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Nat Lipstadt Sep 2023
there’s a poem I need to write…
that’s all I know, title, subject undisclosed,
new morn amourning arrives,  when writing~writhing
hunger, comes and remains till fufillment,
sometimes, nagging, sometimes roaring, completion is
the satiation satisfaction when the pouring/
spilling is from within to without, topping off
the nearest receptacle with hugger-muggery,
beauty jumbled, elegantly jagged linen creased

the it of it, must be done, so my heart un-seizes,
breathing to nearly next to normal, yet the distance there
incroyable, inch or mile, meter matters not, until closed it’s a
chasm rupturing,
 fingers grasping my temples, to hold the
jumbled tumbling innards within, redirected towards my
screaming fingertips, hoping, relief will come sooner,
making room until the throat and lungs engorged,
when~with this selfsame need returns
on the morrow
if, when,
my eyes open,
and yesterday itself
is a writ,
a realization accomplished

~~~~~~~
perhaps, you recognize yourself?
perhaps, you reconcile yourself?
Tue Sep 28 2023 +82
#poemtowrite #lipstadt
Continue reading...
Yanna Oct 2014
Escapism
Running, painting, smoking, ***, drinking, writing, reading, socializing... the fufillment these outlets give me are temporary. These dark thoughts within me are forever.
#sad #depressed #lost #dark #young #girls #escapism #addictions #outlets
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2020
In Their Own Words: “All I’ve ever learned from love is....”
In Their Own Words:

“All I’ve ever learned from love is....”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So come, my friends, be not afraid.  We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made.  In love we disappear.  Tho’ all the maps of blood and flesh are posted on the door,  there’s no one who has told us yet what Boogie Street is for.                                     Leonard Cohen

All I've learned from love that it appears on its own timetable,
and, all I've learned from love is, it is the purpose. Harlon Rivers

“is crazy and this is infinite and ever so sobering wondrous possible"
Medusa

It is a paradox of two people - in debit to one another though each may never realise;
and neither one of whom would ever consider recalling the debt. Gideon

A headlong charge into a vast unknown that promises fufillment of every lacy, perfumed dream, but may instead deliver wrenching wounds that only another love can heal. Lori Jones McCaffery

every fantastic mistake I ever really made! Drunk in shallow bar light with a woman of my wicked dreams who laughed as loud as me at our shared ****** jokes we both got. We loved for awhile and then wandered and still loved forever as we found other dim bars with more wicked dreams.                                        gray dot (unknown)

All I have learned from love is to give more than one receives unconditionally.                                                ­K Balachandran


"love is the great equalizer: ignoring age, race, education, wealth, religion, disability, and sanity... simultaneously capable of lifting all to the highest highs and dragging all into the deepest depths. In love there is no pride or ego." forgotten

that just beyond is a hidden trail, where a magical river of the purest water flows free. Here and only here, my heart can be revived, and my mind is stilled by the silence I find. Love’s call is gentle. Joey

“that love is as love does.”
victoria

All I ever learned from love is the meaning of the word, "unconditional!”.           SE Reimer

Sometimes we fall in love, and sometimes love falls on us.
Stephen E. Yocum

it is gentle rage, come like sun through clouds, to feed parched earth....one word to set life a tingle, the first smile of a golden
boy's day.  The last caress before sleep, the letting go of a dying
friends hand and the gathering together of companions for food
and laughter, love comes in many guises, has many faces and is
lifeblood to the soul hiding within.                   betterdays

where the beginnings end and the ends begin.    Elizabeth J.

The burial of fear and all we’ve ever known In hope for a new flourishment.    Dante Rocio

that life flows in abundance of peace, harmony and balance when I
surrender to live in love.                                                            ­    Cné

that love assuages hurt and heals the wounded...it rings with melody
and dances to the heavens.  It’s the divine giving over of body and mind;  it's mystic transcendence an overwhelming feeling of pure ecstasy.                                                         ­                              patty m


that love is a dunghill, and I'm a crow that stands on it and caws.
                                                           ­                           Thomas W Case

Acceptance.  Acceptance of myself and of the ones I love.
