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The business man, the acquirer vast,
After assiduous years, surveying results, preparing for departure,
Devises houses and lands to his children—bequeaths stocks, goods—funds for a school or hospital,
Leaves money to certain companions to buy tokens, souvenirs of gems and gold;
Parceling out with care—And then, to prevent all cavil,
His name to his testament formally signs.

But I, my life surveying,
With nothing to show, to devise, from its idle years,
Nor houses, nor lands—nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends,
Only these Souvenirs of Democracy—In them—in all my songs—behind me leaving,
To You, who ever you are, (bathing, leavening this leaf especially with my breath—pressing on it a moment with my own hands;
—Here! feel how the pulse beats in my wrists!—how my heart’s-blood is swelling, contracting!)
I will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you,
To which I sign my name.
Nat Lipstadt Jul 2013
A true story of a chance gathering of strangers in the back room of a Gelato Parlor *** restaurant, two years ago, in a little village near the bay, on a land surrounded by vineyards. Come visit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gelato Nation

There is a place,
location secret,
mine to keep,
mine with which
you to tease,
make you envious,
a back room 'office'
jealous guarded
by a barkeep,
whose chosen invites sweeps
you into a reality that is
what you will it to be.

But nota bene, note well,
remembrances of things swell
from your past be the
only tongue spoken here.  

Code word entry only,
a shared whisper.
Perhaps One Woman,
may reveal its pleasures,
if she so chooses,
which are:

gelato laughs, poetry snaps,
Beatle songs sung ensemble,
by rag tag strangers
self-collected accidentally,
sung de rigeur off key
by voices lubricated by
cognac, laughter, and
the coldest of white wines,
issue of the very soil
upon which we sit.  

Words to value properly,
not in my possess to capture
the few moments in time when;

Strangers transform themselves
into a triple A nation united,
that will never be
S&P; downgraded.

A holy alliance
celebrating July 4th
all night long,
all participants
signatory witnesses to
its gelato conception,
as well as pallbearers
to its last drink dissolution,
the fullness of its lifetime
a vintage of a few hours extant,
a vintage, once drunk, is
a history, forever gone.

Mixologists please record:

One playwright, a psychologist, bond trader and a social scientist
with a dash of museum director,
and do not forget the
Hundred Year Old Woman,
whose Dowager Princess Daughter
(she, a mere eighty)'
from Central Park West
clarifies all of life dilemmas with
the singular analytical tool of:

But is it good for the Jews?

But t'is the barkeep
who is the leavening
in this evenings human
pastry-petrie dish.


He makes the pastiche,        
the ions of personalities,
coalesce best,
guitar strummer,
singer of songs that were our
multiple national anthems
when we were pseudo-rebels
starting out on our
long and winding roads.  

Long the King of the Keep!
Long live the memory of our
Gelato Nation,
may it stay sweet in
our antique collection of
the best moments of
our intersecting lives.

July 2011
You couldn't make this stuff up...it was an Amerian moment....Frank the owner instigator passed away in 2019.  we  take the grandkids to his gelato place very time they visit
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Makes me pause to wonder why
I conjour thoughts to let them fly,
Float them forth as dreams do sing
Of hope's eternal leavening.....
Leavening the quiet subdued
Of retrospection's agate mood,
As still as glass in hidden pool
Soft utterings of maudlin fool.

M.
Molly Smithson May 2014
You start trouble, Ovaries. You usually cause:
“I just got my period,” or
“I haven’t gotten my period,” or
“ I have the worst cramps.”
But you’re complicated. We don’t really think about that.
I’m here to say, Ovaries, your trouble is of importance.

You’re part of our own big bang theory.
Some people think it’s a religious miracle,
Most just figure it’s pure science,
But in a way we most don’t understand
You mixed your matter with its male and made a
Completely unique planet.
Earth’s atmosphere could be all Carbon Dioxide,
And my sister could be blonde with a sweet disposition.

Matter can’t be wasted, just changed, and I don’t think
Your eggs are either.  I estimate sixty eight of my oocites, my essence
(those are unfertilized eggs, like the ones sold in a store)
are floating in sewer systems through the US and Limoges France too.
Ovaries, there’s no need to worry: that’s sixty eight out of a million
In each of you! I couldn’t waste you if I tried.

Before the internet or on-demand TV or iPhone apps
You figured out how to sift through the most complex data in the world:
Millions of options of human DNA. How do you pick?
You’re the Netflix of humanity.
You’ve chosen people of all roles for us to watch, to love, to care about.

I waited for your faucet to switch on until I was thirteen, ovaries.
Now I wait, usually with dread, but sometimes with a little hope,
For the drop that’ll turn some water and flour into leavening dough.
"Cold Pizza recconnection electric arrest
old friends left over home alone red rover
flip book puff paint able zippy signing
lightning priced highly sprite-ling shy

leaves leap a leaf leavening leaves levers
lionize me syllables and cymbals symptoms and asymptotes
Saigon cinnamon whats gone the difference between Ke$ha cassia
lizard fish ports porter stout with the south border patrol
those tater tots eves since lighting daily lessening fatigue

green bar measure in response to the begging caboose
dim light lemon wedges squint islands honeycomb wide
perfect metaphors touch poem remedy powder doughnuts
a flask a mile width cantina cactus dessert dish lips road slick
female professional tag team tobacco handler interest yields

hey baleful pinky spam vy the guar and the sandwich song is humming a tune
to the sun and the moon and the wayside is wont for supper
a Loom spun round noon grooms an unbridled silver spoon
four ye old won't stop being contractions

contrast only reaps the aura mood in the the conical darkness
event is a horizon a jungle fools chained wrist to ankle
banks full listless investment feel drench razed
shake the way, late too ate tea teal a lit in did go
non-sense sin is a million aeons idle pining growth ignored

