderate, a summer kiss farewell,
after weekend of thunderstorms and house shakings, it is sad for now
we recount the costly lost days unretrievable and
sky watching
for  naught

the waters inviting again come walk-upon me Island Poet,
to  see my new sea bottom treasures that the heavens,
abetted by foolish men and children
have added to my storehouses of grains and pains

decline and recline for
Oh! have I not got one more weekend, to
close out that Melville tale^
and that is something one need not rush to complete

let me clarify -
!I am a Summer Man!^^
and the summers sunsetting
is a ring around my chest that sings ever louder
nearer my god than thee;
now at the age where one only counts down to zero at double time
marching, eye straight

in this place where we - god and me -
have sung and battled together
like good friend and peer,^^^
college roommate permanent enemies,
he keeps his teary rains in abeyance to remind
that the coming of his schooner is
inevitable and to pack my poems in
plastic for the journey
finale

Oh! how can perfect be so saddening but it is...

my perfection days are minimizing and should not complain
for wrote many poems to day, unable to refuse my traveling muses
who summer with me, one upon each shoulder
until god kicks them off, with a bossy look of
he’s more mine than yours

to make sure his presence acknowledged he
makes Pandora play Billie Holiday singing:
“I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you”


subtle, right?

but who am I to complain
the razor thin difference tween
blessings and curses so thin
sometimes are they not the same thing

ne sont-ils pas les mêmes?


an unplanned poem
naturally

part of the plan
The onion, now that's something else
its innards don't exist
nothing but pure onionhood
fills this devout onionist
oniony on the inside
onionesque it appears
it follows its own daimonion
without our human tears

our skin is just a coverup
for the land where none dare to go
an internal inferno
the anathema of anatomy
in an onion there's only onion
from its top to it's toe
onionymous monomania
unanimous omninudity

at peace, at peace
internally at rest
inside it, there's a smaller one
of undiminished worth
the second holds a third one
the third contains a fourth
a centripetal fugue
polypony compressed

nature's rotundest tummy
its greatest success story
the onion drapes itself in it's
own aureoles of glory
we hold veins, nerves, and fat
secretions' secret sections
not for us such idiotic
onionoid perfections


Wisława Szymborska, translated from the Polish by Stanisław Barańczak & Clare Cavanagh
Wisława Szymborska (2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012) was a Polish poet, essayist, translator and recipient of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature ("for poetry that with ironic precision allows the historical and biological context to come to light in fragments of human reality"). Her work has been translated into English and many European languages, as well as into Arabic, Hebrew, Japanese and Chinese.
Damaged  Dec 2013
I'm just tired
Damaged Dec 2013
Why are you so tired you just had two extra days off of school**

The thing is though,
The tiredness I feel can't be relieved.
There are not enough minutes, hours, days, months, or years of sleeping that could cure the tiredness I feel.
No amount of sleep will get rid of the weariness I feel.
You see, although I do not sleep much because of the never ending nightmares.
I am more worn from having to drag myself out of bed every morning.
Paint on the smile.
Pile the coverup on my wrists.
My heart feels so heavy.
My mind is overwhelmed.
You see, no amount of sleep could cure the tiredness inside me.
city of flips Jul 2018
extra long vintage convertible car.
notice my big shoe size,
do I know what that really means?
extra little lies on top of giant whoppers.
the number of figures on their W-2,
and my measurements and cup-size, please.
please treasure
their perspicacious needs.  

what’s with the obsession with size?

won’t sleep with them on the first date,
they are shocked, just shocked,
when informed on the dotted line
that a hundred dinners won’t turn me into their
personal come-when-called *****.
at nineteen, by now,
I should know better,
do as I’m told

what’s this obsession with hurry up, immediate satisfaction?

and patting my head like i’m their favorite pet,
mansplaining me how the world works,
cause at nineteen I don’t know ****
just listen to the know-not-a-**** thing
arrogance of knowing it all impress themselves

what’s this need to be superior but a huge (size) coverup?

yeah yeah, get me a better class of men,
like my literate professors who will improve my grade
for use of the insights of my mouth on their poetic gestures.

