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Nat Lipstadt Apr 2019
make it looking easy peasy (writing poems)
~for the co conspirators, they know who they are, them
foreign poets~


write in solitudes,
provocations arriving from within and without,
the hot magma melting internally,
the sting of red scars from arriving cold asteroid hits

all I’ve got to do is faithfully transcribe
the knife fights, the not OK corral fights,
the trailing comets passing-laughing their tales off
at the black hole idiot
who said writing poetry is
easy peasy

of course making it easy,
no issue no problem,
just by picking up those
peasy pieces
of leftover me

11:48pm 4-4-2019
#make #it #looking #easy #peasy
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2013
What poem will you wear, when first we meet? (Aug. 2013)
What poem will you wear, when first we meet?

How will I recognition-you,
when you transverse my land?
Unknown our faces, our voices,
Only silent words electronic exchanged

Will lantern, it be: one, if by land, two, if by sea?
Will your ID badge, passport stamped and state,
Your chest bear a witness-sign?

The Arrivals Board flashes:
                    une poétesse est arrivé
                    eine Dichterin ist angekomme
                    a poetess has arrived
                    una poetisa ha llegado

Will there be a haiku in your hair,
A limerick exposed by raucous grin,
Or just ten words
allotted for your entire visit?

Desperate to locate
Urgent to sensate
Matters I take
Into two cupped hands,
On the shoeshine stand
Climb and recite-shout

Know me by my words,
Know me by the lilt lyrical
Of my American accented,
Canadian Tongue of my mother

Know me by my words,
Carved by time on my forehead,
Poetry is the blood of this fool's soul,
Hear me, find me, look upon me slamming

Poems are the thorns in my palms,
See me crucified, bleeding stanzas
Upon my shoeshine stand cross
Recitation resuscitation welcoming:

Benedicting Gloria, Gloria, Gloria

But if this should fail your attention to secure,
Or the TSA unappreciate my second coming,
Look for the crowd gathered round,
A man of moderate height, in a tall hat,
Beard scraggly, looking sorrowful
Reciting the Gettysburg Address

Either way,
Should be easy peasy to find me,
Grab your bag, off to short-term parking

This is how an Americana poet meets n' greets
Arriving poetess from a foreign land

Is there any other way?
------------------------------
Postscipt
Alas, five years on and I know in my heart
that you are not coming...
Aug 2013
#what #poem #will #you #wear #when #first #we #meet
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Nat Lipstadt Sep 2018
“leave at your own chosen speed” (9/11/18)
“leave at your own chosen speed”

always,
Dylan inserts a phrase that haunts,
indestructible permafrost,
played in slow and ever slower reverb all life long,
for it’s intuitive and you recognize it too well
as the best companion to the sour ending of another love affair

(but! this one differs; called love yourself)

the sad of a dying love, remembering the steady drift away,
capped by a casual remark that doesn’t sting but
cuts a Y on your chest, a lover’s coroner courtesy,
the bad humours permitted to at long last healthy escape

you’re staggered but say nothing for
speed
is a changeable elf, a mischievous devil,
requiring constant monitoring cause you moving,
but the speed limit alway a reflection of the road you’re on

speed is a tag along to show the overall fit still works,
though now far from the obvious and familiar
and the inspiration modifies,
so you retrofit untill the parts are incapable of
bending to new demands, contours unfamiliar, old plans no good

“leave at your own chosen speed”

for I am leaving you as I leave myself,
beaches erode,  lighthouses corrode, the salt cannot be refused,
the earth demands your return as the lease is deemed
non-renewable and the space where the date shall be inserted,
is parcel of the contract and though blank, certain to be fulfilled

the body erodes, the ***** parts corrode,
and this season of the new year^ comes with the usual disclaimer
recited on the tenth day from today

‘who will live, who will die,’^^

taught to you as a young-in, a child who can comprehend
even before manhood arrives, comprehend that life ends,
all good things and it ain’t no use, born compromised, but
“don’t think twice, it’s alright”

the slate you have written overdue for a prudent clean wet erasure,
so you begin to leave at your own chosen speed,
which is kind of nice, even cool, organizing your papers,
write with contented softness that so long eluded,
now come easy heady peasy

after a life of reciting poetry, good bad and always too long,
the pressure is on and off, side by side, even a dimming bulb
sheds some light, revealing what yet needs revealing

that Day of Atonement annual visitor,^^^ he/she of impish humors,
makes Pandora play a new station,
‘dimming of the day,’
reminder that it gave you a piece of an unowned heart to hold,
leased temporarily but the temp is roaring,
who, boo hoo, for you?