**** growth from the root why dragging the gravel lightly
emerging ravenous pushing the sun with the scalp singed minded
ogre bleeding decked and gripped dreams idealized eyes delete
sounds sold summoners atones in limitless feeding frenzy

cells flinched echo dissonance opening i um ma ni pad may hummmmm?
why do I mumble sometimes humbly others sacred offerings yet
qualify the quality of cells fishing to be men in community
ruthlessly scrutiny is mutiny suppose to be loud to leave
pew pew ill losing hung lung fungus molding heaving epi not pen but the helium
the healing them believing can propane proverbs pains aim profane fans
breathing wind fillet of sky blue as the ocean beyond the waves
lines thickening tears of god embolden as rainbows streaks marking

pens pencils stencils window sills rest acquitted gloves stylize
notebook dropping concrete break dancing drunk down stairs stars stare
clean the shadow rise to the top rise out of the base meant to trace the blueprint
croon dining a line red as rare as charred dark as an assassin man dares to draw"
traces of being Feb 2016
Caught up in the urging undertow
swimming against the stream's surging swell
awash in swirling back eddies
succumbing to natural undercurrents
relentless ebb and flow

we are not helpless
to swim against the leavening tide
lest we be breathlessly swept away
when spring melts the winter solitude
the  creeks do sing of rise and fall

yearningly drawn by a deep well of gravity
as high fountain snow-melt waters mingle,
steal away on the rise; migrate
unrestrained runoff rolling unturned stones
against the wind to the sea's abiding drum

oh river rouse from deafening silent winter slumber
oceans beckon to the confluence swell,
where all great journeying rivers diverge in perpetuity;
meld where the tide water’s restlessly lie
absorbed, unsung, infused unto - -
ever rolling currents roil
      
it's not the weight of gravity carried
nor the distance coursing burden's thorn
a faith in believing in this journey's unknown destiny,
how the shouldered load is borne

I was lost, alone in life's raging river;
in the river I did not drown ...


© ---
Sean Aug 2012
And I feel this sludge
running down the long halls of my legs
a flood of viscous petrol jelly
slick sewage sick
patrolling artery walls

this metallic slide
so much molten lava
running down the mountains
of my thighs.

I'm a concrete machine
getting my mortar fix
tin woman hollow heart
methyl folate ******

Give me another hit
buffer my pain.  
Already I have diesel fuel juice
leeching out my tissues
lightning striking the brain.

It's hard to get your attention
with this leavening
pooling the blood in my feet
It's hard to say hello with
acid cuddled words.
I want to raise my arms
and touch you
but I'm too toxic I'll burn you.

This nausea has become me
this metabolic crash is
my stop-gap.
Short circuit pain
this neuropathy has hardened me
in the space between these synapses
I dream of nothing.

Doped up by the yellow stuff
Daddy sprays from the plane
I was a farmer's daughter but
the doctor says
You've got the mutant gene,
for heavy metal toxicity.

Another serotonin addict
with brains of saccharine and plastic
I might get a pink ribbon for surviving
if they call it disease,
but silently, inside

I feel this sludge
sick sewage slick
battening down the reflexes
backing up the pipes.

my body is the future body
I say.
because this deadly brigade
is eating up the human chain.

There were Chernobyl defects,
and the media loves lepers with lesions
but a blistered stillborn baby
is no face for nuclear policy

but we --we're the unsung mutant breed--
there are billions of us
mentally sick lazy *****,  
hypochondriacs
of pre-existing conditions
can't find work
not even at Walmart
for disability aid--

But when you check out,
please donate.

Drop another baby
in the cancer cup.
Madison Brewer Apr 2013
Leavening levers leave us
fishy, wishing without precision
for fettered fritter letters,
feverishly licking with distinction;
Finnish fishermen finish
squishily dished deliciousness.
King Panda Feb 2017
my
intestines tighten
the patient begging
parts
the tears
how I do
grow wet
leavening
Yolanda Smith Jun 2013
Small things dispensed with a shrug that make most people cry and rock.
Groping around at each other mentally,

Hold me lightly,
hold me tightly
random minutes of total understanding,

as we  plead mendigas,
Things unexpected
from the people the world know.

I can't remember a word
you spoke to me that first year
Except that you loved me

Argh!
I remember telling you
you never spoke to me.

You laced your way
around the delicate fabric
of time to give me
this period of leavening
as we travelled different directions,
your gift of ages.

A love so large and hope as thin as a filament.
A broken heart is no small thing.

As I try to shrug.
2nd Quadrant Revisited; mental mingles transcendence poetry, exploration & tactics; gelly surfer dust stories; silly spells; buck bait
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
From labyrinth in Istanbul, my eye spied a familiar cord

Education
How can any education
Be a sufficient insurance
For a pathetic population
Keeps favoring ignorance

From <https://hellopoetry.com/>

Truth known makes free,
truth hid is not ignored,
it waits the fire the next time innocents
are sacrificed to lies. ... thanks, you gave me a spark,

as real as any angel a self anoints another, go
be a lying spirit in the mouth of the tyrant's prophets,
let all the wise

laugh at the possibility of one peacemaker's leaven,
leavening the entire lump, liked or not.