I can wait, till I find a right sized human being,
in every which way,
especially
if he shows me the true love poems writ
for other girls,
then I may even trust him,
sooner
than never
Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Why Men Like to Load the Dishwasher

We are the artists of shape and configuration,
puzzle masters solving riddles of physics,
worshipers at the altar of labor saving devices,
this is a love poem of sorts, a Bazinga salutation,
to men and their undying love
for **** machines.

were it in my power
all cups would be handle-less,
the dishwasher time-space continuum
would be non-interrupted by black holes
where handles pointlessly protrude,
requiring endless rearrangement,
a soul destroying exercise.

bowls of any sort should have bottoms that retract.
indeed, the capacity increase, a visible fact,
is so enviro-friendly, eminently sensible,
that the loading for mechanical scrubbing
is deserved of a wing in the Smithsonian.

perhaps the budgeteers of Congress
should be tutored in this artistry,
how to make any limited resource,
better used.

the rub, as the bard would have writ,
is that this roaring tempest-tost,
our love for hard labor lost,
secret sacrificed behind a locked door,
of a Sanctum *******,
is entirely due, all glory to,
the secret society of fairies who
hide-reside inside,
freeing us to write more poetry.

in so many ways that I cannot reveal,
less the other gender members squeal,
men live to love to load the dishwasher,
for the ingenuity challenge, and of course,
the side benefit of the excusing coverup,
"I helped clean up," a relationship saver,
proof positively that the dishwasher inventor,
was surely a brilliant woman
Nat Lipstadt May 2019
I slept with her, my rapacious pen, took me in quiet vengeance in
full on conjugation

raken and taken, me,
her overlording me now, her authorship, so long held
in my maledom abeyance,
a kept imprisonment, unleashing at last, a tongue lashing~leashing,
de-spite my un-desirous craven lying supplications,
excuses of innocence and accident, coincidence and conflation,
ashes, ashes, denials incinerated, all fall down

she wrote/stabbed upon my heartless chest,
in the cheap crudités colors of a prisoner’s inking,
“user of words mine, all mine”

gathered up my innards of loose words,
speculative notes & titles yet to be,
born and kept hid in password protected silent back labor files,
now hers, leaving me sputtering, unable to create,
a homeless mute citizen, possession-less,
helplessly hoping her hovering harlequin might relent,
without any shelter, even a glimmering, a single aleph or bet

she celebratory cackled and clawed,
professed her reclamation ownership of all my poems predecessors,
zola j’accusing that I, ripped from her forcibly,
with no granted permission, her womanly touché of my scribing,
warning of no more global warming for my unprivileged hands,
daren’t try for pretenses of stolen legal guardianship,
warning of a new, forced caining inscription,
a tattooing of  “thief” upon my 5 knuckled right ******,
“plagiarist” boldly inked in back & blue upon my left palm

I, predator,
she, victim,
of my now self-professed, admitted confess,
she, my single victim,
of a decade long serializing criminal coverup

her parting poem a threatening,
herein issued in this very verse,
damning all who would falsely credit themselves,
to suffer shame and an unimaginable curse,
this, the newborn eleventh of ten commandments

parting, she kissing my lips, even my emptied apertures,
with warning bitings,
she knew all my
my numerous noms de guerre,
no dead scrolls caves to hid in, and to be discovered some future day,
and if ever marked as copyrighted,
’twas no tunneling escape,
the exposed truth to be over-stamped
upon all, upon each, in every language,

copied right from the tongue of a woman!


and she would be wright...
complementary to
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3155692/excerpt-my-muddled-woman-mind/
a tribute to all the women that have inspired so many of my poems

19/23/05
tabitha all grown up, meeting the 120 year old ** ** the clown



tabitha was busy seeing people interested in their previous lives before this one

and ** ** the clown, who was having delusions, through his sudden memory loss

one minute it’s as bright of day, the next it’s gone, and then he would pick up a tabithat doll

and as he held it, he would remember that day, where he favoured tabitha more than the other kids

and wanted to find the family, but didn’t want to be a bother, so endora came into his dream

to walk away from the nursing home and all the care he is given, to travel to sydney australia

to pay a visit to tabitha, and it took him 7 days as he touched down in sydney to find out

wherte tabitha is, and then went into a house, which said tabitha’s den, and saw this attractive twenty something

and thought to himself, he is in the wrong place, but asked, i am looking for a tabitha stevens, the girl

that was the inspiration to the tabitha doll, and at first, tabitha was puzzled, but it came back to her

