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Nat Lipstadt Feb 15
You are so kind.  
Thank you with all the
resolve
in my heart.”

J.V.

<>

A thank you note,
for a simple shining-of-light,
stuns me into inspiration,
deep chested thrombosis consternations and calculations,
palpitations of the boom-boom variety,
signaling the onset of  intracranial contractions
of a new birth~poem
aborning…

who of us these days,
speaks of the resolve in our hearts?
who of us free confesses deep natured thanks,
it is almost too old fashioned.

it is powerful.
it is a thanks that
powers the wattage sufficiency
to light up a city entire,

and even though inward focused,
it yet is shedding Moses-like
light beams
heavenward,
I wrack my heart to even comprehend,
that simplest of actions reciprocal:

1/Thank You

can it, (it can!)
steel the heart,
give its truthfulness a special
power, and more than resolve,
even solves
our equation solution

so elegantly is the endless searching for the
right way to give thanks, to receive thanks,
it is a mutual gifting, for our mutuality is of
two hearts, echoing the words of
all legislative bodies:

”Be it Resolved”

what is this resolution then?

the consummate of English words
with such a variety of shadings,
requiring a declarative,
not a narrative,
consummation

be it resolved,
that two resolute hearts
shall not depart this Earth
before their arms interlocute an
embrace,

the shadows of their eyes interlock,
casting away
interfering long distances,

a single atmosphere shall
be tasted, inhaled,
by their
combinatory sensories

then and only then:
their resolve tested
and surpassed
will their poem

commencé et terminé,
begun and completed

The Emotion is Carried




<<>>
“*The gender-neutral name Jamadhi comes
from Arabic origins, meaning “beauty.”
When thinking about all the beautiful
things in the world, your little one, with
their kind demeanor and bright smile,
no doubt springs to mind! But a name
simply meaning “beauty” doesn’t only
refer to their appearance. This name
is a reflection of their beautiful little
soul, too, on a journey through this world.
Baby Jamadhi could be a gentle soul
or the fiercest of little childon the playground,
but no matter what, a name meaning
“beauty” will always ring true.”
there is a plurality in the times
for I cannot stop for death
it cannot stop for me
and I hear the roar of silent space
as it  hears the roars of me
driving one towards
visionary liberation
like a frenzied shaman
in his dance
deranging sensories to be found
yet still known in this trance
and punishment for poetry is not new
nor is the strangling of my hair
for we are all solitaries
placed, situated, somewhere
so I wish I was in Zanzibar
to walk upon its sand
to feel the impressions of words
explode within my hands
and to drink all the ink
that baths upon me and calls itself anew
it is the shimmer of this violet haze
that echoes in my view
Ben Sep 2019
You're the poetry that became reality.

---------

You make my sensories wild.
Couldn't think of a name, perhaps you can help me out. It's been a minute since I've written and I love them both separately yet together. Made them within 3 hours of each other!
Fallen Angel Sep 2015
Dreams: a succession of images, sensations and feelings;
what you see while you're sleeping at times concealing a deeper meaning.
Intervening our evenings leaving us thinking;
clinging to a believing that they're healing or deceiving.
Lickety split I try to fit it to a reason why I had it
but I couldn't grasp it in time cuz it faded like the latest fad and
I don't know whether to be mad, sad or glad.
But it ain't so bad because I remember just a tad of it.
In my surrealistic world, you felt so real;
feeling you on my skin is an appealing ordeal.
Though it might sound insane, I'm not gonna complain
because I only feel the pain when I'm finally awake.
When you spoke, it opened my broken soul and
stole a major component from the mind of this poet.
My heart and soul know it; your love's just so potent.
Focused on what you spoke telling me, "I love you." Whoa..
Chills down my spine, now I'm on cloud nine;
wish I was confined to this divine design.
Wouldn't hesitate or decline cuz I know you would be all mine;
I'll no longer need this red, red wine. Let's fly
high in the sky, just you and I.
Baby, don't cry; let me dry your eyes.
Where you going? Don't say bye.. Where you going? Thought we were fine..
Now darkened are the skies...
Nightmares: a version of a dream designed to scare
or create feelings of sadness, anxiety and despair
from scenarios containing psychological or physical terror
impairing our state of mind as we lay unaware of it.
A deer in the headlights; I'm frozen in fear
unclear of what happened here and why you disappeared.
We finally came together, my dear,
now my tears are searing my face; please reappear.
Maybe I've gone completely crazy
but I miss you, baby; I need your kiss, my lady.
It feels like Hades turned the heat up to eighty
thousand degrees and now my visions getting hazy.
Morality's getting feeble in this inferno cathedral;
surrounded by this deceitful evil, it's lethal
injections from these needles filled with diesel and beetles.
How did I get this far away from our peaceful sequel?
But this synergy from my memories helped me fight off all these enemies
and believe me when I say that the reality from this jeopardy
had generally ******* me mentally because it felt like it took a century
for these entities to expertly **** with my nocturnal slumber sensories.
And I feel so alone
in this combat zone but when I looked down below,
to me, it's still unknown the emotion I had shown
when I saw the word "love" engraved on a broken tombstone...
island poet Feb 2020
The Thew Of Phantasmagoria