life and love is all about leaving,
the pen in penitent gone dry, no refills in this new world,
wish that **** rooster would stop crowing at
the break of sundown,^^^^  when I'll be gone
I'll be travelling on, for when the new day begins,
that’s my own signature personal gravestone marker,
the sundown poet
------------------------------------------------------------­-------



~the first day of the new year on the Jewish calendar
  Mon, 10 September 2018 =  1st of Tishrei, 5779

  Rosh Hashana 5779
^ see https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur

^^ see poem  https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1833523/for-leonard-cohen-who-by-fire/

^^^ see poem https://hellopoetry.com/poem/462537/how-i-observed-the-day-of-atonement/

^^^^ jewish law says the day begins at sunset till the next sundown
#chosen #speed #atonement
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david badgerow Nov 2011
easy peasy lemon squeasy (10 word poem ten--last one)
you know, i
could do this **** all
day long
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Fah Sep 2013
Timey Limey Easy Squeezy Lemon Peasy
Time or the essance of Death

distilled.

No matter the who -
Someone , some force
snowballed.

The greatest daylight robbery -
that of our TIME.
TIME.
is not money

"At least in my books"
-me.
Continue reading...
Max Hale Oct 2015
Easy peasy
Creative actions are more than enough
To convince me that I am working hard
Blooming flowers prove the point
That nature has a method of showing the world
How amazing we all are.
Dedication from each of us can portray
The effort of clarification from results
Mornings of sunshine days are also great ways
To feel we are on the firmest of footings and cups
Of our enthusiasm drench us as our excitement bubbles
Flesh is weak they say but not so
Eliminate our thought process
Just leave the muscle and the bones of the plan
By any respect the job will be done
Sometimes dwelling on an evaluation is fruitless
Gain some notes in your tune
Misalign your face and just work at it.
Develop your space and live
Don't think too much
Enjoy the life with which we are blessed
Easy
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Anais Vionet Jan 2022
afternoon engagements
Annick (my 28 year old sister) came down to NYC, from Boston, for a day visit. It was one of those warm, cerulean days between Christmas and New Years. Annick’s in a surgical residence, in a pandemic, but still somehow, she got away.

We’re dining on a shaded, outdoor, sundeck - I arrived first, by a moment but then the elevator opened and Annick emerged, looking like a model - familiar but I don’t know - more completely adult - more than ever like my mom. It was all I could do not to weep for happiness when we hugged.

After that long hug, Annick gave my clothes a slow, censorious looking-over. When my mom and I shopped for “school clothes” last year, in Paris, I bought some stunning designer (Anna Molinari) clothes - only to find out they were completely out of place at Yale. Now they’re sentenced to a trunk under my bed and my replacement clothes are from FatFace and Patagonia. Ordinary clothes, bought for their ordinariness.

I’ve been dressing to disappear but I wanted her to see a “new me.” How I’ve survived in a rough, academic country - not just survived - but thrived. I also wanted her to think her sister was beautiful and hoped I didn’t seem too strange. She cupped my chin - just like my mom does - “You look wonderful,” she said.

Annick mentioned we’d have company for lunch but she was alone - then this tall, fair-haired, man was with us. He slipped his arm around Annick’s waist and they smiled, together. I’d never met one of Annick's boyfriends before so this was a little disconcerting - part of me wanted to pull her away and say, “MINE!”

Annick made the introductions, “Anais, this is Gerard - Gerard, Anais.”  Gerard leaned into la bise then half hugged me, patting me bearishly on the back. I decided he was too tall and too handsome and began to examine him for flaws.

He wore a dark-charcoal-gray cashmere suit with a light-gray oxford-cloth shirt. “Are you always so dapper?” I asked? “I wanted to look substantial,” he said, with a very slight French accent. He held me at arm’s length. “You’re definitely sisters,” he said, smiling.

We settled in. At first we were a little stilted with each other, uncertain how to best introduce ourselves. Annick said that Gerard is a “Child Neurologist.” “Funny,” I said, “you look older.” and he laughed. I was warming to him.

“How’s school going?” Annick asked later, moving some of my fly-away hair out of my face - a trace of the maternal in her solicitous fussing - but I liked it.
“Easy peasy,” I said, the lie warming me like an ember or black magic.

There’s no real sibling rivalry between us. Imagine you’re Beyoncé’s sister, what are the odds that you’ll eclipse Beyoncé? Yeah, it’s ZERO.

“Ha!” she laughs, “you are such a little fibber.”
“I am NOT,” I hotly say, but my defense is ruined by my laugh. “I’m doing ok - but it’s a lot,” I say, to erase the fib.

