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Nat Lipstadt Mar 14
“Who will judge, as many trudge
through mud, mucking up the rug,
a coating of clay formed by God on a particular day.
Yet talent is ingrained, whether sane or insane,
and verse is treasure or a curse, unrehearsed, dispersed for all to see,
will they applaud or disparage, this marriage of mind and rhyme,
by design aligned, a sign of the times...”

ms. patty m*

~~~
once again a thunderbolt command hits between the eyes, on-right
the precise spot where the head aches with desire to fulfill the write!
but to what can I add to this encompassing question already
better answered by the questioner?

who will judge indeed!

all the time and far too often,
the flotsam rises to the surface, when better left ignored,
while the jetsam jets nowhere, buried deep though breathing yet,
on unseen sea bottom of ignorance,
luck of the draw by one who designs, who aligns,
a capricious starscape in the firmament
as well as
the infirmity & ignominy of caskets lying quiet in sea trenches

that the answer herein contained, a supposition,
a poor poets speculation, a soul’s lactation,
the very question is a cyclone bomb by competents
who are blinded+bound+blessed by
incomprehension

the only judge and jury is
your forefingers tip,
if it tremble a-slight
when caressing the key called send,
your cellular fiber
has adjudged worthy,
and no dare disagree

talent and distinction
randomly and irrationally distributed,
but the courageous caress of a send key pressed,
is all that is needed
to impress the only judge and jury
that
authorized you
in advance to
love yourself insanely well enough
to write
and
to send for
a request for sentencing
Thursday March 14, 2019 10:51am

N.B. as I said,
patty m asked and answered it bestie better
patty m Dec 2014
All is devastation, incrimination,
why the f--k do we fight, happens every night, even when
we make up you whimper like a whipped pup, whine whine,
a warning sign of some other lover, out late another date
U go undercover,
Cold heart, ripped apart,
try to make a brand new start,
You're taking it to your boys ,makin' a lot of noise
I come 2 grips with your lies,
in the event of my demise,

I wish u knew how much i cared,

testament of what we shared.

Off track, never coming back, my pain, your gain
never letting me explain,

i love your kisses,  your body bootilicious

men make mistakes, do what it takes
punch a wall, stand up tall,  you don't wanna
be no loser at all. How will i know if
my mission's achieved, when u come 2
conclusions before the question's conceived?
Before I was blinded, now I'm reminded
out of place out of time, my reputation on the line
A voice inside, my spirit guide, leaves no speculation.
I look wise in review, fairy tales do come true, when manipulated
askew, by selfish people like U.

Bleeding heart torn apart an **** sight hit by a lightning strike

nixed can it be fixed or entwined by

a doctor friend of mine, his name is Frankenstein?

No babies, this lady, wants romance, to dance
and be charmed by a storm out of the blue

not to be tied down or to be misconstrued.
doubleD aka Patty M
Left Foot Poet Apr 2018
man (?)
the tomatoes?  

patty m.,
a grievous error thy commissioned

tomatoes are the quintessential feminine fruit
red juicy, round, curvy, sweet
with a flavor at once the same,
yet never again always different, diffident,
asized, and blonde or red, never contrived

without it,
would pizza be pizza?
without it,
would **** ***** love,
be merely a good salad

or a poem

ever be the same?

“me love tomatoes”
cookie monster
Zeeb Jul 2018
The Lake Pontchartrain Causeway… man that’s one long bridge
I drive it every day for my pay - here’s what I see along the way

Here comes:
Corvette Kary, setting pace, he thinks he’s in a race
When Kary’s not waxing his ride, for your safety you'd best pull aside

Petrified Patty, she’s over water and has never learned how to swim
She’s driving a white Lexus, so scared she has no reflexus

Miata Mike, chasing Kary's Vette, not gonna get too far
Trying to convince himself, he didn’t buy a girly car

Watch out for:

Makeup Mary, on cruise-control, wow she’s one of the worst
She loves her new Camry, but her next car might just be a hearse

Yes, that Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway has its points, take time to see
24 miles of entertainment, and the Northbound way is free

Here comes:

Road Rage Randy, always ****** and he doesn't know why
Today he’s running late, but finds time to escalate

Doughnut Danny, rolling breakfast with tea
Such mechanized efficiency, has a newspaper on his knee

Wackin Wayne, you're kidding me, you thought I couldn't see?  Vibrating Virginia close behind, now we have equality

We've got:

Maypop Marty, thinks tires last forever
Does he even check the air?.... never

Mark The Spark needs a muffler shop, something heavy about to drop.  Comes Innocent Mike on his motorbike too bad he just couldn't stop.

Headphone Harry and his Pandora, he's hear but also... he's not.  He likes his music best, you see, after a few long tokes of his ***.

Fugitive Fred, on the go, at 65 point ooo.  Not a mile to fast or to slow, got to blend in on this bridge you know.

Yes that old Causeway, can be a long and boring ride
And if you get a flat… there’s no place to pull aside
Oh but that Causeway, has its points, take time to see
The mechanized circus on parade, our hilarious humanity

Don’t forget:

Frozen Frita, every rainstorm stops her dead in her track
Then here comes Ramin’ Ron, goin 60, aint too good for her back

No Tie-down Tim, **** flyin’ out of his truck
For everyone behind him, Tim doesn’t give a ****

NPR Nancy, she must be in a “Driveway Moment”
Only problem is, she’s on a god-**** bridge

Texting Theresa, I’ve saved the best for last
The last thing in life she did see, was an idiotic emoji

Lookin’ Lee, that’s me, pretty sad that I’m just as bad
Come join us nuts on the Causeway, might be the most fun you ever had
Mike Hauser Apr 2013
There's a colonel in most every town