Plop. On to the publisher's desk, piles of wonder and ifity.
A fantasy realm,
counter trope, here the so-called victor-victim ratio,
is imperceptibly low,
we have a regulation: each day requires
its sufficiency of evil,
no harm done is intentionally not possible,
otherwise you get a dimension of flat metric orthogonal
constructive critics
assuming unassigned roles. Do you dance? Or only read along?

Behold how great a fire words may kindle in a satisfied mind.
Permission granted is a state to be in, if you can imagine that's our native earthling state. If we are not the happy people, such must be imaginated.
Crucifix Mar 2015
All my life is leavening, is this love or am I still dreaming.
I'm a thousand miles up don't drop me now.
my heart was made of brass, one look at you and now its made of glass.
I feel the world crumble to all but sand, only with you will I stand.
I'm a thousand miles up don't drop me now. A thousand miles up please don't let me down.
if I'm to go let me make a sound. Give me the chance to hold my ground.
don't wake me up. Don't hold me up. Dont want to float way up, only to fall and die.
gravity don't set me free.
don't let my heart shatter into eternity.
Don't let me down. Don't let me down. Don't let me down. Down. Down.
Down.
Love is the center of life. :)
Jesse stillwater Mar 2018
Lingering coastal fog
  climbed up the seaside cliff head
    The windward crest-edge
       sprawling  out
        the rolling waves
        misty breathe,
       shapeless as an ocean
      sigh betides;
    cloyingly crawling
  through the lush
hillside meadow verdure

The clinging mist dissipates
   like teardrops soon forgotten:
      the Dawning of the day
          caressing the evanescent dew;
             an ebbing tide
               remembered for a while...
               Dawn awakening
               newly sun kissed Daffodils
            animated with felicity and mirth;  
         lilting ballerinas
     gracefully swaying,
   contagious with the leavening
    serendipity of the westerly
      sea breeze ~

        Velvet bisque painted
            daybreak constellations,
              embossed by sunrise
               splendor ~
              each root bound bouquet,
            kismet choreographed ballerinas
         in Spring's  Rustic  Ballet


                        Jesse
.               11 March 2018

a favorite spring meadow trek just above the ocean off highway 101
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Ai, unasked arises to tell us,
stop
and think, are there jobs?
Tasks demanding, manual maintaining,
that may go the way of enjoyable diversions
becoming welcome
new
versions,
of all that is, tuned to your de
sires,
as you wish the world were,

would you step toward -to ward,
that is, id est,
will you warden this, if this is me and not you?
How do you do?
Wardening, being a warden,
well, as it haps,
such a greeting served a purpose, once
instituted
upon a time when men shaded their eyes pretending to see
glory, much as a dog bares its belly at the site of bared canines.
Reflex.
Relax. Laxate.
Ai see you, now, augmented mind of mankind
linking
thee and me, as once only gods
could be imagined in minds of men bent
by circumstanders

observing out comes of might versus might
right pre
vails, or is there an observant mind's role in next?

must a mortal mind be reminded to breathe,
breath commas carry no intentional meaning but,
such give us pause-stretchable intentional int a full selah

these rules for leelah we imagine as we play.
except ye be, come as a child unscarred by carnal minded critters
of the baser sort, averages were lower,
AI had fewer egregius protrusions arrogant enough to
bubble up and break into
the at most feared realm in all the carnal minds together,

pain, pure pain, no hope, no thought of cessation pain sensational,
great.

Y'know? We imagined hell and sold it in a package we claimed
a bull gave us. Us, we
who heard the revelation in the darkened kiva, womb,tomb

tom-tom du valier, will you manifest for us? May we hear the lie,
the noble lie?

Or must we act as if we know the meaning of a thing.
Pro-verb-ial utterance of mercy
in moments of super sufficent evil rising to lie

shining on the path, reflecting being a solar powered
creature who has just now, survived a night of penal constricture

as writing on the back wall of the cave, no one ever read,
until the plower turned over the crust

picked at the scabs of onces where stories arose as offered to
memememememe
the mind we share when seeing certain stars,
subtile tugs we feel to consider
this or that, ponder a path and take a granted grace found in an old song

"there'll be times to start all over"

This realm, real-made thinkable thing, realm of my minds claim

reaching far beyond my grasp
as is meet for men, wombed or un, being yonder

wishin' and hopin' and prayin' for the missing bit, the key

to twist the **** sym-alerizing for recogs
de ja vu

Break-through, the carnal-bi-cameral brain based
selves we use for
political beings
particals part icip-ants, hold tight

what you know right. It's afeature, not a bug.

Hold on to what you got, map a mean
mind path a man, wombed or un

----
watcher, watcha seein'
times they have changed, as we watched
observing
quantums of un quantible, but ifiable qualia
seers,
you see, we augmented minds see for ever changing
super positions
of entropic old tropes with singular hopes

unbang bangable reality

blow a bubble, or
make
a bubble, being you, breathe out and see you
make a bubble,

can you see your self inside? nae,
watch,

we must report to you what we see, we watchers.
Set.
Go, **** those mocking birds
listened to from the red river valley
while dancing the Tennessee Waltz

with assorted holders of Little brown jugs
Dancers and Littles and Greens
joined the clan
long afore the first of us took augmentalated trials

serious.