                                                           ­                                    Kelly Rose

It is easier to give love than to accept it.         Walter W Hoelbling

was what I learned from her...Love is above, beyond what we all wish, we had to touch the sun, the moon, the stars; everything we have.                                                                            Temporal Fugue

that it is unique; it makes the softest body, hard, and softens the hardest heart.                                                           ­     poetontheroof

Our hearts tied but I don't know how.                       Anonymous

Love has the ability to surpass life. Even though you are gone I still can’t stop loving you. “Love leaves more behind than death ever takes away. “ -unknown.                                        Love Storytelling

to never go searching for it. That's it, I guess.                      Aparna

has been gleamed through the sacrifice and service of a few extraordinary souls.  For true love is borne of sacrifice, and
it compels us to serve.  Without those elements, it cannot exist.
                                                                 J Klein and Sons Pen Parish

it requires curiosity to truly uncover; it is an emotion
that makes us uniquely human.                                        Angelique

that sometimes it hurts and sometimes it thrills, but
love that kills your pain is always worth the dying for.                 r

it is a gift from God, most precious and not to be abused or taken
for granted.                                                         ­ South by Southwest

how to hurt.                                                           Andrew Crawford

is that, it comes like lightning...it jolts, it makes, or breaks a future;
it hangs around, no matter what, if it's meant to be...yours...
all i've learned from love made me a tree, with fruits
with a blend of sour and honeyed truths, it is heaven...
when bared, shared... reciprocated.                            Sally A Bayan

that it is hard and it hurts but we cannot live without it... there is no storybook endings. You take the good and bad and make it what you need.                                                            ­                     Melissa S.

The burial of fear and all we’ve ever known
In hope for a new flourishment. Dante Rocio

that I can’t, won’t, don’t want to ever live life without Love! ♥️ Feeling Love Sparks everyday forever and always ♥️ Loving Love Glass Slipper Girl

to accept it when it is given, to share it when it is felt, to cherish it because it is a gift and that whether it hurts or it heals, it is far better to have experienced it than to not have.                                  BLT

that love is...forever studied; gravity, it is akin to the sense of gravity;
it can never be explained, felt, or experienced, but never grasped in ones hand.                                                            ­              wordvango

that if you have it, you should give it.                                  amanda

how to turn up my face and surrender to the rain.  
                                                         ­             Clementine Valerie Black

that God is love expressed by Jesus, and I'm my best when I imitate Christ.   Christos Victor

the most over analyzed, overwrought word that remains after thousands of years, completely
inexplicable.                                                   ­             onlylovepoetry                  

it's a strength and weakness, ecstasy and agony, a belief and fear (of losing), emotional contradictions yet so intrinsically precious to be worth living and dying for.                          Pradip Chattopadhyay

the emptiness of smothering empathy for all that lives, feels and needs.  It's to bear eternal suffering...                                   Traveler


red.                                                                                                     Fog


to give, far outweighs the take.                                        Mike Hauser


that it lifts open our minds' eyes, overturns our fears in this vast expanse of the unknown - it etherally reveals our connection
Melody

how deep is my ignorance.                                              Joel M Frye

that love has nothing to do with ***. It has everything to do with sick kids at 3am and holding back your friends hair when she pukes in the gutter crying over some ******* who just dumped her. It's selfless.
                                                       ­                                                 Acme

noth­ing compared to what I've learned from pain.                 v V v


the things I’ve never learned.                                               M-E

that is the cancer and the cure; the detour and the straight line; proof of reincarnation and death everlasting; the intersection where extreme selflessness and selfishness meet, becoming indistinguishable; it’s shapeless, nearly invisible, and yet known to everyone; a verb, a noun, a conjunction between and a preposition to a beginning and a dead end.
                                                            ­                               Nat Lipstadt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thanks to all the participants, so far...(see the note below)
This is an open, living poem; anyone should feel free to message me to add, amend, or delete; just message me directly; won’t modify if you just comment.

one more thing don’t ask me to add an old poem that is only tangentially related: write a max of two or  three sentences that
clearly and directly responds to the title...

format is.deliberately sloppy, just like the subject    
matter.