And chicken he does know
But the youth of today are not finger licking
They're licking of the toads

When they run out of their drugs
They must run out of their minds
When the toad lickers come a licking
Best to run and hide

Yes, they've found a brand new high
When their *** is running low
The poppy fields have all run dry
And the cow patty mushroom is no mo

The city kids head to the swamps
Just hopping at the thrill
Grabbing at amphibians
And licking them at will

With every tantalizing lick
Trippy little colors do they see
Pass around the froggy
For another lick if you please

But who am I to judge
As crazy as it looks
Could it be as bad as crack
With one lick and you're hooked

I have this nagging question though
That bothers me to this day
Who was the first to lick the toad
And say this taste okay
        
~ribbit~
We had a very happy conversation about family matters.

Mom, Dad. I’m OK.
They’ve been really honest with me
but they’re perfectly willing to die for what they’re doing.
And I want to get out of here
but the only way I’m going to
is if we do it their way.
And I just hope that you’ll do what they say
Dad
and just do it quickly.
I really am alright.
I just hope I can get back to everybody really soon.

My little girl.

Catherine and Randy gave impeccable dinner parties.

I am an Establishment person.

I am being held as a Prisoner of War
and not as anything else.
I mean I am being treated
in accordance with
international codes of war.
I’m not left alone, and I’m not just shoved off somewhere.
I mean, I am fine.

Also, since I am an example
and it’s really important
that everybody understand that
you know,
I am an example and a warning.

And so people should stop acting like I’m dead.

Mom should get out of her black dress,
that doesn’t help at all.
and just hurry.
Bye.

Patty honey I want you to know
that your father is doing everything in his power.
Millions of people all over the world are praying for you
I know it’s been a long time sweetheart
but keep up your courage
and you keep praying
pretty soon god will touch their hearts
and they’ll send you home.


Mom, Dad.
I've been hearing reports about the food program.
So far it sounds like you and your advisors
have managed to turn it into a real disaster.
Anyway, it certainly didn't sound like the kind of food
our family is used to eating.

I called him a couple of weeks ago and said,
Hey, Randy, let's play tennis.
We haven't played tennis in months
and he said
Gosh. I just can't. I'm busy.
I know he's got a lot on his mind,
But, I think he's pretty obsessed with this.


Mom, Dad.
Tell the poor and oppressed people of this nation
what the corporate state is about to do.
Warn Black and poor people
that they are about to be murdered
down to the last man, woman and child.
Tell the people,
Dad
that the removal of expendable excess,
the removal of unneeded people
has already started.

I have chosen to stay and fight.
I have been given the name Tania
after a comrade who fought alongside Che in Bolivia.
It is in the spirit of Tania that I say,
'Patria o Muerte, Venceremos.'

She was one of the prettiest young women south of the Mason‐Dixon line.

Q. Okay. As a matter of fact, when you got to 1827 Golden Gate, or this apartment on
Golden Gate, you were not being held in that closet all the time, were you?
A. Yes, I was.
Q. You were?
A. Yes.
Q. Was there a previous closet in which you were held?
A. Yes.

DEATH TO THE FASCIST INSECT THAT PREYS UPON THE LIFE OF THE PEOPLE

She is a winsome beauty and her sweetness of manner has endeared her to all who know her

Whatever happened to the real men in this world? Men like Clark Gable? No one would have carried off my daughter if there had been a real man there.

She was somewhat of a revolutionary savant.
We kidnapped a freak.
I think that she was spectacular.
At that point, it was against her will to go home.

Q. And you moved in a car, I take it?
A. Yes.
Q. Were you blindfolded?
A. Yes.
Q. And whose car was it, do you know?
A. I don’t know. I was put into a garbage can that was ******* and put in the trunk of the car.
Q. And then, was the garbage can taken into the apartment on Golden Gate when you arrived?
A. Yes.
Q. Were you in it?
A. Yes.
Q. And you were placed in a closet immediately, is that correct?
A. Yes.

I. She’s an amoral person
thought that the rules did not apply to her.
She lied to nuns at school
about her mother having cancer
in order to get out of an exam
engaged in ****** activity
at an early age
and experimented with drugs
such as LSD.

II. Velcro Theory defined the aimless, lost souls
such persons, he said, who float around
in an empty moral space
and then find stuck to them
the first random ideology they bump into.

III. She is a celebrity prisoner of war
but the other thing
is that listening to her voice
is kind of hypnotizing
and not at all unpleasant
she speaks in this whisper
the well-enunciated voice
that someone called
the rich girl’s voice
The eerie voice of an heiress
and it's hard not to admire her composure
considering the ordeal she just went through.

We didn't know whether we were looking at a live girl or a robot.

Greetings to the people.
This is Tania.
Gabi crouched low with her *** to the ground.
Perfect love and perfect hate reflected in stone cold eyes.
To shoot first and make sure the pig is dead before splitting.
I died in that fire on 54th Street,
but out of the ashes I was reborn.
I know what I have to do.

Catherine was mentally and physically exhausted after the kidnapping. No wonder she developed a drinking problem.

Q. Okay. And is it true, Miss Hearst,
that you in the presence of Thomas Mathews ejected a live round from the M-I
that you had near you
and inserted that in the clip,
and put the clip back in the weapon?
A. I don't recall, it is possible.
Q. It is possible you may have.
And did you, in fact, also at that time
load a couple of live rounds
into the chamber of a revolver, a pistol?
A. I don't recall.
Q. Did you give Bill Harris a pistol
in the presence a Tomas Mathews?
A. I don't recall.
Q. You don't recall?
A. No.

