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#renamed
what cheek, the audacity to sheer his name from his faceless appearance, well, I know something of names, and mysteriously common and vague, said as often as **** does not satisfy this certified member of the hoi polloi of humens grace, with a small g, not to be confused with those courtiers in human courts who so address their temporal superiors, who more often than not, chop off with their head, just god downy not longer for being insufficiently lying in their obsequiousness grace is a virtue par excellence, multi~facetedly faced, reflecting well and goodness on both the speaker and the hearing, if grace you know not the meaning of, then research it and let it reflect back upon your countenance replace god with grace, and forgive me this too obvious rhyme, it will only be better days for the human race ><>< my name? hah! sinner man
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Sep 22, 2025
Sep 22, 2025 at 1:38 PM UTC
I re-named god
7:54AM Sun Feb 8, 2026 with a simple - now resting tween first and last name,, not even an ~ with its **** serpentine curvaceousness division, and the symbolism stinks and sinks me deeper than Dante’s Inferno; Dear Eliot, which unholy coder deemed that our individualism be so tarnished! My name is my name. The who in Whom am I? The very subject that has essayed my life, my poetry, an eight decade of struggle, thousands of poems reduced to a dash, summarizing, reducing the existence of me in a single little scratch used to separate when I love con~joining, a super verb that speaks to more than joining but combining! concocting & connecting, and having write too much upon it, in tributes to words that assemble multitudes into one, of body parts that touch and enliven us with heart sparks when our skin cells scrape, our bodies function as one for the pleasuring of two, celebrating our difference in language, color, genetics, all of which are superseded by our common humanity and somebody at HP, sundered me, split this big baby in too two easy pieces, for their conveniency, I adored the gap in my name, the challenge of filling that space with my uniqueness’s the subterranean container of a mountain of life’s experiences, within my mind, contained in my body, the fomenting brew of blood, guts, fat and grease, fluids abnormal, poisons and antidotes, inflammation flaming, heart occluding, scarred skin mapping of cuts all over my body that were made to rebuild my dying heart, and memory bruises that never disappear, each a poem colorful of the risks of living, the pain of ignorance, the Cain of my failings, my muderous guilt, all of which in the spaces of my senses, eternally re lived, felt, occasion ally re lieved, but that never was meant to be closed, topped off, by a stinking exceedingly brief screwed~on capping-cover of a wordless unbraced embrace of unromantic, life ending symbol, a ****** little pockmark of a - I am Nat Lipstadt, the unhypenhated, un hypyed pen hated beloved and behated, be stilled, and ALL the spaces tween beginning and end that is.are.were. my marks of existence forever unfulfilled, and remains so, till my inevitable existence reconciliation with my essence creator, who alone can modify it thusly, Nat Lipstadt.
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Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 7:27 AM UTC
-I too have been renamed-
7:54AM Sun Feb 8, 2026 with a simple - now resting tween first and last name,, not even an ~ with its **** serpentine curvaceousness division, and the symbolism stinks and sinks me deeper than Dante’s Inferno; Dear Eliot, which unholy coder deemed that our individualism be so tarnished! My name is my name. The who in Whom am I? The very subject that has essayed my life, my poetry, an eight decade of struggle, thousands of poems reduced to a dash, summarizing, reducing the existence of me in a single little scratch used to separate when I love con~joining, a super verb that speaks to more than joining but combining! concocting & connecting, and having write too much upon it, in tributes to words that assemble multitudes into one, of body parts that touch and enliven us with heart sparks when our skin cells scrape, our bodies function as one for the pleasuring of two, celebrating our difference in language, color, genetics, all of which are superseded by our common humanity and somebody at HP, sundered me, split this big baby in too two easy pieces, for their conveniency, I adored the gap in my name, the challenge of filling that space with my uniqueness’s the subterranean container of a mountain of life’s experiences, within my mind, contained in my body, the fomenting brew of blood, guts, fat and grease, fluids abnormal, poisons and antidotes, inflammation flaming, heart occluding, scarred skin mapping of cuts all over my body that were made to rebuild my dying heart, and memory bruises that never disappear, each a poem colorful of the risks of living, the pain of ignorance, the Cain of my failings, my muderous guilt, all of which in the spaces of my senses, eternally re lived, felt, occasion ally re lieved, but that never was meant to be closed, topped off, by a stinking exceedingly brief screwed~on capping-cover of a wordless unbraced embrace of unromantic, life ending symbol, a ****** little pockmark of a - I am Nat Lipstadt, the unhypenhated, un hypyed pen hated beloved and behated, be stilled, and ALL the spaces tween beginning and end that is.are.were. my marks of existence forever unfulfilled, and remains so, till my inevitable existence reconciliation with my essence creator, who alone can modify it thusly, Nat Lipstadt.
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63
isn’t it strange that we don’t name ourselves? because if i had the choice, i would be named: the girl with wavy or curly hair that never belongs anywhere or the girl who believes in God more than herself the girl who fears rejection like it is Covid-19 the girl who wished upon a star, but is still waiting on her delivery the girl who is senseless who knows nothing about anything the girl whose best friend left her when she was thirteen the girl who associates made up or distant people with safety and security the girl who listens to too much music and it clouds her judgment the girl who re-enacts movies after she sees them play onscreen the girl who gets lost in Disney movies and doesn’t enjoy reality the girl who died after eighth grade and is despising the high school experience the girl who purposely curses herself on friday the thirteenth the girl who lost her mind and has lost all her glory eruption, disaster, ugly, failure, useless, dramatic, romantic, not even close to funny, unintelligent, boring, exhausting to be around, psychotic, waste of space, crazy the girl who is anyone, but what my parents named me the girl named…
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Aug 1, 2022
Aug 1, 2022 at 4:54 PM UTC
parent’s chosen name