They’re ENGAGED!
I tried not to act stunned but I doubt I was very convincing. The news thumped me like a gust of wind. Suddenly, I knew. Our yesterdays were no more substantial than a story we’d read together growing up, that you can mourn and rejoice at the same time.

Otherwise it was a family lunch, although at first I was a bit nervous around Gerard. At one point Annick says, “What are you doing?” as the table gently quivered.
I smiled wincingly, “Making circles with my ankles,” I said.
Annick smiled knowingly.
a slice of college, Christmas holiday
#holiday #sister #engagement #lunch #teen #humor
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Shofi Ahmed Aug 2018
Spare Me A Digit Gap
I was on the way to pick her up,
was just about to cross a slippery *****
on the front yard of my in-laws’ home.
Forget how long it took me to cross,
Huh, I had to solve a riddle.
A Moon pops up halfway through,
right in my way, it just won’t move.

I said I don’t need any horoscope,
already married, I am not a groom!
She goes, I too don’t fancy fussing about.
The riddle I got is only an easy-peasy one.
Just tell me your W duo—Where and When
did you take your first breath?
I laugh, isn't it the mum who can tell best,
who saw it first when I was born
but I can't go back and ask her,
she won’t show up
unless I return home, picking her up.

I said to the moon, o dear,
never did I say you got a scar,
that a spot on your face is cute, fair,
is only a cool shadow of one’s
deep-rooted fine lock of hair!

I then ran to the expert scientist.
He said it’s all vibrating but knows not
where the heck, if ever the spin might stop.
Again I ran to knock on the Sufi’s door.
He seemed to know why I went there,
And said in a deep voice, “as far as I know,
you don’t have a sister-in-law!”

Again the moon asks, in a heavy tone
“Tell me the truth,” before it's too long,
I said you’re in my way,
“I am not asking for an acre of moon.
Spare me a digit gap if you could.”

Unlike how the lands on earth, she tells,
keep changing the hands,
owning the ultimate plot is still one’s dream.
But no space is left unmeasured in space.
You miss by a hairbreadth, no matter how tiny,
and you might as well miss it by the eternity.

So zero space can I spare says the moon
This is it, the dead end, no more room to move.
Still, even a closed circle can’t be close,
the smallest atom is not the smallest to be closed.
The constant spin inside it constantly finds
ever more space to move on, because the root
pi is cracked open, spills out a new decimal,
though none can pinpoint, in this finest loophole
the sky can sway and earth finds a mouth to jingle!
Future is more digital. In the last stanza, a complicated dilemma solves for me. Since the subject matter is that there is one perfect circle though it's vividly complex to discover. The Motion continues even from the ultimate end of the tiniest particle. Because the closed circle is somehow open for something. But this subtlest opening angle is transcended cannot be located. Just as the never ending pi decimals denote its enduring open range without projecting a pattern is a juxtaposed example.

Juxtaposition conveys a lot of meanings in natural science. For instance, the inverse of phi golden ratio 1.618 is 0.618 they are same but utterly two different Numbers. I find it as a sign that the closed circle also can open without actually opening to the mass.
#digital #moon #circle #breath #shadow #scientist #space #earth #plot #dream
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nevaeh Jan 2022
easy peasy
for once
i agree
i think we are better
as nothing at all
im happier now
and i'll let you be the same
no harm done
in doing nothing at all
your life is none of my business
i only wanted to know you were okay
still breathing and alive
thats as far as my interest goes
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Raj Arumugam Jul 2013
the riddling fruiterer
our fruiterer is a riddling prankster
who jumps up from every corner
and tray and stacks, with any old silly riddle

(1)
“Looking at apples, eh?”
he approaches Sandy
“What did the apple say to the bug?
Oh – stop bugging me!”

And he laughs at his own humor
(or lack of it)
while severe Sandy rotates
an apple in her left palm
and he ventures to the next vulnerable customer,
who is me

“How, my dear man,” he proceeds to ask
“do you fix a broken tomato?”
I shake my head, bewildered
and he unpacks his own riddle:
“Tomato paste!”
And he roars with laughter
his chilli-sharp eyes pointed
at his next customer


(2)

And off he goes with his riddles –
with his booming voice, no pause
and wrapping his answers in cracking laughs

He jumps to an old man
and he says:
“Why, do tell me, do bananas
never feel lonely?”
“Cos they always come in bunches”

And the young couple he regales with:
“Why did the tomato go out with the prune?
Oh, come on…simply cos he couldn’t find a date!”

And to an old woman he says
in  near-Oedipus style:
“What did the Dad Tomato tell his Kid Tomato?
Ketchup!”

