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Nat Lipstadt Oct 2019
Oh Eliot, Poor Eliot, Your Fans Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad^

<>
we tithed thee with donations plenty,
here a dollar, there a fiver, a coupon for free chips,
worthy of somebody’s eternal gratitude,
that would be you,
da Duke, Duke of York

the largest online free poetry site,
a million visitors a day, why you must be
the richest poet online billionaire, right?
you,
da Duke, Duke of York and

occasional poet...

in return, all we occasional poets demand
steady on instant access, immediate satisfaction,
after all, a part time job deserves your bestus-best,
just like every other large online site, that never crashes,
we’re not like just the rest, we are
p o e t s,
occasionally

so keep the servers engines, well stoked with Newcastle coal,
keep them up and running round the clock,
using only alternative energy,
of the unceasing sun light of merry old England!

quit that other job, you must,
instead of giving up on us,
give in to us,
a poetry break, a writing recharge,
though please add a limited liability
clause to the FAQ’s,
that poets’ lives must deal with the hiccup
occasional

you, da Duke, Duke of York,
newly now, an appointment royale as Major General,^^
you, the very model of a modern major general
possessing information vegetable, animal, mineral and
technical,
who knows the Queens  of England, who,
maybe even now is telling tales of your heroics with the hordes of
hysterical
occasional
poetical
globalists
demanding
light brigadests
charging the redoubt

and
when you have a moment spare,
a haircut, please.

no, that is not a request,
naturally

<>

10/19/19
Noontime NYC
natalino
^^Messers Gilbert and Sullivan

^ Oh Dad, Poor Dad,
Hung You In The Closet and I’m Feeling So Sad
By Arthur Kopit
Jonathan
Well, I made it out of lenses and tubing. The lenses I had because Ma-Ma-Mother gave me a set of lenses so I could see my stamps better. I have a fabulous collection of stamps, as well as a fantastic collection of coins and a simply unbelievable collection of books. Well sir, Ma-Ma-Mother gave me these lenses so I could see my stamps better. She suspected that some were fake so she gave me the lenses so I might be...able to see. You see? Well sir, I happen to have nearly a billion sta-stamps. So far I’ve looked closely at 1,352,769. I’ve discovered three actual fakes! Number 1,352,767 was a fake. Number1,352,768 was a fake, and number 1,352,769 was a fake. They were stuck together. Ma-Mother made me feed them im-mediately to her fly –traps. Well... (He whispers.) one day, when Mother wasn’t looking...that is, when she was out, I heard an air-plane flying...somewhere, far away. And I ran outside to the porch so that JI might see what it looked like. The airplane. With hundreds of people inside it. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people. And I thought to myself, if I could just see...if I could just see what they looked like, the people, sitting at their windows looking out...and flying. If I Could see...just once...if I could see just once what they looked like...then I might...know what I-what I... (Slight pause.) So I...built a telescope in case the plane ever...came back again. The tubing from and old blowgun (He reaches behind the bureau and produces a huge blowgun, easily a foot larger than he Mother brought back from her last hunting trip to Zanzibar. The lenses were the lenses she had given me for my stamp. So I built it. My telescope. A telescope so I might be able to see. And... (He walks out to the porch.) and...and I could see! I could! I COULD! I really could. For miles and miles I could see. For miles and miles and miles! Only...
You take the time to build a telescope that can sa-see for miles, then there’s nothing out there to see. MA-Mother says it’s a lesson in Life. [Pause] But I’m not sorry I built my telescope. And you know why? Because, I saw you. Even if I didn’t see anything else, I did see you. And...and I’m...very glad.
Typed by: Jeremy Mash 2-16-06
everyone says
strong bootstraps
beget rewards
while leagues
of craftsmen
struggle

everyone follows
another trend
overboard while
Davy Joneses
hold their
breath

everyone feels
their sin
beside beggars
with hands
made of
*******

everyone thinks
job creators’
heroic strength
will someday
trickle down
decency

but

everyone knows
when something
is heavy
you lift
from the
bottom
modified cinquain using word limits

for peace in solidarity

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojleMU9rZ4k
Like sprinkling dust on the paper,
Moulding itself into mud;
Sound the words of the pauper,
Forming his tears into flood.


His need is not a bigger pocket,
Or a fam of a good blood;
His thirst made him a bitter poet,
Being lost in the flood.


Flood of a baby's first cry to the world,
Seeing everything newly indifferent;
He wishes for a straight world unwhirled,
Wishing not being so different.


Dirting the paper with stolen words,
From sloppy worlds of others;
The pauper gets deeper in his thirst,
And goner in others'.