and the original version (2017)

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2187204/all-ive-learned-from-love-for-leonard/
#their #words #all #learned #love #lipstadt
Continue reading...
Ben Jun 2013
Lost My Way
Cult popularism overtakes my brain
Conformity rushing unwillingly, stiflingly, down my throat

The literature of the mind taken from me
By my own devices
The lure of the cliched mass' is oblivion
Fufillment of an expected mold
Individuality of thought drains away

May my overthinking of all be lost
In this teenage stereotype
Just thoughts on how when a shy individual, with all their quirks and whatnot, is tempted by the life of the 'popular' person, accepting usually means cutting away your more individual opinions and behaviour
Continue reading...
Jack Dalton Oct 2013
H.H no 2 (Sidhartha)
We drank and became aware.
After a sneaky shot of whiskey.
The hispanic reminded myself.
The ingnorent Michael of sidharthas plan.
If he came now and toaday.
Could the sidhartha buddha search his own.
There are circumstanses to understand.
Sidhartha sidhartha.  I read about the river.
Govinda found your nieve friend.
The man who would be disiple for the world.
Sidhartha would find somone elses journey.
Which in the making was his own creation.
In a epic adventure what's worth the struggle.
Its to easy and simple giving in.
Our sidhartha understood the noble Idea.
Which is make patience before accepting and believing what you have to.
In his unshaken morals he would become the buddha.  
A soul every person needs to read about.
If they want fufillment in life.
Continue reading...
Mike Virgl Mar 2018
The Duo Dances, Teases, but Never Forgets About that Numerical Moat
I was alone.
With the pitter patter

My solemn mouth
From a bitter shatter.

I still hear.
The waters eating waves

My hearts flutters
Reflecting the knave.

I had fun.
With another rosary

My soul asks,
"Was it just tonight?"

I dont feel.
I dont feel now

My passions stills
With a heart bow.

I feel distracted.
Why do I look?

My senses joined
As my brains crook.

I lose belief.
In self fufillment

My feelings pass
The path to sacrament.

I want death.
Upon my stimulation

My feeling gone
I give a libation.

I am tranquil.
Not sad, or desperate

My face is rational
As emotion is separate.

I offer myself.
And give peacefully

My ending, my soul
And my entire body.

To unlock the peace I found and to keep it forever.
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jun 16
The Perpetuity of the Momentary
the propulsion of compulsion is indefatigable,
it cannot no more, be ignored, as if it is forming
a holy commandment, number 11, you must
write when so ordered, denial is temporary
i n s a n i t y, and the backlog of nuances be
comes longer and longer by the instant

the provocateurs, them eyes, those eyes,
even the ears and tongue join in to instigate,
the cabal of influencers who peddle no product,
demand no payment but total obeisance and
sometimes low-class instant fufillment, for here
I am in servitude,@ 4:33am, by dawn’s early light
(no **** for real), propelled and compelled by
the creative, the spilling urgency of the need
to expel notions of potions that flit between the

frontal lobe, parietal lobe, cingulate gyrus,
and prefrontal cortex: (I told  you, it’s a cabal!)