And as in a light musical
he turns about and whoever he finds
he unleashes his final:
“How do you fix a cracked pumpkin?
Easy peasy – you use a pumpkin patch!”

Ah, our fruiterer is a riddling prankster
who jumps up from every corner
and tray and stacks, with any old silly riddle
...poem based on a bunch of jokes I harvested online, and that I've put together through this persona of my imagined fruiterer...
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Nat Lipstadt Jun 2013
How I Defrosted My Woman
Relationships are not easy-peasy,,
Some take work, some, self-sacrifice.

Some must overcome defects congenital,
Obstacles so great that the Roman Gods
Are asked to intervene,
Send down those hotties, the fiery Furies,
who punished crimes at the instigation
of the soon to be frozen victims

So to the chase,
let's cut,
My woman's has true blood,
H2O
In solid state.

Her body is icy, permanent frosty,
And requires regular de-icing
Before Take Off.
This condition being true of her
Every part except, her prima facie.

Even the bed complains,
Whining creeks and groans,
Sometimes it even screams,
When she get in sans pajamas.

I,
A bastion of extra human warmth,
As my poems bear witness,
Normal temp is 102,
I am the joy of her life,
For love, I make the
Ultimate sacrifice.

Her feet, medieval torture instruments,
Her bare hands, have
Killed lesser men and folkloric-ly,
Reputedly, she has flash froze and keeps
Some vampires in the basement fridge,
Suitable for reheating in the microwave.

You may think this charming,
This poem, an amuse-bouche,
But it ain't funny when I go to the
Emergency room for first degree burns.

Remember when Ralph's friend
Got his tongue stuck to the metal pole,
In "A Christmas Story"?
That was me, that was her!

But our together,
Approaching near five years,
Is a Survivor.
Two hurricanes, ******* named
Irene and Sandy,
A divorce from a mean spirited wbitch
That took so long
The Matrimonial Lawyers ***-ociation
Had my portrait painted over their fireplace.

Even the icicles otherwise know correctly as
Her Extremities,
Have not come between us

When my lips kiss her neck,
Surgically remove heart with poetic scalpels,
Hold it, fluttering and with both hands, warm.

Her eyes close, and neuronic messages
Commence firing, telegraphed, messengered,
To the far corners of every Purim Persian province,
Let the wicked witch melting begin,
Commence the holiday of
Her Festivities.

If you think any man,
Could perform said feat of endurance,
You better checkout again the name of the
Man who authored this story,
For his name, with special powers, endowed.
Continue reading...
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2014
My Curator
My Curator

I can't remember,
what I can't remember

new items arrive daily.
name of the restaurant,
where I ate dinner
last night

the name of the movie show
I saw last week,
the last place my glasses
went looking for me,
lucky me, only one key,
hanging around my neck,
easy peasy,
just trying to find which apartment
it's for

I can't remember,
what I can't remember

the first poem ever wrote,
the first poem ever loved,
written conceived while I ever wept,
cause
found some old ones and thought
hey, that kid is pretty good

I can't remember,
what I can't remember
when and how I knew,
what now you know
as well

what matters this, little

quote the kids,
last week is well,
so last week
or even better,
whatever...

yesterday, last week, last year
have all merged,
old men drivers, riding in the slow lane,
where the speed limit signs are reminders
go faster, keep up

the memory surplus, surfeit,
now purged, forfeit,
fear of droning,
my inspirations
grown decrepit,
forces desperate,
less than adequate creativity,  
trying to pour poems Beaujolais,
before they can age,
decant, evaporate,
poisoned by oxygenation
sour turning, stupid smiling,
cause I know you from someplace,
are you a clear and present danger?

I remember plenty
of glimpses and snatchery.,
but the incoming data flow
has strained my 50's circuitry.
these memories, onboarded
now a single product
of a mass hatchery,
all eggs are indistinguishable,
therefore they exist,
therefore I was once

electronic calendar
keeps my schedule,
thus my native personality
type A,
kept in line,
the pills work,
from time to time

so I am
where I was supposed to be,
a necessary
but insufficient conditionality,
pour justifier mon existence

the mission critical stuff,
the weave, the sensibility,
the collections of sensations
of another's hand
on my back as I write,
declining, felt their dying,
having arrived at the
skinny part of the tail
of the normal curve
of natural ability

alas,  alack,
too many poems dying stillborn

I have newly employed
a curator

sadly he (she?) will not
cure me,
nor save my soul,
tho he wears
a collar of white
around his neck,
and a stethoscope
over one wing,
a recorder on the other

his wage dear,
sold him my best jewels

Paying costly
for my Ponzi scheme
of reusing
words previously employed,
deeded ownership of the accidental newbies,
the old ones in the sewing box,
both now his property,
but at least, saved.

