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Nat Lipstadt Sep 24
Unabashedly Public (return of the babies; my broken ribs, Zenith poem)

~for Sue Huff~

“unabashedly public,” the accusation,
causes me no blushing consternation
for it’s true, no secret kept worse, than this,
my sleeves, all outside-stained, heartfelt red,
the poems hide so little, with exception of my multifarious,
multivariate, semi-secret identities y’all mostly ferret out

“had no plans to look you up,”
but you kept sending selected of the eldest children,
even from 2012, I remember an afternoon well,
the odors, the food, my friend Al, now passed,
who made me think, indeed,
where do the poems come from?

a bequest to my eldest, who still never calls,
never writes, but will call me for help when
he finds himself in jail, or needs my (car) services;
its been a couple of years, but suspect time
is on my side, life makes needs, those **** happenstances,
that are never happy, but require your lawful presence

and on and on,

men & women, discovered, by their poetry reveled, revealed,
in thigh highs and backhoes, keepers of tortuous promises,
doing the quiet way, always asking, what’s the honorable thing,
all uncovered here, and secret sharers, these poets grab a holt
of my eye ducts, gifting insights that my brain tearfully inquires,
how did they know that bout me, these new kin and kindred?

my broken ribs?

the knowers know i am a summertime creature.
What they do not know, that on the last day
on where I summer shelter, a thin ring, a tree ring,
appears around my chest, marking my annualization,
some rings thick, thin, a year of seasons, all at different paces,
a year of rain & pain, thicker, slower did it pass

What they do not know, these fateful poets, all of my one faith,
these rings deep go, beyond the surface, constricting contractions,
they tighten, squeezing the lungs, slowing the breadth of my breath,
breaking ribs, reminder to write better, now that time is shortening,
labored breathing is a breathtaking experience, do, be better, chances for kindnesses lessened, why hide, time to be unashamedly public

had no plans to write today, especially this one, but circumstances
of my added-on circumferential measurement appearing, triggered by y’all sending me my poems of long ago, played mind-gotcha, this rambling emerged, to celebrate my being nearer to thee, thee, my passing, nearer than thee, this, me old-crust pieces, cutting the mouth’s soft-inside, inside softness, place where weeping & writing
leak on the poem tongue directly

to live in harmony with the
unending quests that yet, always need doing,
all in, are you, am I, awaiting your best attentions,
giving you thy own reparations, given to yourself;
if this then be my own equinox, autumnal equinox,

when the sun is at zenith, directly above,
the equator, this then my reparation, my

                                          Zenith poem**

9/24/19 12:15p
Sketcher Jul 18
I trust the bus to take me home,
I must adjust to how I roam,
From here to there,
With the slowest four wheels,
From stop to stop,
This doesn’t appeal,
To my sense of speed,
I have places to be,
Not only that,
But I have to ***.
Waiting on the bus...
Old enough to no longer claim ‘childhood’.
She read the words of a wise man, path set.
Her plan was arranged for the greater good.
Now, the cruel public will never forget.
danna22081 Mar 16
It might be said:

So I depart,
Without really departing,
For my adherence to the state of removal
Is not well developed.

As arrogant as the next upcoming minister,
I care not about my future,
As of now…
And only now.

My departure, conclusion, resolution,
To this journey many classify as the beginning of life,
Had never felt more diverse than my
Days during the Weekend.

And it is so,
That I have already departed…
And I have not anything to lose…
But where do I go?
She thought she knew her way.
Shaleek Mar 6
I always wished one day I could just be FREE
yelling to myself to just let me be FREE
FREE from pain
FREE from hurt
FREE from insecurities
FREE from me
but the FREE I want isn't the ordinary FREE
FREE from oppression
FREE from tears
FREE from fears
FREE from me
just one day I just want to let me be FREE
FREE to express
FREE to speak
FREE to love
FREE to be me
but if I let me be FREE I wouldn't actually be FREE
because the FREE in me never tends to see itself be FREE
FREE loves instead of wanting and needing to be loved
FREE leans not onto own insecurities
FREE isn't feared to cry tears
FREE speaks and isn't afraid to express
but will my FREE tend to see the FREE that needs to be FREE
will FREE see the need to set FREE, FREE
maybe one day i'll be FREE
FREE to laugh
FREE to smile
FREE to believe
FREE to be me
maybe one day, just once, the FREE within me would acknowledge that FREE yearns to be FREE
but instead  my FREE tends to see FREE as FREE to be trapped within me
FREE notices imperfections and embraces them unlike me
but until my FREE doesn't acknowledge itself as FREE
FREE will forever and always be trapped inside of me never to be FREE!
i just want to let me be FREE
Its a very confusing poem but you have to see the word free as two different stand points fighting at each other. Focus on the words I, Myself, My, and Free. I have been through so much to the point that my mental see's the meaning of Free so differently then I have perceived it to be. Sometimes freedom of self is all you need and this is what I wanted.
This poem was written October 6, 2013, ENJOY!
Dylan Jan 20
Why do I write?
Why expect anyone to read?
Perhaps I want to help,
but am I the right choice?
Am I right to have confidence?
Should I lack it instead?
Am I a Frost, a Poe,
or someone forever unknown?
Will this ever be discovered?
Will my private thoughts become public?
If they are private, WHY am I still writing?
Do I want people to know?
Help me.
I’m humming so that I can’t hear them
But they can hear me
And hate my humming
But how else do I cope?
SomeOneElse Dec 2018
Sitting at the restaurant
Eating with your friends
Suddenly you realize
You're in for a surprise
Hiding under your table
Hiding from your friends
I'm hoping to have some fun
Trying to make you ***
You try not to make a face
You try not to grin
Hope no one will make a fuss
If someone catches us
As i start to spread your legs
And kissing your thigh
My tongue moves to lick your ****
Can't get enough of it
You begin to lose control
As I'm eating you
Trying not to come undone
As you begin to ***
I am still not done with you
After you have cummed
I continue licking you
Until ****** two
Time to leave the restaurant
And to start act 2
In the limo off we go
You're my girl, I'm your beau
You take off all of your clothes
And kneel before me
Seeing just how hard i am
You stroke me with your hand
You then start ******* my ****
Making me feel great
Pleasing me until I'm done
You swallow all my ***
Both of us in ecstasy
Living out this fantasy
Just another fantasy put to pen and paper to get it out of my head
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