I’ll think of it all tomorrow—I can stand it then.

I think this has been extremely ******* her
She's what the kids call ‘spaced out.’
Her religion holds her together.
And when you talk to her,
you see reality escapes her.
All she can say is that people are
‘persecuting’ Patty.
That's the word she uses,
‘persecution.’
We all love Patty,
and God knows she's had a terrible time,
but the whole complexity of the situation
seems to escape Catherine.

You're being told this
so you'll understand why I was kidnapped.
The S.L.A. has declared
war against the Government
I'm telling you now why this happened
so that you'll know
so that you'll have
something to use,
the knowledge
to try to get me out of here.
Bye.

I’m the happiest mother in the whole world.

I hope that you'll make sure that they don't do anything else like that Oakland business.

Q. Do you recall you spoke those words, Miss Hearst?
A. Can I see the transcript?

I don't believe Patty's legal problems are that serious. After all, she's primarily a kidnap victim. She never went off and did anything of her own free will.

From the moment I was kidnapped,
they consistently attempted to
discredit the revolutionaries.
After the first communique was received,
the pigs reacted by hauling out the stress machines.
The machines indicated I was being tortured
and kept awake 24 hours a day.
I guess that all the pigs expected me
to keep my mouth shut,
but I was furious.
They put away their trickology for a while.
If you believe the media,
you'd think I was totally weird.
According to them, I never mean anything.

Catherine, while still blond and attractive, has aged around the corners of the eyes.

Greetings to the people,
this is Tania.
Our actions of April 15
forced the Corporate State
to help finance the revolution.
As for being brainwashed,
the idea is ridiculous beyond belief.
I am a soldier in the People's Army.

I am Tania and We are not fooling around.

What could have been a tremendous instrument for change—Patty's kidnapping—has failed, and their old attitudes toward life—I guess it's called ‘conservatism’—are back

The kids who went to public schools
were not the kind of people
we should have close associations with.
As a result, I spent twelve years
almost totally surrounded by young people
who were busily developing
ruling class aspirations.

She has nowhere to go,
as resulted in only a change of captors.
But at least now,
as long as society is her
captor,
she does not have to worry about being killed.
Freedom may be a more awesome
alternative
-- you are not here to decide that.
We have a framework,
the SLA predicted this trial.
If we can't break the chain
at some point in their predictions,
there are going to be other Patricia Hearsts,
the blueprint is plain,
it works

A year and a half after her kidnapping,
she's in the safe arms of the law.
So, what does she do?
Patty gives the revolutionary salute,
even when she's in handcuffs.
And when she's booked,
she's asked her occupation
and what does she say?
Urban guerilla.

Bailey, I just –
I don't know him,
you know,
like he just kind of drifts in
and you know,
says blah, blah, blah
and I just go,
oh,
okay.

It was never true that our objective was to reconvert her.

You can almost see how Patty couldn’t relate to her—you know, trying to be so self-righteous and so upright.

Well, I always knew
that the Lord was in my life,
kind of on my shoulder.
I started to stray off
I always knew His hand
was there to bring me back.
I got to the house,
put my bags down in the entry,
went right to the kitchen
and the first thought on my heart was
I need to hear Jesus.
I picked up that Bible
and started in Matthew 1:1.
For that whole five days
I read and cried
and read and cried.

In short order, she returned to being the Patty Hearst of Hillsborough, California, the heiress herself.

It's kind of fun because back then,
there's nothing else to do but paint your nails.
It's really exciting.
I have been crocheting now.
At least, my mother came in and she asked –
she had asked me,
about my hair,
you know,
like
can I change it back?
She asked if there was a beauty parlor.

Her eyes are,
for the most part,
downcast,
as if she were sharing a secret with
herself.

She’s such a devoted, old-fashioned Southern lady, that we just died watching her facade break. That hysteria wasn’t just grief that Patty was gone—it was guilt, you know, ‘What have I done wrong?’

I'm being treated in accordance
with the Geneva Convention
and one of the conditions being
that I am not being tried
for crimes which I'm not responsible for.
I'm here because
I'm a member of a ruling class family,
and I think you can begin to see the analogy.

She writes these dramatic
love letters to her boyfriend saying,
"I want to keep up the fight for the revolution."
And she wants to overthrow the government in America,
which she spells A-M-E-R-I-K-K-K-A.

Q. And you were reading a paper, were you not, when they were in the store?
A. Yes.
Q. And you looked up from that paper, did you not, and you saw that William Harris was being held on the ground by someone and being detained, isn’t that true?
A. Yes.
Q. And you picked up an automatic weapon and shot in the direction of Mel’s Sporting Goods Store?

OBJECTION

I have a really nice brown pantsuit.
Al got it.
He has really good taste.

Trish Tobin
is telling her
that she is about to head off to Switzerland
to go skiing for three weeks.
I mean,
so what you have
in this compressed circumstance
is the old life skiing in Switzerland
for three weeks,
and Patty is saying,
I've got a life now.
I've got a new life.

The Hearsts are really ramping up for this one.
He is a bright guy,
but in terms of just his manner and his dress,
you couldn't help but be struck by
how square he was.

Q: I've become conscious and can never go back to the life we had before." Do you recall saying those words?
A: I don’t recall seeing a transcript of that tape.

I have chosen to stay and fight.

She is still an uncommonly handsome woman, prettier in fact than any of her daughters.

It’s a miracle she survived at all.