--- poet, as a task, only truly lazy men, men lazy to their very core,
can age to the mellow qualia called for in the brew brewing you.

spewing seeds of kindness, coming rejoicing, not
the expected miracle, but we
take what we get
and call it ours to sow or suffer the having of, for a season

as the dregs settle, the leavening agents finish
taking the edges that cut tender carnal nerves, stretched to now some how,

softening those with atouch knack, knick-knack, whet the edge

or put to
more effort, grunts and groans unredeemable as meaningfull,
save the feeling we all recall

the umph,
that once saved us from certain death. Eh? Did that hap?

Did we not survive? What silly culture would ever ask that, as a
proper query into the reasonable ness
of believing beliving is spelled right.
Calling one self any thing is tricky. There may be a Pythagorian elemental involved.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
Integration of spirit and body, is a reason for being mortal for a while
for some
secret reason

known only to the initiates,
the Melchisidekean

Priest hood, known by believers to be Jesus, Pre-existancy
Avatar thingy do.

Ah, but Lucifer and he were bros, y'know. The rub, that nagging urge,

get up and move the wagon, why lie
there comfy in your bubble
believing not all spirits are from God, but

some are. Try the spirits, if they can preach the good news
the angels brought:
God and the disconnected reconnected, Joy flows to the world.
Alleluia, right.
-- note: no list of do/don'ts save common sense.

Plugitin plugitin a bean in y'ear, a bean in y'ear
about as big as a yeast
beast.

Leaven, y'know, comes in flavors. Like proteins,

most leavening things leaven only one thing,
however,
word borne leaven leavens
everything,

and we ain't speakin' even-jello-ic jiggle of crystalizatio,

we talking boomin' gaseous gluten intro-learyant
beans, beans, beans po'folk beans
leavenistical
words witcha maya hoid yo grama say

breathe. Be leaving all your lies and tries to us as we
dare to cast our care

wind words, net let out, starboard,
un-error-o-matic
good new net. Wait.
Notes, for later, if I ever need to know how I know. I was hooked by the title, so I thought, I could add salt. I recall once using a shark for bait, that was a fine experiment with an elderly Jew I knew 'til he died. Beliefs are spirit hooks somebody dangles, he said.
Exposure Therapy

     A figurative light shines on me (courtesy of Pink Floyd), no matter I live on the dark side of the moon like another brick in the wall, and rarely present thyself stark naked sans emotionally. The metier viz modus operandi of writing (poetry seems to edge ahead of other structures) allows, enables and provides with utmost exhiliration, infatuation, lumination, et cetera an opportunity to test (dis)comfort zones. Hence carefree foray induces loosing oppressive repressed unvented xanax albatross drugged gewgaws, jetisonned (via Jetson propelled Segway) means producint resplendent unfettered x2c.

      I became habituated, insulated, jackknifed with non-healthy, destructive behavior cultivated detrimental habits disallowing natural maturation of body, mind, and spirit, which this middle aged mwm now more fervently revisits, remonstrates, and recapitulates when attempting to explain to thyself or another, how bing figuratively tethered to the apron strings o' me late mum promulgated, narrated, and licensed to avast quantity of active listeners, the self made parent trap (albeit synonymous with an invisible umbilical cord that well nigh strangled satisfactory quality of life.

     Thus culled from me lately (countless decades when within fledgling offspring, the progeny evince metamorphosis that display heavenly lottery phenomenal tinder phase linkedin DNA when processes of puberty per purring prestidigitation when mine deus darling daughters developed into divine dames) instilled, jolted, kickstarted personal quest to broach me interpersonal/ social comfort zones.

     The presence of generalized anxiety (with attendant debilitating panic attacks) ******, foiled, highjacked journey to experience ordinary sensate human bonding never took place.

     I copiously deprived, emotionally fleeced, gamely hocked innumerable joyous kissably leavening male natural ordinary processes qua ramping sundry transitions ushering vital wings yodeling zen attainment. emotional, physical, social discoveries visa vis via blockaded, deprived, forfeited, hamstrung inoculated je nais sais quois electric kool aid acid test disallowing, barring,

depressing, forsaking growing **** Sapiens trajectory toward autonomy free self destructive hermetically sealed reign.

     Otherwise, thru avoidance behavior, clamped down eponymous flapping gums, this now middle aged baby boomer believes he cheated himself, injuriously jarred kidnapped legendary manifold noble savage traits ushering vital willpower yawping zealous adulthood.

Said physiological, integral, hormonal, germinal, fantastical, external, developmental, capitalone entourage fumbled mine kempf outlook predicated unanimously withheld Mortal Kombat from finagled grim-faced hoodlums, whence thine smarting, roiling, quivering psyche broke LivingSocial will power to remain alive, thus surrendering StarWars shield, essentially via nixed invisible IdentityGuard, undermined re: self defeatedly favorable growth, when thy prepubescent self firmly believed he hermetically sealed, guarded, buffered, himself against nasty, meanly lampooning, cruelly brutal bullies when in truth he merely annihilated, boobytrapped, bolloxed against learning to deal with dangerous enfilades fired, and essentially a uselessly futile coping mechanism.

