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The most damaging and deceitful lies

are the ones we tell ourselves

Written: April 20, 2019

All rights reserved.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2017
once upon a wrote


here and there, in fables and tales,
some in no guile and others
in chancier disguises,
some sine-known and some sign-unknown,
some dead in stillbirth,
some penned these words,
some a few decades old,
some of but a moment ago eyelash distant,
making me think that
someday I will scribe,
cobble some truths and
some falsehoods into one
leaping heaping melting scoop,
letting you decide,
which for better,
which for worse...


<•>

"No matter that plain words
are my ordinary tools,
With them I shall scribe the small,
Cherish the little, grab the middle,
Simplicity my golden rule,
Write they say,
about what you know best,
Surely in the diurnal motions,
The arc of daily commotion,
Do we not all excel?"

<•>

the reason we say so oft,
in whispers emboldened,

I love you

to our children
is not the utility of
its summarizing brevity

no, no.
it is because
the eloquence of simplicity
supersedes any other poem
any of us could ever write...

<•>

is this craft that chose you,
not defined by machine millimeters,
precision absolute,
curvatures, so eye-pleasing,
they demonstrate no tolerance
for tolerance of the ordinary?

the skill of words, too, cut so fine,
find the  extraordinary within,
refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite,
the reused,
discard the instant recognition,
unusable

<•>

There are natural toxins in us all,
if you wish to understand the
whys, the reasons,
of the nearness of taking/giving away
what soully belongs to you,
do your own sums,
admit your own truths,
query not the lives of others,
approach the mirror...

<•>

The Truth Burden
is the accursed need obligatory,
the sacred sanctity requisitioned,
when the whenever,
chooses to drop in and upflag the mailbox,
an uninvited invitation,
announcing with precise bluntness,
that precisely now,
is the tool crafted moment
and you fool,
the selected tool

you must render unto Ceaser,
by your own hand,
render your own rendering,
do your own undoing,
go forth and in haste,
will thyself into the cauldron of the
Great Mystery of Creation

you cannot lie in poetry

<•>

come, sit for awhile, in poet's nook,
soft pillows for our hard Adirondack chairs,
situe hard by the bay, if too hot, we'll slow
drift to the sun room of
lace curtains and suicide poems,
still we'll observe the water, the rabbits, the cacophony low,
listening to all the noisier, nosier
creatures asking themselves,
and the trees and leaves,
where did all those poets come from?

<•>

to the interior delve,
via brush or limb,
pen or music,
the exposition, the exploration,
the reconstruction of composing
one's self, creation and destruction
of your own myths

movement of arms and legs,
sparseness of simplicity,
subsidiaries of centricity,
tributaries of complexity

<•>

how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem

the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?

there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, welded and wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever extinguish


<•>

now I ken better distance 'tween
artist and art,
I, a workingman's
daily dallying in simplistic machine craft,
my works deservedly lost in
the water-falling
of the endless also rans

non-nebulous distances.between skies of
Oregon country blue and
the worldy worn asphalt grayed words of
a graying man aging,
then let clarity speak, in plainest harmony,
know my deference’s soars to the high above,
one of us at birth, god gifted,
was not I,
it ain't me babe, but
one of us, his tongue,
like Moses-stung
with a hot coal
of language's divinity


<•>
The film, my greatest of all time "Once Upon A Time In America" beautifully
made a film directed by Sergio Leon
About a group of kids growing up together
to being adults making money from prohibition
selling
alcohol
to one them played by actor James woods becomes a corrupt senator through stealing all the money that they had all saved
together as a gang over the years, who had faked his own death and changed his name but authorities were closing In on his corrupt
dealing
he doesn't want to **** himself so he tries to get his one time a best friend played by Robert De Nero through an elaborate plan to ****
him
but his best friend won't do It  Don't want to spoil It for those who haven't seen It
But the film and music score beautifully by Erino Morricone you have to watch the full version because It was thought too long by censors for cinema
so they had to make large cuts which with the film being  told partly In flashback ruined It, the cinema audience couldn't understand what the film was
about
so It was redone full version no cuts for VIDEO then DVD all then made sense and It's my favourite film of all time
Once Upon A Time In America my choice for best film ever a great story wonderful actors
Beautiful music score by Erino Morricone
The clocks stopped ticking
the day she went away
no longer did I have awareness of time
when the clock
stopped
ticking 
for
me
The clock stopped ticking for me the day I laid a single red rose on her grave that was the
day
the clock
stopped
ticking
for
me
The clock has stopped ticking for me no longer
do care about time
don't know
date or the
day
that
we're
In
don't even know the month we're In, for the clock has stopped ticking for the last for me the day
I left a single red rose on
her
grave
a rose that
said
It
all
The clock stopped ticking for me the day I laid a single red does on Helen's grave
And as I lay me down to sleep at night In dreams Helen at the age I am with disabilities
pain
I would not be overly concerned If I were not to wake upon the morning light but questions before I depart  
I would ask did I do enough In life and did I live my life the best I could did show enough compassion
for others In desperate need and have I spoken out enough against the evils of this
world
The corruption the total lack compassion for desperate people of our society
When I lay me down to sleep If the answer to any of these questions Is yes then will not be sorry If don't wake upon the morning
light
If I should not wake upon the morning light just as long as I feel Ive done enough that will be OK for me
In restless sleep, I feel Helen laying here with
I smell the fragrance
of her favourite perfume filling midnight
air
Whilst running fingers through her beautiful
hair, to gaze upon her
nakedness to stoke her with my fingertips
To kiss again the sweetness of her lips, to rest my head gently upon her *******
with, the rise and fall with every breath
I want to stay forever laid with her, held gentle In her soothing arms all but now a dream, but a dream I never want to awake
from
Wonderful dreams of Helen layed In her arms held In heeast r gentle arms lay my head on her ******* the rise and fall with every breath
Johnny walker Feb 14
I fly my dreams through time and space carry
them with me to a faraway place deep within
my
mind

A place untouched by anyone else but my wife and me to where we live our lives again within my dreams

I dream at night to where we are together again
Until such time when I don't awaken from my dream upon the morning light for It's then, I know for sure I'll be free at
last
If should not awaken from a dream its then I'll will be finally free to with my wife again
I know their people will say get a life to forget the past and try to move
on
but my memories and dreams of Helen they are far too strong for me to move on
For Helen was the only woman I'd ever laid hands on for she was my first and my only
one
For her memories are far too strong for me to even contemplate moving
on
So I'll go back to my memories and dreams of my wife and be happy and contented for the rest of my life
For my memories of Her are far to strong Helen the only woman I ever did
love the only woman to lay my hands upon
Helen memories far to strong to even contemplate moving on
The memories that were drawn by the past,
the colourful thoughts retained but gone to fade, thus each traces has remained within.

Time flies like bubble nor fogs amongst the wind
that rapidly obviates each and every moment.

For all single times went by,
for all the pile of hued scenes in our lives,
for all the tales of our immediate past,
luck indeed tends to come once in a lifetime.

...and when your wish finally came true,
embrace and don't let it pass,
because sometimes destiny is kind, selfish
or sulky.

Bethink that we cannot plead the time
to visit nor repeat the elapsed precious moments.
Treasure each moment that you have and treasure it more because you shared it with someone special and remember time waits for no one.
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2018
The sea is deep or is it
compare to the deepening
drawing down moon upon it?
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