"defensible" poems
“you should watch for what’s good and say so, watch for what’s bad and say that,
and be afraid of neither observation.
If you lose your temper, lose it; if you find yourself unexpectedly moved, admit it.
Keep your tools, compass and gyroscope,
clean, dry and level.”
Peggy Noonan,
columnist, author
<•>
good
Christmas Eve advice
getting harder to find,
wheat from chaff, and all that,
what’s sensible,
what’s defensible,
and what actually feels
A~ok!
as in
perhaps, it actually could be,
pause to think,
correct?
and:or:heck,
even right
so if you read the above ,
take it from a couple of senior geezers,
you just got a holiday freebie!
yeah, yeah, keep your powder dry,
just ain’t the same, sorry…
we talking tools and fools here,
them that keep you
on a course
of your owned free choice,
with an assist,
to know your position & to
never to lose your balance
when everybody is
instantly
telling you what to think,
take that long pause,
use your tools,
to pick the problem up,
Rubik’s cube it,
twist and shout,
when the
solution emerges
‘tis the season for
preaching and overreaching,
but use this quietime pause,
look internal,
and keep your instinct and
inside tools oiled,
and mind open, clarified
wish you then, clear eyes, open ears & love;
wisdom, that’s up to you,
but, you’re a billionaire for sure,
use the grey cells you were given
thoughtfully & well,
and keep on looking for
‘what’s a good way,’
which is always an
everlasting work
nat lipstadt
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 11:24 AM UTC
Disdain and enmity,
for which there is no remedy,
gives acrimony inside of me,
for which I have no doubt,
The only way that I can see
an end to animosity,
is a clear and simple breaking free
from shackles which hold me down.
Without your burden, I can be
free to surreptitiously,
achieve a sense of normalcy
to what was once before.
Before the orders conferred to me,
carried out, sans questioning,
I had a life; a dream you see.
But no not anymore.
I used to live quite happily,
free from thinking cynically
of my peers along with me;
Our intentions leave some doubt
To what is just morally,
defensible with sanity.
A torn asunder effigy,
of who we used to be.
My name will fade from memory,
a number chalked in history,
regarded with incredulity
that I was here at all.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
aloof alphas attack!
banal betas boom, before backing
cautiously, creeping
down, defensible dark
estuaries, estranged escapes
from fierce fiery-eyed
giant gators gathered,
hard hearted hedged
in impossible illumination, irate
jowly jeering jaded jackals
**** **** **** …
let loose low laughs
making much mirth mercilessly
now none need nourishment
oblivious obvious, overt
a putrescent phalanx,
quite quintessential a querulous quorum
a quatre
raucous resounding raptorials retreated
subsequently seizing sizeable sarcoid
sections in scissor strokes
total tormentors, that time twists the
ugly utilitarian
veracious victory
works the wild
yearning as
zealots
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Scalade skyward pile,
Of defensible tile,
Bituminous seams mossy gaps.
Board aloft to defray,
Fletched missiles array,
Groomed on as lethal a trap.
Scalade meet the stone,
Long from our home,
As generals command the intrusion.
To Kings do we kneel,
Ere slay with cold steel,
Pass lightning and bring this conclusion.
Trod darkest parade,
Woods endless scalade,
Blistering gleams of the pitch.
One knight in Queen’s arms,
Keen maid’s airy balms,
Do graces scar memory per stitch.
Jul 27, 2010
Jul 27, 2010 at 2:22 AM UTC
Retirement and the remote control,
This sounds like a whinge in an ode,
Retired men and remote controls,
Includes, "Who gave old men phones?"
Is this what 'golden years' meant?
Defensible violence to retired men?
You'll be getting good manners for tea,
And not much more from me!
Don't you go T-Rex on me!
I want a turn on that remote control, please,
You've turned into a sook and a toad,
My 'golden years' whinge in an ode.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC
They said I was wrong
in the head, a case study
for the shrinks.
Neurotic, psychotic...
and a few other
- otics and - olics.
Uniqueness allows me to stand out,
drawing attention by my lack of
animation, but they call it
a case.
Although I try to live
normally,
quiet pressure builds
from outside and my skin
turns clammy.
Studies show...
blah blah blah...
a vacant stare as I
withdraw from forces which
label me.
I am failing in my effort
to remain whole,
'at peace' is barely registering
in my need to co-exist.