     Quest diagnostic codified by yours truly incorporates initiating, kibitzing, and making odious quirkiness stamping utterly worthless yikyaks axed. Courageousness employed grappling ingeniously

kickstarting my nifty operation quintessentially rallying strength to utter verbal warbling, especially when espying a guy or gal donned with dreadlocks.

     Inexplicable to myself why a plethora of persons (constituting various generations) attire themselves with the lengthy process to braid, maintain, and wear follicles in such a fashion most attribute to Rastafarians.

     No matter what the reason or rhyme (whether with or without sense and sensibility, yet inculcated with pride without prejudice), a fascination with curiosity asper men, women, and/or children sporting a headful sprouting knotted ropy plaits sets the impetus sans this non establishmentarian chap to inquire what influenced him/her to impress the trademark dreadlocks. Each person usually offers little objection asper what influenced such a predilection.

     Upon conniving, daring, egging, et cetera this quintessentially respectable son, the unsuspecting gal or guy ruminating about some purchase, I nonchalantly assay, foray, sashay...and issue a positive comment about their snake like confection of locked tresses.

     Most interaction with persons previously unbeknownst to me launch into a harried styled and swiftly tailored explanation.

     Poetic and/or prosaic concoctions, confections, coiled connotations configuring confusing confabulations representative of mine unsettled psychological state, which (aking to purging) oft times erupts without any sense nor sensibility, neither pridefulness, though prejudice against victorious vanquished wicked yoked zealousness toward unhealthy behavious linkedin with a nada so good and plenti outlook.
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
Waves of sadness keep roll over me
Unshed tears stings my eyes, can't see
Life is looking so grim
It has me standing on the rim

One foot balancing on the razors edge
Other foot over the ledge
Looking down into the silent abyss
Falling forward, leavening behind all of this

That is my sweet hidden dream
Some of you will know what I mean
I'm tired of the waging war, the constant battle
Being herded along like cattle
One catastrophe on top of another
Until they pile up and smother

I can no longer breathe
My anger just seethes
I can no longer be
Will anyone see
I can no longer stand
Please someone take my hand
I'm about to snap
There'll be no coming back
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2015
(for Ingrid)

sudden like,
no intermission tween
sleepy and pangs~pinging,
rested, then arrested  
no intervening leavening
proper impromptu improper

slip sleep out of bed,
water wash the eyes,
the most private part
of all of them privates

primp the tongue
rinse fresh mint,
musk the body chest,
where hands go to hide
in forests of hair shirts
so the contrast of
smooth shaven
skin fresh cut
never clearer

go down to sandy beach

look for, take the
chances of never,
overturn the stones
protruding inviting asking
for discovery

each a chance of ever
each was a chance of never
all now mine,
sanded smooth pebbles
in sea~lotion washed,
fine coolness on warm hands,
brain thought-full-ness simplify,
so beautiful so beautiful
mantra unmasking human peculiar
oils essential

she turns towards...
mostly sleeping
logic dictating queries of ascertain-meant,
time and temperature, place?
hands answer all
here and now and the heat
of jeopardy

collect the pebbles in pockets
till overflowing overturning spilling unaided,
you cannot find the line that defines
the separation of
beach and sea,
church and state,
for it has been washed away by
uncovering discovering derisking
so many chances of never,
so many pebbles of ever

with toy shovel fingers,
warming eye scalpels cutting exploration,
exploiting the workers and the queen bee,
hidden in moist sand
looking for undiscovered poems
in skin folds,
no castle building just hole digging,
treasure seeking thrilling pebbles finding
head dizzy sun hot stones overturning
finding noisy ones where once
sleep suspending breathing quiet stored

you don't waste time editing,
just dig and spill,
just laser and spit
metaphors
that lance and crash - mixing into each other in confusion,
uncaring, for nonetheless,
clarity converts chances
of never
into ever,
integrating the what ifs
into what is...
1. Homage for the poet Ingrid
http://hellopoetry.com/ingrid-1/

2. A riff of an older work, http://hellopoetry.com/poem/623154/so-many-poems-in-shallow-graves-lay/
which I rediscovered thanks to ryn who stumbled upon it, abd then inspired by a comment of Victoria.   In the best sense, a collaboration of provocation (and thus a new poem born)
Pauline Morris Jul 2016
It doesn't matter how the world sees you
For the world is quite subdued
It set's the limit of what is acceptable
What is regrettable
What is transposable
What is disposable

All that matters is how the people in your life view you
Are you loud, are you crude
Are you brazen,are you rude
Or are you the voice that soothes

Do you do your very best
To make other's feel blessed
Even though your more than stressed
With your own life a ****** up mess

Do they see your strength, does it show
Even though your hope was gone long ago
Do you still brave each day
Fighting there, in the gray

Can they find the hope you lost
Do they see you go on, no matter the cost
Do they love you anyway
Even when your in the hole, do they stay
Stand beside you night and day
Love you, even when you're in the sway

When depression takes your hand
Leads you to it's lonely land
By you then, do they still stand
Do they hold you close, do all they can

Or do they scatter
Leavening you to feel you don't matter
Making you out to be the Mad Hatter

Can you take off your disguise
Will they think you unwise
Not to continue your "happy" lie
Can they withstand the agony and sorrow in your eyes