when he said he was ** ** the clown, and he is now 120 years old, and wants to know tabitha’s secrete

on staying young, and tabitha, said, being a witch can do things to you, and ** ** the clown said, your a what1

tabitha said, a witcortal, well, my dad’s advertising firm hired you, i was just favoured because of my grandma

and this made ** ** really excited, and said, can you tell me, was this doll, a cute little doll meant to talk

and tabitha said, no, it was a coverup, so daddy doesn’t lose your account, it wasn’t daddy’s fault he lost the account,

it was grandmas, but she hates the idea of a witch marrying mortals back then, you should see the other clients

that were trapped by witchcraft, no, you were under a silly spell, and ** **, left and went back to his hotel, and

endora came into his room and put a spell on him, to never have him wake, ever, he will reincarnate into something else

and then endora said to tabitha, yeah i remember that day, when we made you into a doll, but i just killed ** ** the clown, ok

he believes in reincarnation, he won’t suffer, and he will realise, that you did the wrong thing, because, now he knows tabitha

death happens, and i didn’t want ** ** being the mortal out living the witch’s and sam and darrin popped in and tabitha said

how is adam, and adams side was expecting another baby, due in 4 months, and tabitha told one of darrin’s old clients ** ** the clown

the whole truth, which made grandma **** him, to reenter his next life, full of happiness, and darrin said, how old was that kodger, and

tabitha said 120, and went to his hotel to die, grandma said, and darrin said, i might be a warlock now, but i show a bit of compassion

and endora said, do you believe in god, well god is your mother in law, me, and i did all that to you, to bring on your sense of humour,

sam knew, but hated the plan, but it was my job, ok, ** ** the clown was too old, and feeble, so i made him escape the nursing home

and find tabitha, hex the house and doll with memories of that day, put a weeny spell on tabitha to spill the beans, so he will die peacefully

and he did, and the stevens family had a meal in new york, to celebrate the life of ** ** the clown, even going to his funeral, larry was forced

to go, and there was a big party, as tabitha, was asked to get rid of the tabitha doll, and zap it out of those kids homes, after a man, said, were you

the inspiration to the tabitha, it was flattering, but freaky, so tabitha zapped all the memory of the tabitha dolls, to leave the world with ** ** the clown

and everyone left, and tabitha went back to work, to tell this 45 year old man, he is ned kelly, cause of a dark lobe, and that is the end of ** ** the clown.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2015
for T.M.R.
our "fellow" southern friend*

the southern way,
she-poet
teaches me
via long distance
breaking of the
braking neural inhibitions of
the loudest silences
that only humans can
mistress

photos, stories,
Facebook posts
how the earth rebirths
taking unasked
unwitting but wisely
both of us
to be refreshed,
so verily
the southern way

sharing worldly  
southern words
betraying a
more than
passing
(how I hate that word)
expertise
in spring colors
glorious to every sense,
best described
as nature's way to humanize what we wordily call
hopeful,
self-betraying herself by the
she -poets
innate
southern ways

calls me
northern boy
in a
true voice,
raconteuring,
quick retorting
always in the midst of
d r a wling stories,
about all crazy frogs
of Columbia County,
jumping multiple courses

all about
she-poets navigating
life erratic,
half ecstatic
yet singularity colored,
characteristic of a  
ninety percent southern
Tennessee whiskey blues

hear clear
she-poets
welcoming swirling
undertow undertones
lying just above the calmest
morning water surface glistening
words betraying nothing,
yet saying
all in
between, in
pauses of
speckling sun drops spectacular

she-poet
has her places
in woods, knolls and
rarely visited mountains
where cold brooks and cold beers
southern sooth
in ways
I will likely,
wanting but unable,
never learn
to hear clear

the southern way
is never flex,
nerve never
never bend, smile,
still fighting
the prior lost cause
ignore the
cracks coverup

until and when
the afternoon sun
ceases to warm
the orchard porch
daylighting no longer
when no one is around
she-poet
weeps out loud alone
in the
southern way

and I,
northern boy,
student witness,
having obtained
a learner's permit
for her teachings
re
the southern wayfaring ways
of living life

weep along side
in my unsatisfactory
northern way,
learning that,
who knew,
tears are also
glue
anywhere
For Tonya Maria

— The End —