all  firing
up neurons like electron spark plugs, and only
I can see the sparks colliding inside as letters,
words, phrases, none lazy, all demand long life,

or the Perpetuity of the Momentary”

it grows lighter by the minute and the sporadic
lights across the bay wink morse code secrets
to the observant, and Noyac’s  tree line has
become a distinguishable and distinctive
land mass to which I crossed last nite via &
upon the South Ferry, when all these conflicting
concepts began a painful birthing delivery,
the coagulation of the flighty, merging and
transforming into my child, in my bed, through
the picture window that has so oft been complicit
in the ganging up on my very, very old and restless
brain

but, uh, this ecrivez, this motion that the momentum
of the momentary desiring & deserving of monuments
to the perpetual
won’t be stilled and hours later, with it’s invisible hands
around my throat, it yanks from within what did not
exist ten minutes prior, but always existed inside me
as a jumbled puzzle, gestating quietly till a swift kick
of birthing pains insufferable accompanied by her
raucous dreams, awoke me from ******* and rhyming
Rem Sleep, to now, this moment, named forever as
4:57am and this noisy newborn, covered in embryonic
fluid (wonderful but disgusting really) is all ready pealing and peeling
off suggestions for brothers and sisters, this arrogance
is untenable, but the babe laughs at me, for it knows that
there are hidden, voluminous files of titles awaiting their
turning time of final conception

no longer nighttime, an early forming day, it too,
covered in its own fluidity, awaits discovery, for
the lights from across the bay have gone to bed,
turned off but the greatest, more powerful
brighter discharges
of the Sun Gods

The Bay’s waters are still, though my woman is not,
muttering, still dreaming out loud, as if she wishes
to foment
turbulence, and desires a boat for safe conveyance
across the dark seas of the night to the searing bright
June summer day that the Greek seers have forecast,
and then that moment, like it’s older sibling, will demand,
it’s very moment of personalized perpetuity, its own
unique naming,
a full recording, a welcoming by the Preservation Band,
amidst the glory of its mother mornings colorings of
palest blues, puffery of cumulus whitiwhispers all tinged
in my favorite, flavored color, creamsicle orange,
and the calming power is self evident for the rustling
back and forth of raucous dreams have ceased, and I too
am no longer possessed by the moment, until soon
when the hands creep slow round my throat by a new
moment, and all is lost, all is gained and a newest poem
is brought from the womb of my ancient past, my currency
of the next minutes and the wealth of words that are
available to us all! demands one of us, perhaps you?
to commit its actualized existence into reality

I bid you a soft adieu, for the chores of existence
those demanding pests of drudged biblical
pestilence
can no longer be kept
waiting

nml
5:21am
Sun Jul 16
2024

writ at you know where…
writ in the “moment”
#perpetuity #momentary #lipstadt #nml
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Apr 2023
A Reflection on the Vietnam War Memorial
Family biz takes us on the Acela train to Washington, D.C.,
a many-hour tour of the Monuments upon the Mall inclus,
never on a prior agenda, despite semi-frequent visitations,
but this time, rose early, in the cool morning, to touch and be touched

She asks if we have time enough for the Vietnam War Memorial,
time enough plentiful, no inkling her purpose was manifold, nay,
woman-fold, relating a story of a first teen boyfriend, they vowed,
to never lose touch, tho they became geographically distanced

On New Year’s day, a promise to each other, to speak on the phone,
they do honor this commitment, he will call, for in your early years,
solemn promises, honor, memories potentialities, galvanize bonds;
first love’s easy camaraderie birth tender promises, kept well-tended!

Till one year, no call comes, and desire, necessitates her to be
the protagonist, only to learn that Gerald, drafted in ‘68,
did not return, his parents inform her, the story told wistfully,
a Ranger locates his name, her reflection strains to reach his letters

Only I see her eyes filling and brimming, the shoulders ever
so slightly sagging and know this moment needs memorializing,
for we shed tears so rarely, that this youthful relationship, now more than threescore extant is why we built this black granite wall

Visit the Jefferson, MLK, Washington’s obelisk, and of course
the author of “of the people, by the people, for the people,”
a humble visage, humanizes his grandiose, white robed presence,
assessing his potential measure of life assassin-shortened, we exclaim

”if only, what might have been!”

but no tears are shed, but for a name of a young man,
taken before his prime, who enabled a girl to taste deep own-self, at an age we barely ken the words revealing our true emotive, or understand the color palette of serious, meanings of how we tick…

she’s easy overcome, I wonder, was she inside feeling, exclaiming,
”if only, what might have been,”
but no words emitted, only tears, that a tissue so softly takes away,
I think who among us, yet sheds sad tears for the days of our youth?

this poem in fufillment of my obligations, witness, memorializer,
arm to be leaned on, carrier of Kleenex, compatriot tear-shedder,
empathetic, sympathetic and recording secretary
that our past, is never truly past,

it is just waiting for a reflection,
resurfacing one more time
on a high polished black
granite slab

<postscript>

black granite mirrors sandblasted refresh cut scars into our consciousness and for some, our conscience, as one who
rarely thinks of and forgets to reflect on the life lottery he won,
back in 1968, so he was not called to serve, exclaiming

”if only, what might have been!”