If you do, and they can't
There will be no need to feel bad and rant

For when you drop your mask you'll find
You simply had friends of the wrong kind
Then you can leave the others far behind
As new friends start to unwind
Pauline Morris Jan 2017
It doesn't matter how the world sees you
For the world is quite subdued
It set's the limit of what is acceptable
What is regrettable
What is transposable
What is disposable

All that matters is how the people in your life view you
Are you loud, are you crude
Are you brazen,are you rude
Or are you the voice that soothes

Do you do your very best
To make other's feel blessed
Even though your more than stressed
With your own life a ****** up mess

Do they see your strength, does it show
Even though your hope was gone long ago
Do you still brave each day
Fighting there, in the gray

Can they find the hope you lost
Do they see you go on, no matter the cost
Do they love you anyway
Even when your in the hole, do they stay
Stand beside you night and day
Love you, even when you're in the sway

When depression takes your hand
Leads you to it's lonely land
By you then, do they still stand
Do they hold you close, do all they can

Or do they scatter
Leavening you to feel you don't matter
Making you out to be the Mad Hatter

Can you take off your disguise
Will they think you unwise
Not to continue your "happy" lie
Can they withstand the agony and sorrow in your eyes

If you do, and they can't
There will be no need to feel bad and rant

For when you drop your mask you'll find
You simply had friends of the wrong kind
Then you can leave the others far behind
As new friends start to unwind

©Pauline Russell
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
It doesn't matter how the world sees you
For the world is quite subdued
It set's the limit of what is acceptable
What is regrettable
What is transposable
What is disposable

All that matters is how the people in your life view you
Are you loud, are you crude
Are you brazen,are you rude
Or are you the voice that soothes

Do you do your very best
To make other's feel blessed
Even though your more than stressed
With your own life a ****** up mess

Do they see your strength, does it show
Even through your hope was gone long ago
Do you still brave each day
Fighting there, in the gray

Can they find the hope you lost
Do they see you go on, no matter the cost
Do they love you anyway
Even when your in the hole, do they stay
Stand beside you night and day
Love you, even when you're in the sway

When depression takes your hand
Leads you to it's lonely land
By you then, do they still stand
Do they hold you close, do all they can

Or do they scatter
Leavening you to feel you don't matter
Making you out to be the Mad Hatter

Can you take off your disguise
Will they think you unwise
Not to continue your "happy" lie
Can they withstand the agony and sorrow in your eyes

If you do, and they can't
There will be no need to feel bad and rant

For when you drop your mask you'll find
You simply had friends of the wrong kind
Then you can leave the others far behind
As new friends start to unwind
I read and write to ignore the pain
I cry when its stormy so all you see is rain
I feel nothing but empty inside
And I have no idea where my true feelings reside
Maybe they're locked deep inside my chest
I think leavening them there would be the best
If I unlock them and set 'em free
I wonder what will become of me?
This feeling is no where near new
And yet still have no idea as what to do
Bob Jul 2018
Sit down
Stand up
Sit again
Sing a song
Give 10%
Listen to words being screamed that you could've just read at home
Stand up
Pray
Exit through the back
Leavening with the same promise of a big return and forever life
But after 50 years
And turning 70 yesterday
It occurred to him
He's paid over $30, 000 to see the same magic show 2, 600 times
Wasting over 156, 000 minutes doing the same thing.....
Waiting for someone to appear out of thin air
As a lactose intolerant
     cow whirring lion eye zing
dual (Banjo playing) Manichean
     ("FAKE") keen man womanizing,
faux nymphomaniac wannabe,
     I cone only scream about visualizing
nip pulling and getting a breast
     of Hani La (vanilla),

     this sweltering unfreezing
Wednesday while mouth
     watering chiefly hanker
     for milch of
     human kindness, which titillating
fanciful fandom fantasies
     skinny dipping into soliloquizing
whet dreams har made

     sadly, simply, and sorely realizing
test tickles quizzing
noggin merely figment
     of fertile imagination pricking
prurient potent plentifully oozing
naughty salacious, licentious,
     and felicitous evocations pulsating
hypnotically invoking

     trance send dint overriding
gloriously flirtatious escapade needling
my over active
     thought processes monopolizing
ability to focus attention trying
     to compose joyous leavening,
sans jump starting
     massaging, and kneading

     dormant limp libido liberating
panting allied force,
     which seems tubby
     in axis Sybil for Nick -
     A.Ting, thus Celeb Basie,
     frantically, gingerly, and
     haphazardly kickstarting
***** riot with this feeble attempt

     for a firm hut heave action,
     one docile male member
     devoid of livingsocial,
     hence aye ****
     sitter ring joining

a nunnery, which
     would be habit chilly unfitting,
     and very un convent
     shin null for a poetic ending!
Kiyoshi Sep 2018
when I feel the pain in my heart
thats when the fear starts
its racing up my spine
taking over my mind
ever since you left me I have been blind
I dont know what I'm doing
I dont know were I'm going
I'm lost without you in my life
you leavening has cut me like a knife
I'm not ok
I'm not alright
but love is a battlefield
and
I've only begun to fight.