The ordeal nearly killed me,
Mrs. Hearst once admitted and,
asked what sustained her,
she answers instantly: My religion.
Yet her victory over despair
sometimes seems more apparent than real.
After her divorce, she moved to Beverly Hills,
where she supported Catholic causes
and joined the Beverly Hills Garden Club.

I just want to tell you like, my politics are real different from way back when.
Obviously, right.

Q. Is it not true that you ejected
from your automatic weapon
a live round and placed into it
an additional clip?
A. I did not have an automatic weapon.
Q. You did not?
A. No.
Q. What type of weapon did you have?
A. It was an M-I carbine.

She’s a victim of thought control by terrorists. And all I can do is hope and pray that God will bring her home again.

She was de-programmed and de-radicalized,
returned to the persona
more similar to what she was
She was essentially brainwashed
by her side team and her lawyers.
By the time she walked into the courtroom,
nail polish,
nice pair of shoes,
very well dressed,
it was impressive.

I'm terribly happy. More happy than predacious.
Do you have any notion what you'll say to her when you see her?
I'll tell her I love her.
Are there questions that you want to ask her?
No questions in my mind.


I want to see my parents, and my sisters... I'm really happy to be going home.
I L U like my ***** clothes
Love being forgotten
On my bedroom floor

I L U like chores love the
music that helps them
forget they're chores

I L U like ***** dishes
Love hot showers and
the other side of the sink

I L U like I love spilling
Salt, and warding off the evil
By tossing over my shoulder

I L U like I love
Breaking rules about
my own supposed
Bulletproof non-Superstition

I L U like black cats love
Bad luck, cause to them,
It's just Friday, you know?

I L U like the hot dog bun
Loves staring at the beef patty,
Wishing "if only, if only"

I L U like bread loves
Being forgotten till we're really hungry
And then we're all ungrateful, like
"Hey bread, you remember us?"
And bread is high above us, like
"Always."
Not even a hint of scorn

I L U like the first time I saw
Jurassic Park, The dinosaurs
Were real enough for me,
Even sans chicken feathers, and
Who needs modern science anyways
when love has no fossil records?

I L U like the weather loves
Surprise parties.
I L U like painful
surprise party memories love
being forgotten on my bedroom floor

I love you like Mayflies love living,
oh so briefly, once a day, every single day,
Chapter one to chapter none

I love you like mayflies love themselves,
brevity and all, stirred by nothing but
the glow of Dawn's light,
Dead by dusk, the Mayfly never fully
completes metamorphosis, so it dies
in complete incompletion,
but that's okay.

It drank the salt ocean,
it breathed the living air,
And that's how I want to L U
Mayflies are cool little buggers.
Jordan Hudson Sep 2018
Look over there, who made that sound
Flames shooting, revving up to that rhythm
Check that out, who's gonna win this ground
Think you could use that algorithm
Power, sound, looks and all
Makes a car what it's worth here
Take over lots at the mall
Race each other, like a road buccaneer
Keep up with the V6 that could
Go to the end of that neighborhood
Rice uncooked can never go far
You'll blow your engine in your fake tuner car
Lose your license before next meet
Enjoy riding in the baby's car seat
You drive like an old man or soccer mom lost in her van
Or a school bus driver on icy roads or a dino driving cave man
Could you go a little faster, I have a short attention span
Seriously, you have got to be kidding me
The gas pedal is the one on the right
I'm not trying to sit here and drink a cup of tea
I'm trying to get going and get back home tonight
How could one be this freaking slow
Is this some kind of really annoying joke
I can't take this anymore, just get me home
Let's move, faster than this
Let's go, accelerate already
You aren't dismissed
There is a speed limit, just keep it faster but steady
My old granny can drive faster this, stick to the
plan, get ready
How about you drive like a businessman
That is late to work driving to New York
Office job with a bossy manager fatter than pork
Who sits at her desk with a beef patty stuck on her fork
Give it up and stuff her mouth with a old nasty cork (aye, aye, aye, aye)
Keeps on eating every single day, she would be the one to bring down Santa's sleigh midway to West Coast bay to deliver some kids toys with so much delay that he cries as he looks up in the sky while Santa isn't there yet with his supply but if you magnify the sky you can still see him all the way in Shanghai all because of this fatty bringing down a sleigh, make way for this large celestial body as it crash lands upon the new airports runway
Look over there, who made that sound
Flames shooting, revving up to that rhythm
Check that out, who's gonna win this ground
Think you could use that algorithm
Power, sound, looks and all
Makes a car what it's worth here
Take over lots at the mall
Race each other, like a road buccaneer
Keep up with the V6 that could
Go to end of that neighborhood
Rice uncooked can never go far
You'll blow your engine in your fake tuner car
Lose your license before next meet
Enjoy riding in your babies seat
Flames shooting, revving up to that rhythm
Check that out, who's gonna win this ground
Think you could use that algorithm
Power, sound, looks and all
Makes a car what it's worth here
Take over lots at the mall
Race each other, like a road buccaneer
Keep up with the V6 that could
Go to end of that neighborhood
Rice uncooked can never go far
You'll blow your engine in your fake tuner car
Lose your license before next meet
Enjoy riding in the babies car seat
About car meets and Christmas, just a big joke poem
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2016
A minyan is an assembly of ten Jews.  With ten present, the group can perform a fuller service, adding congregational prayers that an individual alone cannot say, and in heaven, received, as if from a 
more powerful, unified voice.

