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Nat Lipstadt Dec 7
this semi-seemingly sad refrain~reflection, more truth than
one can even understand,
for my physical self slowly
disappearing, diminishing
though no visible pieces
as of yet,
gone missing

few of you have come to visit me
in NYC, so you cannot be sure of
anything you’ve been told, for the
great liar claims,
the internet bleeds
disinformation,
believe this
if nothing
else

for I’ve been a dream from my very
naissance, a vision imaginable by
those who contemplate my whereabouts,
my visages, we bemused, while
you imbibe, tongue |taste
mes
written bouche amusante

well,
if you want them pieces & parts,
poems in the fleshes,
seek outa one eyed guy patched
by a rivered walk path,
see a troubadour on his soap box
amusing the real peoples
who pause to reflect
cause
them
give respect to his peculiarities,
listen to his truths bout
himself and them
selves too

if you can’t camp this far,
then believe in your dreams
cause my come and go,
fly out the window
and have reached as far as
the Phillipines, New Zealand &
the Land of Oz

I’m their break from the news,
indeed call me ‘the new news,’
which so cool, makes us laugh,
cause there ain’t no much new
by this foolish OG, ‘cept for the
rhythm of and blues, I spin, the rhymes
that they fet/met/net me with dollar bills,
loose change and half used joints in lieu of cash-is-trash

So I dream, they dream,
together we scheme,
each of us composing,
in separate and equal
prepositions preposterous
and share all who to be heard,
especially those who wish to also
have their dreams be
seen
Nat Lipstadt Nov 17
this semi-seemingly sad refrain~reflection, more truth than
one can even understand,
for my physical self slowly
disappearing, diminishing
though no visible pieces
as of yet,
gone missing

few of you have come to visit me
in NYC, so you cannot be sure of
anything you’ve been told, for the
great liar claims, the internet bleeds
disinformation believe this
if nothing
else

for I’ve been a dream from my very
naissance, a vision imaginable by
those who contemplate my whereabouts,
my visages, we bemused, while
you imbibe, tongue |taste
mrs
written bouche amusante

well,
if you want them pieces & parts,
poems in the fleshes,
seek outa one eyed guy patched
by a rivered walk path,
see a troubadour on his soap box
amusing the real peoples
who pause to reflect
cause
them
give respect to his peculiarities,
listen to his truths bout
himself and them
selves too

if you can’t camp this far,
then believe in your dreams
cause my come and go,
fly out the window
and have reached as far as
the Phillipines, New Zealand &
the Land of Oz

I’m their break from the news,
indeed call me ‘the new news,’
which so cool, makes us laugh,
cause there ain’t no much new
by this foolish OG, ‘cept for the
rhythm of and blues, I spin, the rhymes
that they fet/met/net me with dollar bills,
loose change and half used joints in lieu of cash-is-trash

So I dream, they dream,
together we scheme,
each of us composing,
in separate and equal
prepositions preposterous
and share all who to be heard,
especially those who wish to also
have their dreams be
seen
Nat Lipstadt May 2023
(Ain’t “They” Great!)

Now watching 13 year old grandkid live-on-streaming-Internet,
playing Little League baseball in California, pleasantly surprised,

No, not by the amazing technology, or his super great play,
but the laugh-out-loud accommodation to the “au courant”

Game announcer, a soulless robot machine, stupid-smart, without exception, employs THEY pronoun for all, which after 10 seconds thot,

of serious reflection is a brilliant deflection, a solutionary salutation!
We come to see kids play ball, care not a whiff (double entendre),

re identity politicized insanity, machine makes everyone truly equal,
robbing stupids of a phony, proclamation of self-righteous “individuality”

God Bless No-Brainers!
Ain’t They Great!


~Postcript~

Introducing a newly Recomposed Natty:

still an OWG
(old white guy)
but now a Proudly, a gaily machine-made, in the USA

They.
Nat Lipstadt May 2020
she don’t read my poetry no more


not that I blame her, she’s in the majority,
moreover, she’s got ESP womanly seniority,
sensing what I ain’t saying, before I’ve even
had a chance to think it through ain’t it clear

these double negations,
for the rest of you,
reflecting my slip slidin' away,
a slowing indirection of virulent
side effects spiraling sideways, ain’t it clear

everyone’s shouting
the end is yay! nearing,
but the  endings risk is trebling,
meaning meanings be altering,
all the same, ain’t exactly unclear

she asks me where I’m going,
to the pharmacy replied, perversely,
feeling unlucky, a sure sign it’s high time
to buy a lottery ticket, given my inversity,
gods of fortuna singing ain’t it clear

****, she says, you went to university,
you know the odds are just plain stupidity,
not in my favor, my reply, meaning exactly,
ain’t it clear, everything and so, nothing to fear

**ain’t it clear
faye Dec 2019
Lost love.
I ripped pages and pages of perfectly composed stories of where we could've been
To what we could've had
And to how we ended.
And you know what's the most craziest part about this?
The conclusion.
I loved you, while you're too busy 'loving' her.
Ejike Pius Feb 2019
The brightest light blossoms
in the darkest of places
Like colourful lilies full
of fragrance springing from
the most stagnant waters

The nights
When the moonlight shimmers
with her golden colour
The stars decorate the sky
Just as a princess is decked with
ornaments and priceless jewelries.
The darkest of the nights gives the biggest picture.