Sodden paper-pieces in the mud,
Like flood-brought thrashes;
But they didn't came with the flood,
Just from a former poet's ashes.
10.17.2018
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
This began with an old man telling of diving from a bridge,
We can see, he said, if hitting bottom is possible,
a smart kid makes adjustments.
Still waters run deep,
listen
you know you can do this if we tri, you and I
insider outsider
other sider

consider the ant a tool,
learn to use them, they are already programmable.

try flies. what wish can you grant to fly?
what pheromone propels flies
to seek fly-level haps
meaningful and
satisfactory.

Make it real. Satisfied me says war is senseless,
it feels no pain.

There's no referee, so it ain't a life problem.

The entire life meme was upgraded,
when Netscape went public, in August '95.
Life's daysman had made the call, however long ago,
the Romans 8 manifestation gestation
thing was damming the info
rush,
but we fixt it,
at the heart of the matter of fact,
Bubbles were introduced to make booming
let up on trying to increase,
to effect the more abundant phase,

memes got real and made a global brain that
remembers ever things,
sorted by Planck-sec,
if you observe
in a properly augmented way,
the inner edge of the bubble of being.

The changes are the most precise captures
of a series of mortal moments on
earth, ever.
Perfect transparency.
See.
This is that gaseous substance, spirit, geist, breath
yes, hey
wind
listen, here we hear haps clappin' one handed,

singin' I'm so glad, to a Ginger Baker beat.

We should dance to this.
Heavenly oaks trailer park, Guatay California. This is like heaven, t'some,
i guess, I'm such a one. it's fun to know this is as low as i ever dived and survived. Life is good for living things.
A Simillacrum Sep 2019
Blessed from birth,
knowing the grit of dirt
between my teeth,
Living the dream
where money means
everything.
Is it a paper cup, today?
Is it a ****** there
in the dirt with ***** in it?
My mom says if I could save,
I could make it work, easily -
but she's using my name
to evade her debts,
and when I finally
get gone, to get electricity,
I have to implicate
her as a criminal.
Shame.
Aaron E Aug 2019
Formed in a field of fire, I cry,

serving thorns of beleaguered triumph, I crawl

to a shorn little wreath of wiring, I stall

to enthrall all the force behind me, I crawl.

Crawl with a ghost's sobriety, in a  thought
I have wrought
what a world denied me, in a joke,
but its not,
it's assuming a piety
in deliverance from fouler hits
isn't a blinder for your civil bliss.

Wake the **** up.

Watch the flare, trace the wick.

Dodge the rain drops, cop's air and spit.

Hopped a train of thought for a ditch

Found a chain of White grapes and whips.

You intervene with glitter glue at the seams,
assume to placate flames below the root of your jeans,
assemble suitable frames amid a brutal disease,
accrue the nourishing famine, staying true to your leaves,
and seeing nothing.

_

capitulate to the critical conditioners , an oppressor
hypernormal in biblical proportions for your pleasure
find the border for brick mortar
pull lever, level threat, fine order,
don't. cross. this. line.
ever.
Never stop to observe the servile nature of your stature
levy thoughtless concern to herd the ******* in your factor
paper shredder for flame fodder, **** your water
crawling out with a name, and an aim to discolor your collar

I have no eyes to see son or daughter,
grass in the field, lacks appeal,
devoured countless when I was smaller

Eyes on the whole deal, now
coal fields, cold meals, thick prose, sick cows,
this thirst, it grows, it thrives, right now
it knows, it chose,
these throes are how these days will close when you aren't loud.

Eat the rich
Eat the poor
Eat the earth
Nevermore.
Wake the **** up.
(It's pretty long so... Sorry. Also sorry for the double negatives and cursing, in that order.)
A Simillacrum Aug 2019
all this time, i've yet to come to terms with certain words
for instance, design, and all of its nuance
how do i design in true
when i am a shard of
azure experience in the
endlessness of midnight blue?

all this time, i've yet to call my good form to return
for instance, my designs, and all the nuances --
the water drains, shallow now,
from my composition,
as if i'm the desert, when once,
i was my own oasis.

reflection is a given. still,
how can i reflect this ill
in good faith, when the
poisonous sick saw my
leg up ascend into ruins?
Shelby Finger Aug 2019
Riding in the backseat,
Picturing a stampede—
I want to know the feeling of my body collapsing into itself beneathe the
Twisted Metal.

Now we’re hydroplaning,
The foxes must be waiting—
I want to transcend the life I’ve known,
Because only broken girls turn the
Other Cheek.

Roaches scale my tiny legs
Close my knees so they can’t lay eggs,
I want to disappear into the woods and live among the wild hogs
And Sleep.
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