In Memoriam
Gerald Levy
#lipstadt #reflections #vietnam #memorial
Continue reading...
mel Dec 2018
a r r i v a l
Love from a place of fufillment
never love to quench a lonely thirst
let your seams seep Self-alignment
from filling up your soul-needs first

externally so much noise can exist
but you have the power to quiet it
by making space for self-awareness
its expansion is your assignment

don’t let this world distract you
from the Worth that You Shine with
all that you ever seek for isn’t lost but
deep down inside—always it thrives
and like gravity, it keeps tugging
at your Soul to Arrive
#soul #shine #alive #arrive #selflove #self #awareness #expansion
Continue reading...
Robyn Dec 2013
Voiceless
My love for others is formed in desperation
I lose myself in the broken valleys of their eyes
Because I've lost you across a pit as wide as beauty
And as deep as jealousy
I fight to keep my independence
By depending on the abandoned and lonely
I'm so tired of you
But I've got no one else
Gloved hands stroke my hair
Yet they are mine
I've created a hand to hold in the winter of my desperation
And it's as cold as everything
I succumb to shameful acts of self fufillment
To protect my heart from the the anguish that awaits me in your arms
But do I know?
Can I know what truly waits in the shadow you cast?
In my desolation, not only did I lose hope
But hope lost me
In a dark world of unfulfilled expecations, their hues biting at me heels
I am lost in the invisible tragedy of the fall
I have succumbed to the despondency
And expect it to suffice
Replace what I refuse and fear to ask you for

Voiceless, I am begging you
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2016
A kiss in the wind (for patty m)
<>


(for patty m)

"always love hearing from you,
it's like a kiss in the wind"


we are intimate
though never ever close,
but faithful closer

familiar,
though our convivial roads
are uncrossed, except and accept
in the delicate pearl inlay
of our poesy path

our common way station,
where can we exchange private confidentialities
publicly, above and beyond,
the plain and ordinary everyday
intimacies

from the balcony of the sixteenth floor,
I can see the horizons holding
our shared land together.

the wind blows by,
from the Atlantic crossing,
continuing on its
westward ** way

wind comes inquiring as is its wont,
as a faithful and familiar evening-tide messenger,
desirous, needy for its wantings fufillment,
to be a deliverer of
deliverances and
all kind of tidings,
sent by the
in absentia

I post a poem

the letters scatter heavenward,
no worries,
the amorphous wind,
will Oz like
reassemble them
in holy order and
brush them
across your face,
tickle the lips and eyelashes,
still moist from
missing a man who was
intimate different,
in a lifetime way

and that kiss,
that postage paid,
the meager cost
the wind receives,
for a mission well accomplished,
is transferred to you and yours
to enable you to decode
this implausibly but-all-to
plausible,
devoted message
June 12, 2016
an M31 bus composition
Continue reading...
Robyn Dec 2012
Voiceless
My love for others is formed in desperation
I lose myself in the broken valleys of their eyes
Because I've lost you across a pit as wide as beauty
And as deep as jealousy
I fight to keep my independence
By depending on the abandoned and lonely
I'm so tired of you
But I've got no one else
Gloved hands stroke my hair
Yet they are mine
I've created a hand to hold in the winter of my desperation
And it's as cold as everything
I succumb to shameful acts of self fufillment
To protect my heart from the the anguish that awaits me in your arms
But do I know?
Can I know what truly waits in the shadow you cast?
In my desolation, not only did I lose hope
But hope lost me
In a dark world of unfulfilled expecations, their hues biting at me heels
I am lost in the invisible tragedy of the fall
I have succumbed to the despondency
And expect it to suffice
Replace what I refuse and fear to ask you for

Voiceless, I am begging you
Continue reading...
athena Sep 2018
emptiness and fufillment
feelings of heartbreak explained in a simple quad.

one ; shock
panic. youre being left behind. even if you saw it coming, you never expected it. this is when you cant seem to tell yourself to stop and breathe. choking on tears that havent fell from your eyes yet. frozen in time. you will remember this moment forever.