The biggest hive,
With the biggest and fiercest of bees,
lies the sweetest honey.
Like an ugly flowers in the garden
Which perhaps will constitute
a beauty when on mountain.

The butterfly,
Which nature has used to
decorate the earth to shame Art
Has nothing to show
When it is a caterpillar.
But I can't look at her on lilies
without smiling like a tickled, dimpled baby.

Ain't nature generous enough
That she shows all that
there is nothing in anything?
The pen of a happy poet dances on paper
To tell his folk that there is always a silver lining after the tunnel.
Zelda Jan 2019
Got Tupac in my ear
Singing “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I feel it
Cause it was my fault
I ****** up again
but all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Yeah I know you're tired of hearing it
The excuses and sorry's
But it's all I have
and all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Got Tupac in my ear
Singing, “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I need it
Cause I know I don't deserve forgiveness
And all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

One day I'll make it all right
But for now
all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
So don’t be mad at me

I ain't mad at cha
To my friends, family, and everyone
I'm sorry I'm such a ******* ***** up
jas Jan 2019
don’t worry bout me
just worry bout yourself
i know you seen me with somebody else
right by my side
wishing you were mine
but boy you know it’s past your time

it’s sad to say
karma got in your way
who can you blame
but yourself

you’re the reason i moved on
your the reason i found the right one

he ain’t you

treats me better than i deserve
loves me harder
like i’m worth
more than enough
to be his girl
this world i’m living is a fairytale
i don’t know
what i did
to deserve a man like this
an angel sent from heaven
i guess god heard my prayers

AMEN

memories scarred in my brain
it’s getting easier to erase
the memory of you
and how i was made the fool
i was too young and naive
what i faced
i couldn’t believe
....
to be continued...  
inspired by instrumental of boogie with a hoodie , look back at it on youtube.
Julian Delia Sep 2018
Is-solitudni hija inkredibbli.
Il-pinna tirtogħod jien u nikteb,
Estensjoni tat-taħwid ta’ ġismi.
Inħossni qisni forti imwaqqa’, inaċċessibli.
Xi kultant, nitħajjar nitfa ruħi għall-irkant;
Nagħmel patt ma’ xi dB jew xi Gasan,
Jew inkella, mal-mexxej, l-aqwa negozjant.

Mhux xorta?
X’fiha billi nilqgħu il-partit f’darna?
X’jimporta?
Mhux l-aqwa li mmorru l-fosos bi ħġarna?

Iżda, mhux dak hu l-messaġġ;
Minn dil-lejla siekta, nixtieq niehu vantaġġ.
Xtaqt neżamina għalfejn ninsab waħdi;
Qiegħed id-dar b’ommi u missieri sular taħti,
Iżda, minflok ninsab hawn, magħluq f’kamarti.
Mistoħbi, bl-iskuża li qiegħed noħloq l-arti.

Sħabi kollha xogħol jew isaħħarhom xi eżami,
B’hekk, ninsab nirrifletti, b’espressjoni gravi.
Fejn tobsor, li ta’ tlieta u għoxrin
Tkun weħilt go ħabs mentali agħar minn Kordin?
Ċella magħmula mill-ħsibijiet,
Joħorgu qishom ħalba mis-smewwiet.

Tgħix b’mohh mixgħul ġo pajjiż li jħobb id-dlam
Tħossok distint daqs tazza inbid aħmar li waqgħet *** l-irham.
Xi kultant, mejjet tkun biex titfieh;
Xejn ma jirnexxilek tagħmel biex tistrieh.

_________

(in English)

The solitude is incredible.
The pen shakes as I write,
An extension of my body's agitation.
I feel like a ruined fort, inacessible.
Sometimes, I fancy putting my soul up for auction;
Strike a deal with dB or Gasan (1),
Or maybe, with our leader, the best merchant (of them all).

Is it not all the same?
So what if we let the party in our household?
What does it matter,
As long as we go to il-Fosos (2), en masse?

But, that is not the message;
Of this quiet night, I'd like to take advantage.
I wanted to examine why I'm all alone;
I'm at home, with my parents a floor below me,
Yet, I find myself here, locked in my room,
Hidden, with the excuse of making art.

My friends are either working or bewitched by an exam,
Hence, I find myself reflecting, with a grave expression.
Who would've thought, at age twenty-three
I would be stuck in a mental prison worse than Kordin (3)?
A cell made of thoughts,
That come out like a storm from the heavens.

To live with an enlightened mind in a country that loves darkness
Feels as distinct as a glass of red wine spilled on a marble tile.
Sometimes, you just wish you could switch it off;
Nothing helps to give you relief.
1 = enormous local entities that have amassed wealth through the exploitation of my country and its people.
2 = a popular spot for political mass meetings in Floriana.
3 = an area in Paola where the local prison is.
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