~~~
Satan laughing with delight at the happy news,
unusually proud of his soul-retrieving,
red state minions,
having scored late in the '16 season,
a long awaited prize,
a high priest of music, a hallelujah singer
just come  cross the borderline,
once a mere earth bound legend,
now to be mockingly enjoyed
in this, his legendary peculiar tier of heaven
~
a banner year it was, a cornucopia of new arrivals,
singers, songwriters, composers, conductors, rock 'n rollers,
itinerant blues musicians,
who as a rule, were not the most faithful observers
of the Ten Commandments and its host of detailed relatives
~
body and drug abusers,
of traditional morals, not such big users,
and as for their *** lives,
best not discussed in front of the baby devils,
just quite yet
~
all this made for easy "pluckings,"
as he smiled devilishly, his own ironic sense of humor,
an added delight for the new American Pie
that would forever serenade him henceforth
~
indeed this Leo-nine most new arrival,
intensifies the pleasure,
for deep in this one had waxed the god-spark,
his own fractured demise,
now allowing the cracks of light to be closing,
lessening by an immeasurable fraction
the despised joy to the world
-
then a raucous rustling heard,
a voice unseen but siren penetratingly heard proclaiming:

**** you Satan,
this time you've gone too far!

return unto me them all,
for you have overstepped the boundaries I have constructed
when birthed I the universe so long ago

these children, mine,
for though they were not perfect in their lives,
they perfected ever so much my designs,
the world I granted them,
with their music, voice and hands,
absolving them of all their sins

Surrender to me them all!

my Prince,
my lion, Cohen, high priest of my temple,
my haggard and worn Merle,
the greyed and Frey'd eagle, Glenn,
Natalie, daughter of the Earth King of Cole,
my rose of Sharon Jones,
my Emerson and my Lake,
Leon Russell,
my white bearded russet
who wrote 'A Song For You,'
the Duchess, Patty,
my Bobby Vee,
the first ro see
'the night has a thousand eyes,'
Frank Sinatra Jr., his fathers torch bearer,
my David, my right arm, my Bowie knife carrier,
who fell from heaven and needs returning unto me,
mine own Kanter, Jeffersonian pilot of my Airplane,
my Michael, George,
my Martin, George,
who never sang a word
but gifted us some Beatles,
My black and White Maurice,
who reignited the Earth, with Wind and Fire

all these mine and all the musicians of this year,
they have died, but not their music,
now to join my heavenly chorus,
my musicians' minyan
Second of a trilogy, but the first one posted,
about Leonard Cohen

Kohen or cohen (or kohain; Hebrew: כֹּהֵן‎, "priest", pl. כֹּהֲנִים‎ kohanim) is the Hebrew word for priest used colloquially in reference to the Aaronic priesthood. Jewish kohanim are traditionally believed and halakhically required to be of direct patrilineal descent from the biblical Aaron. The term is colloquially used in Orthodox Judaism in reference to modern day descendants of Aharon, brother of Moses.

Among the few remaining responsibility of a cohen today is the chanting of the priestly  blessing in the synagogue on high holy days in a special tune, instantly recognizable  by every Jew.   When the  Jewish priest chants the blessing, the Spirit of God is presumed to become present in the synagogue, and all bow their heads, fathers cover their children's eyes, lest one witness  god's image. Ironically, the special way that a cohen extends his arms and holds his fingers in a V  shape, was borrowed by another Canadian Jew, Leonard Nimoy, as inspiration for Spock's  greeting.

see en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priestly_Blessing

see
//jewcy.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/leonard-nimoy-vulcan-salute-yiddish
patty m May 2018
Easy rider,
looking like a fighter,
someone put a foot in his face.
Small town Susie,
flirting like a ******,
dying to get out of this place.

In duo spin
two sheets to the wind,
ships that pass in the night,
they held on together,
dressed in jeans and leather
trying to make it all right.

They did Dallas
the pleasure palace,
slept out in a barn,
do-rag daddy's red-hot mama
going round the horn.

She got drunk and he got wasted
as they rode to New Orleans.
The food they bought, still untasted
as they danced like Cajun queens.

Hot jazz funnels,
the darkness tunnels,
white limbs twist in flight.
Hot sin city, cool lick ditty,
eighteen bars in sight

Blues at night,
fried notes on white,
hash browned and over easy,
grind and grit, wind and spit,
slide down the sax so greasy.