two; realization
despair. youve been left behind. you know that for sure now. you realize what has been done. this is what makes you collapse into your sheets. this time you choke on real tears. you scream and scream into your pillow. you will do this for weeks.

three; longing
aching. youve been left behind for a little while now. your heart still aches for someone who has started to forget about you. this is what makes you yearn for the love of a person who you dont speak to anymore in hopes of the pain subsiding for just a minute while you hear their voice. this is what makes you act out in hopes of gaining their attention just one more time. this time you choke on words left unsaid. i miss you will repeat incessantly in your head. you will do this for months.

four; healing
recovery. youve been left behind for months now,
but it doesnt really matter anymore. you will never forget, but youve accepted that. this is what makes you feel strong. this is what makes life feel fulfilled even though that person isnt in it anymore. this time you choke on the words you speak as you explain why you spent so much time trying to gain a persons attention who tossed you away like a sheet of paper. their name will no longer ring in your mind. you will do this for the rest of your life.
#heartbreak #healing #sad #sadness #love
Continue reading...
Danielle Rose Nov 2012
The True Key to Happiness
This reality is just a dream
in which one can change and reshape
the way they percieve
anytime they should choose

I've come to realize this

The error of my ways
I cant say sorry anymore
I can only hope you wait
for me
while I work on this

You bring this out of me
the thoughts that could change
everything
unfortunately we share the growing
pains

My dream is to find happiness
first on my own
and then with you
I cant rely on you for this

I should've never looked to you
in the first place for self fufillment
a childish outlook and expectance
I will not ask for forgiveness

Just stick around
and we'll get through this
I regret pushing you away...
I mustn't make the same mistakes
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jul 20
morning miracles
Relax, relief, Steve, a short one, I do believe,
is coming down the turnpike, a simple
thought kernel that occurs me to each
morning, and then gets swept out to
the sea, via the sound’s currents them,
a reality check on weather.com, an internet
a daily compilation of mispredictions,
guesses and disconnectedness to our
reality… that we yet must read first,
always & nonetheless…

so, here it is, a golden buttered kernel,
that flys past my poem seeking radar
so fast that, it has escaped for now
nearly sixteen years…

this spring chicken, lies besides his woman,
who wakes traditionally secondarily, and
she sleep best then, shedding the dreams that
come unwonted, the review and recap of life’s
tumult…and finally gets the deep sleep that
recharges our cells with restorative justice…

as she sleeps, her face sheds, a morning miracle,
deep at ease, she breathes soft, clean and clear,
silently and a m a z i n g l y, every line on her
face
eases,
disappears,
and her skin, smooth, tight,
and I’m face flushed, by guilt for never telling
her, and that guilt that has not been yet here
recorded, and yet…

a reminder that a first poem of the day (a FPOTD),
like morning ***, starts a human off right, clears
forehead, like smooth writing, fresh oven baked,
blue lines on paper, begging, asking for fufillment
and satisfaction, that has no competition, for it is,
unique, that the first deep breath of a day, when
you take in all that surrounds, and observe close
the minor miracles, all an addition, that gives our
body, the reasons to wake up, with wet eyes, and
just…
a thin, curly, half grin, hall (half+all✅) whimsy smile…

natty
6:34am
Sat Jul 20

(and this one flies out the window, past the oak trees,
to the water and the wind grabs by its lettered bones
and is sending it out to Iowa, Travese City Michigan,
Missouri, Oregon and the great  Northwest Pacific
over the Pacific, to the Philippines, India,  New Zealand, Israel, Europe, the UK as in You Know) and back past Lady Liberty in the New York Harbor, along the Long Island shoreline, to a little house on a little island, where it recenters my body, asking why oh why, no way, natty, have you not offered me
my first coffee of the day, (MFCOTD)
yet, all this traveling, loving and thinking is

so very tiring… java, por favor señor!)
Traditionally, Jews recite three blessings when they wake up:

Modeh Ani: A short prayer that expresses gratitude and thanks God for returning the soul to the body after sleep
Elohai Neshama: A blessing that thanks God for one's soul
Netilat Yadayim: A blessing that relates to washing hands, which is a symbolic way to remove spiritual impurity
#morning #miracles #natty #lipstiadt
Continue reading...