I cannot write
the name of what stands between  
you and I,
tween tip of tongue
and visions of past,
but future visions, pace taken,
they will survive
should they arrive again

you reader, you are
a familiar face

are you not my
savior,

My Curator?

10:45 AM
Sept. 3rd, 2012
Labor  Day
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Nat Lipstadt May 2018
why I dedicate poems (jewel for jul just be cause)
for jul**

she asks a-rat-a-tat sensible
peppering of questions;
“why do I give away my poems so easy and so fast, why me”

the answer so readily apparent,
so easy peasy lemon squeezy,
my style is who you are!

every-oft and every-then,
a leader-reader believes my words
so profound so entire so joyful wonderful!
that title passes there and then

a poem without a dedication but a-dressed-up-lovely
without a ^hat,^  missing the zing of panache
that makes its DNA complete, then someone comes along
who loves it so more than enough, placing that rakish angled love with a bejeweled hat pin just so, and that hat makes
the poem so much more, the jewel whispering confirmation
vive la différence!

so a dedication to/is

purest dedication -
exactly!

and this one
a jewel for the poem
for jul
be a
just
be cause






5:47am
<•>
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2103152/your-style-it-is-who-you-are/
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Rachael Stainthorpe Jul 2013
What the F&*k is this Sh^t?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTgCn4qmRvU
Sometimes, i think i knew who you are,
because i build you in my mind,
and this makes you ok.
Like i have looked through the eye-hole
of my handmade gun,
and let you come in.
Though really,
i don't know who the ******* are,
or who the **** i am dealing with.
I don't understand, 'you'.
I don't get why, i have to leave, to walk away,
but yet,
I want you to follow,
even just to ask me if i am ok,
even just as a friend,
and it didn't matter that we had ******, quite a few times.
Did i hurt you?
No, i definitely don't think so.
Do i appear emotionally erratic?
I don't think so, but,
Yes;
because people like you, and before you, before,
used words i don't understand to hurt me,
uttered from their mouths, that they then used to kiss me
and tell me 'it's alright', or 'you're mine', or 'you're beautiful',
and you knew about them,
or am i erratic because i wish to mean nothing more than great ***, wine and food, to you,
but, some kind of respect would be nice;
i mean, i show more love to my hamster, and he can't talk.
What's wrong with that?
I don't mean to reel you in,
and have you;
Indeed i like you a lot,
(sorry liked),
but i don't understand why it is easier to ignore me,
than talk to me,
or is it because,
because you can't feel anything then,
or you handle the madness you created?
Or was it my madness to begin with?
Or was it just you being an emotionally errant piece of work,
who once got your heart broken by someone you unequivocally loved,
and it divided you, and both made you in to the man you are,
So, who are you? Man or mouse?
But also,
is it true that you can't handle the knowing, that, you did this.
To someone you liked.
I know, because you told me.
Because its easier to ignore and pretend it never happened.
That's such an easy play....easy peasy lemon squeezy *******.
You are responsible for your fuckwittery.
You reacted in a emotionally unintelligent childish way,
calling me names, ignoring me, judging me, telling me i had a certain disorder,
(tho you never read Kant, left school at 16, and well, no job, slept around, lived in a fantasy land, anything else? Exhibitionist? Master? OCD?)
**** knows, but i didn't fit in with your world.
'you are a victim, you play it so well, you're looking for a hero'
Now that was a good one,
so good it broke my heart,
and i never even loved you,
but apparently you thought it was ok,
to break another human being, just because you can't handle........what the **** is it?
So now i think i know who you are,
I test you once or twice,
I contact you,
because I like to believe in some insane, maniacal way, we were, ooooh dare i say, friends...?
And the reaction is the same.
So it lends me to believe,
you liked me enough to **** me,
but when you liked me enough to care,
or because i 'would mean something to you',
or 'you don't know me at all',
or did i emasculate you?
and that, it really really, wasn't ok.....
So here is my responsibility taking effect;
I am truly and utterly sorry if anything i did or said hurt/offended you in an invisible manner i knew not of because i didn't know you, and you didn't let me in, for many reasons, (probably the aforementioned heartbreak/or your masculine ego), and i am sorry if i somewhat acted erractic, crazy, stalkerish, because i had no clue as to what was going on or had happened, with us.
Enough?
And, phew, argh,
For something i do not understand,
I see through you,
but me, in my own wonderful way
think you're more than that,
a better person;
but i did not deserve your full on ******* egotistic-defense full on eradicate mode,
(because one of you,
one of you, i really loved.....
but its ok because,
born a rag doll, always a rag doll, isn't that what you said?
To think that, I loved you **** good baby)
'You do it yourself, you do'
That's a good one
And no, I am no more 'mental' than you are a '****'
Think about that as you judge me
on your internet throne
ignoring me on your black book phone.
What the **** is this ****?


Revelation through writing has never been so empowering.
Continue reading...
Christos Andreas Kourtis May 2014
Bag Of Chips
Man sometimes I wonder
would I be better
with a ... yes with a
bag of chips in my hand

Would birds flock to me
or **** on me
give me a tip
about my bag of chips

Some are succulent
some rather greasy
some chips crisp
it's so easy peasy

Bag of chips poets
or something more profound
my sweet chick a dee's
maybe a **** scratcher

(Then wash your hands)

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
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Nikolina Mar 2017
Easy Peasy
Everyone says
"If you really want something, you'll go after it"
But here's the thing,
It just isn't that easy.
Continue reading...
Ma Cherie Oct 2016
Leftover Love For Dinner
We are like
leftover love for dinner
have a bit,
winner, winner,
I have a Magic Kitchen
it's really *******'
& so bewitchin'
so much better the next time,
or prepared inside a rhyme,
add a bit of needed time,
reheated for
when it's breezy
or even freezy,
warm and cheesy
easy peasy
nice & squeezy,
accompanied by
a simple salad
a soft playing ballad

we have some
arugula dressed up
& maple roasted roots
emmmm,
so yummy yummy,
for my tummy,
making yummy memories
& love...

a private room for two,
right here a there is a booth,

in lovely pomegranate vintage dresses,
my lovely silken raven tresses,
lips taste of the sweetest wine,
my tongue & you are intertwined,

followed by
Ben & Jerry's ice cream
Sunday's,
& once again love
on Mondays,
every day with you a funday,
would you be

my love come one day?
? Idk ; )
#iwonder #leftoverlove #beautiful2me #umightbethe1
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Selma Bee Jun 2015
Synonym for Ready; Antonym for Scared
So, they don’t let you know that it’s easy to be ready.
All I hear on the topic, is: steady, or, “ready, Freddy?”

It was so very easy, with myself, to be concerned.
But look at me now, all these things, with which I’m adorned.

Everyone is so easy to be around today
A big change, but a great one, I say.

They seem to look at me, thinking that I’m pulling a stunt.
Although they think I cannot see their worry, I can; they are being rather blunt.

Were I to have been told that being fine would be so easy peasy
I may not have been as concerned about giving in, lemon squeezy.

For once, I ran around and played some games with others out there.
We all were in it to win it; they needed me, to be fair.

Yet, it seems as though they really truly like me.
Maybe myself really is the best thing to be.

Today I laughed, screamed, ran, shouted, had a **** good time
Should anyone ask me, I can only say: It was sublime!

That was yesterday, when I promised to be more daring.
Do not fear, it does not mean I cannot also be caring.

This feeling is so wonderful, so nice.
If it could last forever, man, that would suffice.

I made a wish last night, as I looked up high at the stars,
Please, I asked them, let this last awhile. Let me go far.
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Fah Jun 2015
love is easy
love is easy peasy - letting go
falling to catch the updrift wind

fear is difficult - clinging on
surface level entry wears away,
turns to roots
toxic.

love is easy and requires work
to dig up the fear roots , keep them away

by gliding in the up drift
allowing worries to flit , flutter , float away
because loving is easy
nothing to it at all
natural flow
inside my heart
from last year....just what I needed ...
#love
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alwaystrying Aug 2014
no complaint
through the use of some actions, you've made use of some of my organs
I don't complain
my third finger is claimed long ago by a band of gold
no complaint
your words etched in the wrinkles of my time
easy peasy
now with my legs encased in ice
can't walk

let me be, let me walk, let me breathe, let me be
Banksy said it best.
“When the time comes to leave, just walk away quietly and don't make any fuss.”
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Gods1son Oct 2018
Best of myself
I promise to be the best
I signed myself an oath
In this ocean of life, I will row the boat
It's a cold world, I will keep warm in my coat

It won't always be easy
I don't want the easy-peasy
I will challenge myself
I will dare myself

My biggest competitor would be myself
I will not limit myself
I will encourage myself
I will always be the best version of myself!
Compete with yourself to surpass your previous success.
#best #myself
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My Dear Poet Jan 2022
ttyl
There are so many ways
to say goodbye
‘Hellos’ are but a few
there’s ‘adieu’ and ‘farewell’
just to mention one or two
‘Catch you later
…alligator’
there are much, and many more
of ‘Bye byes’
than of ‘Hi’s’
than a simple ‘Bonjour’

‘See ya’ or ‘See you’
easier said than to cleave
so, ‘So long’
won’t feel wrong
so many ways to see you leave
maybe, it’s because we depart
more often than we come
maybe, “hello” holds no meaning
after it’s said and when it’s done
goodbye could be good but hurtful
for no sorrow in hello you feel
but parting can be painful
so we say ‘Keep it real’

‘ta ta’, ‘toodeloo’
’sorry it’s me…not you’
among the funny things we say
like ‘howdy’, ‘how you?’
‘****-a-doodle-doo’
by early morning on your way
so it’s hasta la vista
see you soon, or cya later
I’d better be along.
take it easy
easy peasy
peace out and stay strong.
#relationships #breakups #goodbyes #culture #language
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AprilDawn Apr 2014
Another day
in the valley
feel no need
to scale any peaks
just easy-peasy
lay  low  
let the long silken rays
drape  my weary soul
in glowing golden glory.
A  location  -place in my life poem .Massachusetts  2007
#zoneout
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Kimi Oct 2017
Arithmetics
Solving for the x. Step by step
Time is clocking theres no time for any misstep
Thought I had been getting ready for these arithmetics
But now I feel like in anesthetics. Maybe it aint in my genetics

These mathematics got me feelin dumb
Aint got energy to solve. Ive been feeding myself of crumbs, been livin in a slum
Aint easy to have the mind in the equations when everything else is off
Balancing these numbers dont go so peasy when all I want to do is tell the world to *******

Because who cares about this x when theres no money in the checkbook
I got more problems than the chapters in this textbook
Hoping all this senseless calculations will improve my situation
But waiting for the future is hard when Im living on a ration

Been working all my hours in exchange for some dollars
All of this cause my momma said the only ones that make it are the scholars
But the work I put in seems to be less than the money I receive.
And it all goes away to the bills. Got barely any left to live.

Divide the provisions and multiply the meals
Make sure that tonights dinner is a bit more than beans
Hope that my body has had enough proteins to keep all this going on
Because it seems my mind is about to shut down.  Dont know if I can find the answer you were hoping for.
#poetry #rap #poor #mathematics #school #university
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Third Eye Candy Jul 2018
you play dead
immortality is easy-peasy. you play dead.

you live now. and simply continue. you just get on with it.
zig-zag in plain sight. like a shimmer in an old daguerreotype.
if you must fade. always do it sideways.
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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
the night prior to crossing the continent
.what the most plush drink i've ever had? well, i'm drinking it now... Tennessee honey liquor by Jackie boy... mm, yum as ****... just ice, no mixer... what do you expect? at 35% vol strength, you're going to enjoy it on its own... mind you... i am going to a country where there are no 37.5% vodkas... 40%: standard.

- but i won't be drinking,
                 odd how i can turn off the drinking
whenever i go back, "home"...
it will be winter, really short days...
limited internet access, or, literally none...
and a 3 volume book i decided
to get through...
   the English language will be turned off,
and i'll be pulverized by
the language, t.v. radio,
everyone around me...
   not a single word of English being
spoken...
         it's nice to get away from
all the Anglophone drama,
whether on the internet with the vloggers,
or anyone for that matter...
small town Poland...
          early nights in the mid-afternoons,
a book, a single lamp light...
mind you... why do people always
choose to read a book on a beach?
how about i sleep in a lit oven?
or next to the radiator with a closed
window?
   i do not claim to be a quick reader,
i don't like reading quickly...
i already talk quickly...
       "slow" reading is so much more
engaging...
   but at least i chose a book that's
just over 1000 pages...
   5 weeks away? yeah, i should be
able to do it...
          what's it about?
the Great Deluge... of Poland...
   by the Swedes, when our aristocratic
democracy, the electoral authority
decided to give the throne to a Swede,
and subsequently his older brother invaded...
a historic epic, fiction, with
a pinch of historical truth...
you could even call it a reading holiday...
i.e. go to a place colder that's much
colder than where you heading out from...
and... make sure you're surrounded
by old people, perhaps your grandparents...
****! i knew i forgot something
when packing...
how am i going to cook them curries
when i haven't packed the spices?!
well... i could gamble on feeling refreshed
with 4 hours sleep...
or i could drink this right here
Tennessee honey liquor...
    lie down for an hour with closed
eyes, to rest them,
but prior to... prepare the spices...
the latter...
                  power naps are for the Japanese...
in their 15 minute hotspots...
oh they have them... sleeping hubs...
**** that sort insomnia diet...
give me a decent 8 and we're cool...
ugh... but the dreaded thought...
i live in relative isolation...
i interact with less people than
i have fingers... on one hand (most of the time)...
the dreaded airport...
the moment i walk into an airport
i just think of... transported livestock...
the liquor will certain take off the edge...
from having to see so many people
all at the same time...
               plus, i've done longer stretches
of staying awake...
dunno... once i might have teased
the 48 hour mark...
but with this beauty of a liquor in me...
bah!                 easy-peasy-Japanese;

and the music i'm taking with me...
on C.D. (oh! the travesty,
employing technology from the 1980s!):

dikanda - muzyka czterech strong wschodu,
żywiołwak - nowa ex-tradycja
wager - an assortment
schumann - fantastic pieces op. 12
beethoven - symphony IX in d-moll op. 125
egberto gismonti - solo
sonic youth - *****
fairport convention - liege and lief
neon neon - praxis makes perfect
queens of the stone age - rated R
!!! - strange weather, isn't it
handel - music for the royal fireworks
water music...

that certainly packs a punch...
now...
         to associated myself
with making portions of relevant
spices for the curries i'll be cooking.
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Arek Oct 2019
Easy Peasy
there has to be an easier way
from this daily grind
before my teeth are worn away
from worries on my mind

before my fingernails are all eaten
right down to the bone
before my face is sad and beaten
looking overgrown

before my dreams become puree
and i on them gag
there has to be an easier way
before i lay an egg
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Christopher Johnson Aug 2014
the little boy who cried life
The little boy who cried life
All he ever wanted was a
Piece of the pie but all
All he ever got was
A life full of lies trying
Trying to materialize
And fantasize coming
With images in his mind
What does he realise?
What does he take from life?
I guess he just has to
Improvise and accept life as it
I guess he has to simplify
And relax and handle his biz
Life didn't come lemon squeezy
Its hard the opposite of easy peasy
Then one day the boy cried he
Said himself this world is a lie
And then he saw as his tears fell
And all he could think to himself is
Life.....
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Cronedrome Sep 2018
Rains Of Pain
Take a walk through twisted ego of black veined demonik witch
Incantation ritual goes one three six and six and six
The writing on the wall spells out some freaky ****** ****
If you dont wanna know
Dont get me started on all this
And yes I found my soul even before I found me ****
Always got to know
Like upside in and madouv it
You think your bustin *****
But ball is easy peasy prey
We go right to, walk through the source
And decide it we wanna stay
Or not
Ye show me what you got
Im waiting on the sound
But all I hear is Tick Tick Tok
****
This *****
On any poisoned ***
Bending all those knees
For big sky daddy’s poxy ****
Its sick
And sad
But **** it thats too bad
Gotta smash your little brain
In cleansing flame and rains Of pain
Dont waste my time with ******* games
I need the right kind of insane
Gotta learn how to sustain
Never afraid to take the blame
Yes
We in
There's only one way out
So get the party started
What the **** is this about
Im a’courtin all my envy
And im stroking all my doubts

So meet me at the pearly gates
With cleansing flame and Rains of pain
#jesus #watta #*****
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KZ Aug 2014
//E N O U G H.
There once was a knife,
That almost took a life.
For a deed that she did,
She then hid.

Escaping the world of hate,
She was to follow fate.
But the path wasn't easy,
Certainly not easy peasy.

She saw the eyes of the dead,
With ***** of fury on her head.
Anger was far from what she was feeling,
The baleful wounds that needed healing.

But the wounds were too deep,
Even with every weep.
But it was time though,
For the show.

To face her final fate,
That was unfortunately was filled with hate.
She took one last glance at herself before taking the knife,
But this time it took a life.
her life.
Hello please like and comment.
Please tell me some ideas and be sure to follow if you want me to check put your lovely poems.
Thanks.
-Khizara
#suicide #harm #sad #life #death #depressed #die #bad #reflection #selfhate
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Dennis Willis Apr 2019
Hate Red
There's something about hatred
so ****
so seductive
so satisfying
so simple
easy peasy
I hate you

Are you feeling me
judgemental you
evaluating these lines with wine
I hope

Red is the thing here
to capture you
your feel on this
offended?

Feeling nothing more than feelings
hooked on red, aren't we?
easy now
let's not be *****

this death you wish upon me
gripped
clenched
life needs death
don't be ashamed
you want mine

exhort yourself

past me
past my
strings of things
past my body

rotting on hello poetry
stinking to high rhythm
filled with glee
or is that anger

******* seems to rise
unbidden -oh what a word
you tsk-tsk
a line

and death is your friend
not me
I ******' hate you
nothin' personal

just that you breathe
and think
to angst
every syllable

I am smitten
with you
your reading
and these electrons flowing between us



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
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