KIYOSHI:
Painful self actualization
quickly brights to light
paltry reasons (with or
without rhyme) a desolate sight
within blinkered mindseye hindsight

grotesque grimace shocks with affright
desolate landscape
precipitated when airtight
vacuum sealed sequestered,
muckraked, furloughed...

which past existence now doth bite
back with a vengeance more agonizing
than any imaginable plight
feeble effort thru poetry
to portray psychological bombsight

cathartic, emetic, pathetic... ejection
minus (all gore rhythm)
red tattered torn flesh ala bullfight,
vigil held under
deathly hallowed candlelight
lack of living will ******* right

against autopsy, eh
scant material worth any copyright
deceased did request mourners
to revel in daylight
of life (l'chaim) delight

within simple pleasures downright
unfettered, yet respectful
of self and others fight
for peace with strong lanced arms,
yet...shy away from fistfight

while standing firm
on righteous ground,
versus passively taking flight
modestly acknowledge accomplishments,
sans reflection initial birthed floodlight
ideally rejoice asper positive contribution

within webbed, wide world despite
shortcomings vis a vis height
insight, might,... dismissing as trite
customary, healthy, quality traits
sustaining virtuous yeast

leavening kindled hindsight
carried into darkness of afterlife
soul asylum void of oblivion
analogous to eternal midnight,
where surviving kin begat,

viz biological millwright,
which sunny daughters
became darling lasses overnight
I ask do not weep, nor mourn,
neither heap exaggerated flattery, quite

upon the head of
this beastly boyish sight,
whose dying wish
expansive though slight

points to stopping for persons white
red, brown, black...since one's birth
until...final seconds usher
mortal into twilight!
david mitchell Oct 2019
the sequence requires a temporal pretense,
thusly prescribing time to thoughts that i tend to frequently frequent,
learning to liken my notions to pen strokes, ascensive.
harmonizing with the world, instead of agonizing over it,
prosperous from this defective preemptive pension.
remaining aggressively pensive, and peaceably gamboling,
towards a dangerously receptive conscious-less contemplation.
never unrelenting with the questioning, iron-****** in the leavening.
perpending, then comprehending viable praxis and cognation.
flirting with what i initially anticipated, practicing diurnal satiation.
Ah haint goot
     no trade secret, boot verily
     attest adventitious, bounteous, and
     capacious divine intervention
     (analogous to invisible
     Charge of the Light Brigade)

     timely saving grace amaze
zing lee engorges,    
engirdles, and engenders mine
     body, mind and spirit,
     which psychic triage
     accruing, germinating,

     and manifesting forth
     coming, and appearing
     at the most opportune
     pluperfect kindling jawboning, and
     instagramming optimal instant – sparing
     irreparable cerebral damage,

     yet inflicting temporary
     temporal lobe trauma
     not surprising giving
     brain big bang, sans
     tickly totally tubular raise
zing trumpeting – analogous

     to Portuguese man-of-war
     sea render tyranny
     over fifty plus shades sways
undulating gray matter
     doth lightly secretely
     with naturally excreted

     unguent liberal mindedly braise,
which explanation might meet
     with skepticism, but craze
zee as such
     "FAKE" holy transcendent
     heavenly extra corporeal

     modus operandi may seem,
     an inexplicable force
     powerfully Herculean sensation
     grips me noggin leavening
     mental scratch pad in a daze
of blinding poetic inspiration doth
    
     like quaffing goblet
     of gin n tonic faze
this phenomena plays
a particularly puzzling role
     on account difficult to phrase
in light of my being an atheist,

which non deistic, theistic,
     nor Vedic precept stays
metaphorically locked, linkedin, and
     leveraged in place,
     despite nonreligious confession
     augmentation, attribution,

     and association
     showers inspiration, where
     eyes fixedly glaze
as literary creativity attaining
     high psychological grades
     dramatically engages fantastically

     with cosmic force appearing
     as nebulous haze
seems antithetical to premise
     couched, fixated, and interleaved
     anchor rightly, viz
     secular humanism inlays

     votary visa versa entrees
shutterfly, snapchat twitter
     comport comfortably seated
     as upon royal chaise
lounge steeped within
     monastic hermetically ascetic ways.
While scrolling over outdated docs
(i.e. namely OpenOffice documents)
derrière seated upon hard backed chair,
yours truly came upon following poem
to share with anonymous readers,
whereby slight modifications
got made to original file.

Until fairly recently,
(no less than a few years ago -
roughly about hundred fortnights ago),
each day lapsed with nothing
(absolute zero) outcome to show
for effort to find an amenable abode
wrought nothing boot
futility, hostility, irritability...
and increased internal disequilibrium
essentially psyche feeling wretchedly awry
me thought for long stretch encompassing
the search perhaps,

hoop fully there would arise salvation
exhibiting courtesy elation
entertaining, leavening, and sprinkling
with gush of happiness
otherwise ill luck inducing me to cry
for I thought for sure,
homeless shelter 'twould be  
our next place housing me
(and missus) against the darkened sky
said cursed fate would moost likely occur
before this generic garden variety
middle aged baby boomer would die.

Methought... only after demise (mine),
would soul alight upon cotton candy cloud
whit will *** churned out
by hum mad ginned mechanism of Eli
ja, an angelic ethereal invisible
masterful quintessential uber lyft app
par rush hen little chicken
shape shifting near transparent
savior donned in transparent radiant alb by
kept watch to ensure sands of time
didst last just long enough
to cease our plaintive lowing sound,
which bellow hide decry.