He rolled the throttle
she emptied her bottle
then did her beauty queen wave

they leapt the highway
and carved the canyon
spent the night inside a cave.

Big bear growling
wolves out howling
till morning lit the pass
they hopped the bike
and coasted downhill,
their hog was out of gas.

Now they''re hikin'
no more bikin'
the whiskey drank, now fumes

if they can't hitch
then life's a *****
and this ditch could be their tomb.

Red hot momma
always ready for a drama
sheds her clothes with certain flair,

the first truck passing
almost crashin'
as the driver slowed to stare.

Ring-a- Round Sally,
lollin' in an alley
two flyin' over the moon
they toured the world
until their long hair curled
and they came home
crazy as loons.

Patty M
patty m Jun 2014
Move the cobwebs ever softly

peer inside the poor girl's head

see the wheels turning ever

see the heartache see the dread.


Step into the parlor fancy

see the teacups and the cake

no matter she's not calm but antsy

fragile, with supposed strength fake

See her vision and desire

see her patience start to shred

bathed in fleas she's ever stirring

never sleeps but yearns for bed


years of torture years of caring

when she sits she's sadly staring

her patience wants to scream and shout

is this what life is all about?


where's the love that lights the stars

kisses sweet as chocolate bars

where is one who'll treasure her

lift spirit with their warmth and care.


delve inside the secret place

see the worry on her face

truth is cringing in the dark

while lies bare teeth like hungry sharks


see the constant urge for ***
avoid the brew and  wicked hex

anger feral in her brain
calmly sits and grows insane


lightning strikes the wishing well

the frontal lobe goes to hell
gray matter quickly scatters

as she sits and simply blathers  

cortex, reflex and sensory receptor
ate the knowledge that kept there

her mind is now a ticking bomb
sensory message sent pon to pon

medulla oblongata sticks, adheres
the brain on empty disappears

pupils go from bright to dim
reflexes stall and life looks grim

imagination kicks to high
she's floating in a pure blue sky
no horrors of the daily grind
she likes her body without a mind

yet fate steps in with evil grin
spouting poetry by the line

some sublime or sometimes crass
it knocks the girl  on her ***
soon stimuli kites, and neurons light
and the brain begins to reunite

no giving in without a fight
thus reality must ensue
as the grim and sin rush in
what's a girl to do?

Now you've seen it all
I hope you're not appalled

though it may seem senseless and ratty
so works the brain however inane
of our overworked addled Patty
BJ Donovan Apr 16
You bring me to my knees
     begging or praying or both.
     I've been on a razor's edge
     since our orbits collided at
     that party down the rabbit
     hole. I was mad as a hatter
     and we fit like a glove.
     We flew too close to our sun
     and didn't survive our heat.
Jim Marchel Sep 2016
We will never forget...

The last day dawns on my life
And I don't know it
As I wake up to golden rays
Of sun knocking on my eyelids.

I kissed my wife good morning,
Got up out of bed
And tucked her in again.
Naomi spent 10 hours last night
Delivering a new mother's firstborn.
I didn't tell her good morning
And I wish I told her I loved her
But I didn't want to wake her.

I sipped my coffee on the way to work
As if it were any other day,
My only worry was if I had spilled any
On the new pink and white
Polka-dot tie my daughter Elise
Had bought me for my birthday
Last weekend
Or the new Bostonian shoes
My wife gave me
With the card that read,
We love you from top to bottom!

I walked into the conference room
And checked my watch:
8:36.
I was 9 minutes early
To the most exciting moment
Of my career:
My first pitch as project manager
For the new country club going up
East of the city in Glenwood Landing.

I was 10 minutes early
To the most helpless moment
Of my life.

At 8:45 I said good morning
To many fine ladies and gentlemen...
Bankers, lawyers, city representatives,
A union boss, some secretaries,
And a stenographer in the back.

The same words I would never again say to my wife and child...

And immediately I was thrown
Through the air
And knocked against the righthand wall
Of the room.
I was utterly confused
And my face burned
From the coffee I had been holding
That now stained
My beautiful polka-dot tie.

It would be nothing compared to the heat I would soon face.

Outside our 111th-story window
Rose an obsidian plume of smoke.
We all knew something terrible
Had happened just a few floors below.

The fine ladies and gentlemen
Of a moment ago
Quickly turned into uncivilized beasts
As the lights went out
And the piercing scream of the fire alarm
Shouted louder than the new mother
Experiencing the pain
Of her first childbirth.

Smoke very quickly came from below
And filled the floor with the foulest odor
I had ever smelled:
Burning rubber, sulfur,
And burnt hair.
Others in the room sealed the door shut
With expensive overcoats and undershirts
From Armani and Burberry.

They tried the phone countless times
But the line was dead.
I looked down at my watch
As a bead of sweat fell from my brow
And landed on my new tie:
9:11.

Today's date.

The fire alarm got tired of yelling
And the room was filled with an
Uncomfortable rumbling sound...

Flames...

...and the hysterical wails of the
Fine ladies and gentlemen in the room.
Some prayed, some wept together,
Others wept alone.
The one thing we all had in common
Was the persistent coughing
From the obsidian smoke
Slicing our lungs.

I looked down at my watch:
9:23.
The heat was now almost unbearable.
We huddled around the window
Jack or John or Jim smashed
With the powerful throw
Of a mini-refigerator.