Amanda Kay Burke Oct 2018
Thank You Very Much
Sometimes lungs take air for granted
Same with skin, only sun
I suppose pain has turned me bitter
Still bleed though fighting is done.

Heal from the inside out
Help find myself buried deep in the ground
Life has lost significant meaning
My eyes not picking up beauty around.

Everyone waiting for me to return
To the former friend known before
What they don't realize is that girl
Does not live inside me anymore.

Back in summers of naive wonder
Woke up with a smile on my face
Not happy for more than an instant
That spark vanished, is tough to replace.

Taking day by day too hard
Wonder when things will change
Focused on gratitude every step of my journey
Yet happiness is always out of range.

Working myself to live a life
Impactful and without fear
Fufillment seems so far out of reach
With every "Thank you" becomes more near.
It is not happy people that are thankful it is thankful people who are happy
#life #gratitude #thankful #grateful #say #love #working #live #impact
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2023
Never write a poem in the…
11:06 AM Thu Feb 2

<>

early early morning

when the restless images of semi-sleep haunt, the hazy unknowns and wavy specters ****** you with wild abandon dancing verbs,
all eager to mislead, happy to pronounce distorted truths, seemingly
delicious but confusing familiars seem real, but they are…not

late late evening

when the day’s hours hang heavy round the neck,
the outlook is now the past-look, inevitable raising
words that start with the letter D, none good or delighting,
and looking back, reviewing, is too oft confused with previewing…

dinner time

when family gathers, interruptions frequent, and the
specific gravitas of concentration sinks beneath soapy
dish water, or is burnt in oven, or distractedly spilled and the
words burnt too, anger arrives as a question…when is my time?

early evening

the receding hubbub has numbed the desire, even the need,
flows are stillborn, and for every word composed, ten rejected,
disarray and dissatisfaction, despair, strangle the creativity and the
seductive drugged  non-thought of TV, dangerously addict-attracts…

when then?

always. as in everything. anytime. feast on the crashing all about,
source and savor life’s cacophony as purest inspiration gifted,
record, clasp and grasp the passing stanzas that flow from the tap,
quicken the mind, retain the veins of irony, whimsy & despair

for there is no time other than the time…

*when “it” already writ and needy only for the writing utensil, tablet,
blue-lined pad that presents, begging for fufillment, yours & its,
and you need only discharge the torrents of what went before,
the poem, and you, both fully formed and emptied and contained!
Continue reading...
Amanda Kay Burke Apr 2018
Stirring My Soul
Your stride stirs something in my soul
My eyes awed at the sight of your skin
Scent carries traces of battered trust
Tip-toeing hesitantly, settling in.

I took one look, was lovingly pulled
By the smooth mystery bursting in your touch
The careful aura surrounding your outline
Drew me into your spellbinding clutch.

Your many tattoos tell intricate stories
Flesh inked with past knowledge you keep
I find myself cravings answers to each one
The first time fufillment has reached deep.

The calm comfort of your simple smile
Warms my cold core, a sunny glow
Wild winds of distress slowly dissapate
Then reappear with a forceful flow.

Experiencing these things is not easy
All I had before were distant dreams
Never once had a drop of true love, now my heart
Is full of it, rupturing at the seams.
Sometimes i love you so much it feels like my heart it going to tear right open; unable to contain it all.
#love #emotions #boyfriend #soul #heart #dreams #cold #sunny #winds
Continue reading...
Joel Johny Jan 2018
Voiceless Thoughts
My thoughts do not speak
Nor do they have a voice of their own
The words are on my lips
but fall away like water beneath ships
Under a rug my emotions have been swept,
On many moonless nights i have wept
I succumb to shameful acts of self fufillment
Trapped In a dark world of unfulfilled expectations
Tell me ,What's the difference between morality and reality
Can one truly comprehend the teachings of society
Is it possible to abide laws and still be able to see
For in a faithless world, one longs to believe.
All my emotions are colliding as i write this..
my ideas have fallen through, my glass still half empty.

I look you in the eye ,believe me,I can hear you all sigh.
I know that you don't get me, i know that you don't see.
Maybe,I shouldn't speak,maybe you think I'm a freak.