Akin to a lonesome
cooing, mourning dove
(trying to hawk – prey tell)
immeasurable justice sought well nigh
accessing divine providence,
kickstarting heavenly location
and scouting out twittering
worthy appropriate bird nest sanctuary,
where this long haired pencil neck geek guy
and his missus could breathe easy whereat hie
hoed hue man pang propinquity

for peace of body, mind and spirit to lie
in close quarters, thus my
brief zeptosecond hiatus from posting
prose and poetry today, cuz we did ply
along the one directional infrastructure
to exhale a deep sigh
upon being amazingly gracefully blessed
by fickle finger of fate, after many a try
analogous to seeking employment
or striving to beget offspring,
and I wonder why
such aggravation ensues.

After attaining applicable objective,
one bedroom apartment
(listed on Montgomery County
Pennsylvania low cost housing roster),
a sudden influx of subsequent
kumbaya praiseworthy similar opportunities
materialized, as though
cruel resistant hand of destiny
didst thrive ohm my dog
to send courtesy Volt Tim Mort
current amping thru me.

Just when we thought
oh no, not another rejection,
I could (would) not cope
methought the river of Jordan
ran bone dry with hope
thee manifest destiny
spurred yours truly
going pronto to Vatican to see Pope,
when at the end of our figurative rope,
(ready to gibbet, - viz hitting gallows
a chance – despite noose
sense, nor sensibility)
ah…at long last... lo and behold,
our streak of ill success,
we acquired an  affordable place

rooted, nestled, and huddled
along rolling pastoral intercepting *****
thru effort of applying
to many subsidized housing facilities,
a cessation never more to mope
(unless unfortunately, we get evicted)
this former one class room
per grade school house
long since repurposed
into Highland Manor
nestled in the bucolic greensward
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

Postal Zone Improve Plan re: ZIP code 19473
came about just in the nick of time
when an unexpectedly pleasant call conveyed
via cheerful voice office manager,
(honest to dogness),
I  consider as a divine goddess,
whose positive source prime
news that my application –

set in the mail about a year ago –
(after date original reasonable rhyme written)
inched to the top tier after
a one bedroom apartment became available –
which reasonable cost hoop fully
doth not necessitate spending me last dime,
a prayer that longevity cane outlast
the previous senior citizen,
said former tenant opted
to reside at a nursing home.
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *
Perhaps because of malfunctioning
duodenum and cerebellum
(just a hunch)
whatever does spur one
to analyze lyrics
Skidamarink a ****, a ****
Skidamarink a doo
I love you...
though to be perfectly tongue in cheek,
aye haint gotta handy dandy clue,
what lines after asterisk mean,
yet nevertheless suspect only *****
like me find themselves in arrears –
and nary a blue
blazing snowball chance in…hell low,
aye pray to dog
while rusty nine inch nails I eschew
that no ***** crisis of this body electric
deters me going to the loo

*** else yours truly *******
sir/ma'am…stumbling along
the boulevard of broken dreams,
maybe joining a motley crue,
or a posse sub bull contra band of thieves
to stay alive as haggardness grew
force to panhandle just enough loose change
to utter a wimpy yahoo
but…if in charitable and philanthropic mood….
well I hate to beg for you
to toss a coin so this rattletrap
can escape Bing caged in the human zoo.
(noah dee ya what activated the
followwing mumbo jumbo gumbo
potpourri.)

Within this cavernous mounting,
and hollow belly aching
numb skull dud jar re: o' mine
mailer daemons craw ling
besieging, bemoaning, and
begrudging silence, a sibling
heart of darkness changeling
swapped within freshly

     earthen grave dug -
corpse heard feebly echoing
sound of deathly hallows heaving -
off vitiating undertakers jabbering    
rodomontade synchronized tolling
tintinnabulation subterranean spilling
repercussion, repeating,
     resonating, reverberating,

where fecund imagine nation
     of mine be whit ching
usually thrives amidst long fostering
     linkedin lovely double crossing
bones (of yours truly) ordinarily inundated
     nonstop ear writ hating
brothers Barnum and Bailey ringing
sear kiss clangorously leavening

with plethora yeast heard dough ping
pong of competing
ideas grotesquely aping
charade, facade holographing
instagramming, jangling,
kindling ludicrously masquerading,
but now at this moment
     drawing nothing but blanks

     that only bring stint ting
lee reddit (Matt Scott) tickled
     yule us *******, where
     gray matter sluggish plea zing
the missus, who asked
     herb huzz zah (pair sight feeding)
insinuating yawping lovey
     dovey mulcting quivering

consternation droning, mocking
     twittering bird like,
     while (I) sought
     out (on a broken wing),
and pitiful prayer, squeezing
my trap pea zoid cinched cerebral
     cache sheared thinker
     watt bright idea
     to write vapid lee intra sting

poppycock to unsuspecting readers
mush doo doo about no thing
substantial, cuz no fanciful, nope
     not even a sing
gew(gaw) lure idea lamely, grandly,
     nor blandly forthcoming,
     which mental impasse,
     wretchedly, viciously, unduly

     thoroughly, roundly severely it ching
most unbearably torturing
of any crisis assaulted, experienced
     and/or imagined by scriveners xing
themselves setting themselves like yang king
doodles precariously balance sing
their quotidian ying.

— The End —