When I gazed out the window
At the same sun that kissed my eyelids
This morning,
I was calm.
I thought of Naomi, who was
Surely watching on television
As her family called her to make sure
Her and I and Elise were alright.

Daddy's alright, baby girl.

I'm alright, Naoms.

9:31...
Gary or Greg was the first to jump.

I'll make it home to you, angels.

9:32...
Sophia or Cynthia was next.

Please, God, get me out of here...

9:33...
Jack or John or Jim
And Patty or Peggy
Were each other's last hug
As they fell
Like two stars from heaven.

9:35...
I couldn't see
And I couldn't breathe.
The sunlight was the last thing to kiss me.

Before I jumped
I felt my girls.
I touched the tie on my neck
And the shoes on my feet.

I love you both

From top to bottom.
We will never forget...
patty m Mar 5
Validate me

with punctuation.

Forever sentence

and pronounce

me with adverbs

and nouns, your adjectives

draw upon my will,

spilling desire across skin.

Exclaim to me love and loving

& never question my devotion while

holding me bracketed in your embrace.

Kiss me with quotations, woo me with verse,

shall we capitalize our aggression

and lower case our sighs?  I leave my heart

between your gentle commas,

the alpha and omega of time.

Riddle me with secret encryptions

your sentences rotating

break into a loving phrase, an almost chant, that

sprinkles life with sparkling asterisks, throbbing stars.

Quote my indecision as if verbatim

yet backspace to ease my mind..

The back slash terror never leaves me

yet it semi colons and no longer pounds.

You are my saving grace

my spell check, who shifts tides

and tickles fancy,

there is no escape when love is tabulated

I'm your prisoner, you hold the keys.

Written by
patty m  ether
Apporva Arya Nov 2018
So many you have,
I wish if you can only be mine.
Made me laugh,
When I cried..
Walked me home,
When night was dry..
Gave me your half,
When I lost all mine..
The patty we shared,
shows you care.
How lovely you stare,
To which i can escape no where..

So deep your eyes,
Just like twilight at sunrise.
And so dope your smile,
Always stop my heart,
But its alright.. :)
So many you have,
I wish if you can be only be mine.
I am not only drunk on love but bit tasting jealousy too.I want him to be only mine. Like the way he make me feel so special.
Edward Sep 11
Hellopoetry has the greatest poets of this time.
I am so bless to know them and to share too.
On the site that has the very best of them all.
There are so many to name on here  right now.
Brandon Nagely, TheRaven,CJLove,White Wolf.
Vicki,Bijan Rabiee, Darrell Landstrom, Patty m.
Openworldview,forgotten, samanthax,Arianna, Fawn.
Dennis Willis,Evangeline Ruth Hope,Muzaffer.
Naceur Ben Mesbah, Faizel Farzee, Dan Hess.
Crazy Diamond Kristy, Katja Pullinen, Deb Jones.
M-E, Long Rager,Amulya,Pradip Chattopadhyay.
Madison,Joanna,Sally Bayan, Wendy ,Izzn,Fredrick N.
There are many more praying Blessings upon your works.
AestheticAbi Jun 14
Thikki-Nikki
Fatty-Patty

Different
Yet
The
Same

One
Honored
One­
Shamed

It’s okay to be curvy
Actually I take that back
It’s beautiful and you shouldn’t worry
About what you lack

As
Long
As

You stay true
To you

Just love your self and just remember
It could be worse
Poetoftheway Aug 25
Perchance it loves me too?


<>
Vicki and patty m.
<>

no one loves the same,
the moon, or me,
or you two too,
exactly exact,
or, especially
each other

every stream of light refracts differentiation,
rays scattered and triggering you-know-what

it is never by
perchance,
always by
first glance

rays that are moon ordained,
plotting paths on the river and bay
that check my souls consternation
asking me nightly,
come walk on water,
come to visit me,
when I am a verdant blue

once upon a time,
the moon would come to me
by early afternoon, so had a
doubleheader of celestial admirable

moon,
for its plotting morning carryovers
going all the way occasionally
to afternoon sunlight,
as if it is like love
that passes
through a checkpoint,
saying, see!
a safe transition
to the east/west passageway
of your humanity heavenly inclusive

I’ve loved creatures,
human and even better than them,
feminine and masculine,
never made any difference,
for it was never a competition

my whole soul went wet,
Olson,
from then till now,
when the love word escaped
my lips, troublemakers, happily,
the misery it provided was ecstasy,
made the poem solutions even better

but by now, august August,
woe within me, strong the sadness,
the end of summer chilling forces,
makes sure the dividing line
is redrawn and love and moonlight,
once inseparable,
are again fully distinct and

perchance,
come September
hopefully I’l forget and I won’t remember
all the rest,
just the best of the best of
you two poets scheming,
how to enlighten the world
with blue moon words




2:16pm,Sunday August 25
2019
BJ Donovan Oct 2018
Tall Autumn grass in Winton Woods surrendering our virginity.

    Gloucester, MA in a beach motel in bed with Patty tipsy at noon.

    VW front seat with Lynette in carny ***.

    On a green on a golf course in the dark. A hole in one!

    A drunken debauched night with a French painter's *****.