With quickening breath,
life giving air eludes my
needful lungs. I cannot see
beyond the red rimmed
glasses of my tear-filled eyes.
Furtive glances reveal
those who wish me
locked away, or at the very least...
hidden.
Why?
Why me? I truly am
defensible, responsible,
along with a couple more
-ibles and -ables.
Yet you have caused me
this unbearable angst,
I can't take
your condescending looks,
touches, thoughts.
I am leaving.
For good.
Thanks for the
ride.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
Like a storm surge
But of blood
Rushing up to the temple
Melted veins
Hidden underneath thickened skin
Bruised swollen lips
Between clattering teeth
Anger seduced the racing beat
Of a trampled heart
But the mind exercised
Self discipline
Coerced the flame
Erupting out of a bleeding heart
To submit
A hateful battle between
Sensible mentality and defensible emotions
Where neither wins
Tears
They threatened to rain
but refused to fall
Refused
to be ruined
as the rest of you
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Thoughts never made it to my hands
Should have never taken the chance
Now I'm on a one way road
Can't stop to shed the load
And looking back, it all seems to shrink
Yet I'm stuck, somewhere in between..
Almost is my favourite place to be
Between a rock and a warm place
Won't let them all know me
It's called defensible space
Except for one, if only he could hold me..
But distance isn't measured
in meters with you
And time, well seconds and hours never suited you
your name's a spell I utter quite often
One more day, keep my doors open..
Have you ever looked at a person
And known that's who you'd love
And never hold back?
When I saw you I knew
Time was a useless construct...
And right now,
Almost is my favourite place to be..
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
We're all the same here.
Amateur poets screaming for attention,
for someone to hold our spilled guts in their hands,
to see a fortune,
whatever it is that we want at the moment.
Humans have so many shared experiences,
yet we fail so frequently to connect.
For what?
"There's nothing new under the sun."
Legally recognized, defensible.
There's only one reason for a story to be a story: conflict.
There's two plots: the end is better than the beginning,
or the end is worse.
Kind of like how there's really only two choices in all of life,
and the rest is subsequent.
Do you give up, or do you not?
Do you let yourself whither and die,
pathetic,
drowning in your own tears, rupturing your stomach
by feasting on your own self-pity,
crying about being alone but pushing everyone away...
Or do you get the **** up, even if it means sewing your mouth shut to hide your own screams
and stuffing rods in your back to hold you up,
no matter how much it hurts,
and tell everyone you have a chronic eye condition,
to explain the weeping?
We're never really free.
But we're also never really constrained.
We're nothing; and that's why we're everything..
Because we're all the ******* same.
Get over it.
I've heard it all before.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Discernible ‘yes’ from word-keeps on high
Merriam says it’s clear thinking between
--confusion (sounds bad), or insanity (worse)
Those on the edges can feel what I mean
Our grand word-keeps really must justify
The mean in this meaning,
out-bounded by boundary,
lined-out by this outline,
now liminal quandary
Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Webster, my friend, have you deep-thought this through?
Sanction is clear from this definite frame
-- English agrees, but is that important?
English is not the sole tongue in the game
Here is a series of queries for you
Can you margin it all out?
The hurt and the fallout?
For people who crawl out
adrift from your callout?
Not-lucid has rescued me more times than countable
And really not-lucid has caught me mid-fall
Through memory patches of pain insurmountable
Muddling dull was the best break of all
The cogent, coherent, and clean-comprehensible
Can open tight screw-capped emotional stores
Unprocessed experience, only defensible
By wool-wrapping windows, and baffling doors
Lucid is better, so better be lucid?
Politely diverge from Merriam’s word
Webster’s position humanely disclaim
--Gratitude-pour over fuzzy and haze
Cloud-foggy, mind-misty, heavy, mush-brain
Rational praised, but when needed, deferred
Hail shields of deep feeling
all lucid-real reeling
rewinding revealing
to heel allows healing
‘Lucid? Not always’ the kindly refrain
Outsiders rest on the inside again
And never confuse, confused and insane
Sep 27, 2024
Sep 27, 2024 at 4:24 AM UTC
Are we really thinking of bombs again?
Can it ever be justified to take a life?
The cycle of blame seems so never-ending
Who will state ‘Enough of this violence!’
How can we let our children grow up thinking
That killing is a defensible act?
Do we really believe we are curing the malady?
Are we really thinking of bombs again?
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC