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Nat Lipstadt Oct 2020
I think, therefore I am.

(5) the possible poems lurk about, here a title,
there a verse without a home, and, despite
cogitating brings no fusion, no unity or home
heading, where the sigh of conjoining both
brings mental *******, organic relief, worth.

(6) the temperature now cool regularity, enough that
a distinctive line crossed, setting from Cool to Heat,
an inflection point of persona, weather, aging,
daytime whispers can no long be avoided,
a choral crescendo, delayed by lazy summer illusions
that permitted us to put off abnormal life as normal.

(7) I think, therefore I am, but I do not feel,
sufficiently, therefore I write a title here,
verse there, but no poem completes because,
as I update my list of people I worry about, I am,
ineffectively yours, lacking answers for you, in all
our present tenses, some of you are on it, even if no notification
sent, selfishly pondering if my name appears on someones list

ah, these miscarriages of miscellaneous mumbles don’t
qualify as worthwhile, so I pre-apologize for wasting your time
trying, pushing myself to go from thinking, of you, so, therefore
you exist, but if I cannot give you the feelings deserved, then,
what good am I?


conundrum.

11:26 AM Sat Oct 10
2020
basil Jul 2020
i don't stand where i'm meant to
but my posture is impeccable
i am

07.26.2020
Belle Vive la France,
mon cœur est avec vous!
My beloved Paris
Freddy S Zalta Jan 2015
In a city full of beauty, in a country full of life and a culture full of art and love - strangers have set foot upon the land - where poetry thrives, artists dream and music is composed.
They are burning the books and bringing the flames of hell upon the people...
They are covering the beauty so no one can see it and be tempted to take it away...
Children are shaking, the windows are breaking and the thunder is being silenced once again.
When will it end?
This hatred that is spreading like a cancer?
When will it end?
These questions which have no answers?
When will it end?
For the artist, the lovers and the romancers?
quand cela se arrêtera?
quand allez adorer revenir à la maison et dépasser la haine ?
Pardon my French - I used google translate
Tryst Jan 2015
Forgive the sins of those we would condemn?
Apologise and send them on their way
And in the aftermath of our dismay
Seek not for retribution on these men?

Cast down our stones, cast off our thoughts of when
They stained the walls in vengeance on a day
Now fast enshrined in minds of those who pray,
Pretend the world is just as it was then

Before these wretched shadows had the ken
To shatter glass and unmold living clay,
Think not of how their evil to repay
But offer them a prayer and say "Amen"?

Dear lord, our strength of will is plainly weak
For we can't simply turn the other cheek.
Daan Jan 2015
They pulled out his eyes, because he had seen
too much.

They blew out his brains, he must have
known too much.

Blind and braindead was their thought
now it was reality.

And they cut off his tongue
for he had said too much.
When you think, not know, you act as if
the difference fades, the first will go, let that sink.
touched by the greatest weapon
broken
pens

— The End —