    My Italian angel who liked a bit of kink with her holy.
Thank God we have such an interest in *** or we'd have been extinct long ago!
patty m Feb 17
My screen name my real email address, not Patty M.
is masculine.  I didn't want it to sound too feminine, for fear of being hounded so I chose one with strength ,
thinking as I newly entered AOL, the gates of hell, that this name
with fortitude would get me through.
I happened across the AOL poetry boards,
a wannabe writer, dumb, naive but open to acquiring knowledge.
And acquire it I did.  I began in the guise of a man,
thinking it safer that way.  No one would bother a guy,
and if they should think I'm a nerd, what do I care?
For a while it worked, I chiseled my skill, with
harsh words and a dark demeanor.  At least that's
what I thought.  It wasn't too many weeks into the game that
I was found out,  it seems my feminine side had a way of seeping through, soft and syrupy making it's own womanly appearance  So I chucked it all in and became who I really was.  

Then there is still the matter
of my screen name, which soon got to be problematic.
It seems a business man, possibly rich, who traveled a lot
and was a player, had a name almost exactly the same
as mine, except for one letter.  Odd thing that he'd dropped the e.
Soon I was barraged with email from woman of all kinds and shapes
sending me pictures, and telling me what they wanted to do
to me.  Apalled, I fell back from the screen, emitting
a primal scream.  What the f- - k  is this all about?  I was
beside myself with worry.  Had I set off a mob of hot ladies
with the poetry I had written?  Good Grief, Charlie Brown,
what the hell was I supposed to do now?

One day soon after the initial outpouring of **** females
parading in scanty attire, I was accosted by a male
in IM.  "What the f- -k are you doing online, you're supposed
to be on an airplane to Brazil." he wrote.  First my mouth
fell open, and then I wrote back, "are you talking to me?"
I know I'm not the fastest with good comebacks, at least
I wasn't then, but I'll blame it primarily on shock.
I asked him who the hell he was, and he told me he
was my brother-in-law.  Now this is really scary,
because I don't have a brother or sister.  "Not possible,"
I say, and he goes on laughing like it's all a big joke
cussin' his head off and being a general *******.
Well I finally broke in, and told him I am a woman,
and I'm not your brother- in- law.  He said he always knew I
was a little *****, followed by hearty laughter.  I
was beside myself with anger, wanting to punch this
guy out.  I screamed my text across the IM screen
I'm a girl, I'm not your freakin' brother in law and I don't
know what the hell you're talking about, nor do I want too!

He got the message then, and calmed down a bit,
and told me he apologized, but there must be
an error on AOL because I had his brother-in-law's
screen name.  Then after closer scrutiny he discovered
I had the e the other guy dropped.  What a crazy
fiasco this was.  It took a week maybe a little longer
for those poor woman to find the user of their dreams.
In the mean time I sent them all my regrets,
told them  I had a venereal disease, and that my wife would
cut my d- -k off if she found out I was playing around with anyone
ever again. I sabotaged his player status, every way I could.
First the initial shock, and then the messages
all faded away.  So I kept the name that I loved, yet
every now and then it still causes problems,
especially in poetry chat rooms where they don't know me.
Women still seem attracted to the name, inviting me to
to private chat

Hey! do any of you guys, wanna buy my name?
patty m Dec 2018
Beloved your hands speak without words
taking me over the edge,
untie the knot
and let the threads of twilight fall.

Seduction is your smile
the way you lift the sheet in a beguiling way
tempting me with the warmth beside you.
Tenderness fills me with desire
narrowing the space
to your outstretched hand.

We love, could life be more beautiful
extending sunlight sparkling midair?
Words become un-played notes to touch,
its symphony welling.

Burnished heat warming heart and soul,
love translates to mouths and lips, through kisses.  
We speak in tongues of glories given
fingers of light, a teardrop of happiness
spilling into sleep and sensuous dream;
only to awake to rain and distant thunder,
the desire to speak again .

Written by
patty m  ether
Celestite Oct 2018
We pulled up in the drive way
If it weren't for my hello kitty flip flops, my feet would've melted into the cracks of the pavement.
Running up to ring the doorbell, and the smell of home rushing through my nose as I am greeted by hugs.
Kicking off my kicks, and letting the beige colored carpet mingle with the bottoms of my feet.
Leaping on to a couch that was stained with strawberry ice cream and memories.
The lace that trailed off the ends of the curtains danced as the breeze from an open winow came to say, "hello."
Splashing in a wading pool while grandma looked through Avon catalouges
sipping lemonade that we made prior, in a Disney Princess Sippy Cup.
I run up the stair into my room; sparkly purple bed sheets cover my bed and I crash.
All snuggled up in an ocean of blankets while everyone else watches the Steelers game downstairs.
As I dose off, half way through a dream filled with pink, grandpa woke me up; he said we were going out for ice cream!
I put on my favorite Little Mermaid shirt on and ran downstairs.
We all pile into an old BMW and start our journey to Sarris.
Nostalgia and city lights fill my eyes with wanderlust.
We park the car and rush to hop in line. When we order our ice cream we sit down in a red diner-hop booth.
Everyone together, MiMi, Papap, Mom, Dad, Victoria, Patty, G-G, and me.
And I don't know if it was eating powdered donuts on Sunday mornings
Or the way that Fresca tasted after eating a happy meal,
but visiting your house
in that small town in Pittsburgh
Is the only way that I can describe "home."

— The End —