There's so much I could voice, many things you should know
But each time the words begin to leave ,
My heart whisper's that I should go
There's so much I could share ,but is this really the place?
If only my thoughts could speak for itself..
They would echo across this hall
So lets just stop pretending, every moment is never ending...
my feelings are hidden, cast away from light,
without a voice to feed them , they recoil beyond my sight.
What happens under darkness shall come to light
Isnt it a little ironic,
Cause im standing here speaking about the unspoken..
Im leaving with my feelings unsaid..
As silence will echo my voiceless thoughts.
i wrote this for a slam poetry comp..
#speakwithoutavoice
Continue reading...
Cheyenne Macrides Jun 2021
success
success begins with self fufillment
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Sep 22
The Best Privilege
to have a human stir, letting awake
flood in, putting unasked long blonde
tresses leavings on your shoulder,
resting head upon the empty crevice
where your shoulder and arm dip,
requiring
filling,

to have a child read you to sleep, a partnership, and awake hours later
his hand cusping your chin, and that
sensation makes an old man go
knee weak
even forty five years
later

despite that the woman left you, claiming
a lack of fufillment?

and that child now a forty five year old man,
has excised you from his life, and doesn’t plan or attending a future funeral,

it is still your **best privilege
8:08am
sep 22  ‘24
#privilege #lipstadt #best
Continue reading...
Lesoko Mar 2019
Dethrone
Dethrone all that is shameful
Dethrone all that is sinful
Dethrone all things that are not of the One

Day and day we put something on our throne
We worship this being and praise it
We believe it brings us satisfaction, happiness and fufillment
But all we do is waste the short time we’ve been given

Dethrone

Stop putting up this thing and making it your king
Stop believing the lies it tells you; it's soft whisper of deceit

Dethrone

I can’t live like this anymore, I won’t live like this anymore
I won’t waste my time on things that keep me thirsty

Dethrone

See, there's one King
One being
One father who belongs on that throne
The one we should worship day and night
And continuously shout about his goodness and mercy
See this King is amazing he loves unconditionally

Yahweh the one
Let's put him on our throne
Continue reading...
Descovia Feb 2019
EARTH COLORS
Grateful I am, for the colors surrounding me!

I seize every moment running freely, prepared with fufillment, radiant from all that's alive, ready to indulge in an amazing day!

The endless elements composed of nature are

Vibrant, extraordinary, confounding in every imaginable profound way!

Standing tall like the mountains, absoring the invigorating rays of energy, from the humming of the EARTH.

Bestow your beauty and grace upon me

All that you have to offer

My wondering eyes

My loving heart

My building mind

Everything glows heavenly, in depth with brilliance and truthfully, it's an honor....

This world where one is never alone...

I will paint life into all. My heart is one with the sun

This is my home....
Continue reading...
Tyler Apr 2022
a gift in which i wish to give
i am insanely privileged
by my position,
by my status,
by my race,
but mostly
by my experience.

raising others
to their potential
fills me with the largest
sense of fufillment.
Continue reading...
Jonas Oct 2023
Question, once again
If the human race is a species
based on community for it's survival,
why are there mechanisms,
that make living together harder?

When mating and reproduction
is my basic,
animalistic task in life,
then why is there a feeling like embarrassment
or shame
that stops me,
freezes me in my tracks?
Preventing me from fufillment

If evolution is adaption to the enviroment
why is the system so inconvenient,
so complex and fragile, unintuitive
why am I so flawed?

Our survival measures can be as dangerous to us
as the threats they protect us from
Survival makes up most of our life
You either build up, maintain, protect or recover.
Happiness is not necessary part of that desgin,
desirable yet not crucial to the construct,
a mean to an end.

Why is there a build in conflict of interest
between my body and mind
so
me and myself?
What I need versus what I want?

What's the point
to all this complications,
to all this struggle?
My life is designed to end, sure
But then why make it so hard,
so easy to become miserable
and so hard to remain fulfilled?

Society is the logical answer to survivability
against nature.
But it's also feels like poison
Poison to my mind,
polution to my bones.
Continue reading...

— The End —