<for Sanders Maurice Foulke III>

The Thew Of Phantasmagoria

the muscles of the brain, design bridges, author poems, obviously
the strongest force upon the Earth, whence & where the powerful
coiling of our mortal coexistence energies be stored & unleashed

muscles summon previous unknowns, establishing neural connectivity
between colliding galaxies, undiscovered planetary rings, using kinetics
to create a vocabulary for the express purpose of astounding creation

the modest only dare inquire of themselves in wondrous silence
how came this thematic landscape, new language, to escape my
optics, my ken, my viewfinder, purview,  essential essence sensories?

the deniers claim magic lanterns, optical illusions, love, par example,
they ascertain, a chemical imbalance stimulates the sensorineural,
mocking those who believe the comet’s tail visible wags its orbital path

this poem abstruse, yet full of truths, a working man’s lunch pail
full of fine china chicanery, fooling those who observe only exteriors,
but we who live on bounded islands recognize safe passages available

when the thew of the phantasmagorical is debunked, acknowledging
that for something to be truly true, it must be agreed upon by two,
thus creating a language clarifying even if it’s punctuated by shadows



621pm 23-2-2020
IP lmn
Phoenix Rising May 2015
I forgot I was human,
forgot days were different,
forgot sensories were enhancing,
forgot emotions added depth,

I forgot because I got caught up in it
Dead Rose One Nov 2023
“Whatever happened to Tuesday and so slow?” ^ or
Absolute Absolution



<>

the slow Tuesday fragrance fills the nostrils,
Van Morrison in my earbuds, reminding that
“This Must Be What Paradise Is Like!

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…”

Sea salt spray spicy sauces the atmosphere,
Many boats, some silent, noisy too, transverse the eyelids,
entertainment of the vista, decorating time’s motionless motion

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…

the voluble hush, delightfully confuses mes sensories,
noisy cacophony orchestral avians, waves, and a human voice,
punctuate the music, absolute absolution of mes sensoriels

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…
Indeed, it is a Tuesday, and the slow of the surround sound,
vanilla spotted with rainbow sprinkling of the noise of life,

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…,
so full, so rich,
so vast the strands of colored variegated, perpetual motionlless
moves me to tears, steals my emotional refuse,
I too,

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…inside of me…







~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~—————-~~~~


(1) Lyric from Brown Eyed Girl, Van Morrison
"What can I say"
said the wind to no man
it just is and has to be
like fires on the beach
with cool family you found
under a jar of blinky gravity
systematically tearing at our reality
supersymetrically
super intentionally
wheeling grace, the never withers,
slithers through our childhoods
like a puppy you can't help but pet.
knowing that life might be just a smile
on a dead man
an illusion
substitution for what is "supposed" to be?
And the secret to being happy is bared to us
like the perfect answer to a
Cards against Humanity question.
To see the beauty in this perfect clockwork.
we live in
believe in
see in this, human perception is broken we say.
It shouldn't be this way we plead.
We can't see such a thing as our universe.
Not as it truly is.
We have designed simulation sensories
to interact with its perfection,
biologically.
Can you see, what drives us, pushes us,
is the universe!
this multiplicity of energy
the true enigma of the soul
this soul
Nat Lipstadt May 2023
“Whatever happened to Tuesday and so slow?” (1)
or
Absolute Absolution

Tuesday May 30 2023

<>

the slow Tuesday fragrance pleasures the nostrils,
sweet gravelly Van Morrison in my earbuds, reminding

“This Must Be What Paradise Is Like!
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…”

Sea salt spray spicy sauces the near-quiet atmosphere,
many boats, some silent, some-not-so, transverse the eyelids,
entertainment by-the-vista, decorating time’s languid etching of ever slowing motionless motion

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…

the voluble hush, delightfully confuses mes sensories,
noisy cacophony orchestral avians, waves, and a human voice,
punctuate the music of perfect sentence like a period,

absolute absolution of interwoven sundry near sounds
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…


Indeed, it is a Tuesday,
and the slow of the surround sound,
vanilla white w. merest spotted rainbow sprinkling

of the noises of life

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…so full, so rich,
so vast the strands of colored variegated, perpetual motion
less the emotion, less the raucous caucus of exclamation,
moves me to tears, steals my emotional refuse,
I
too refuse
all except the harmonies of my peace
and the layman accepts the accents of
Absolute Absolution

So quiet in here, so peaceful in here…inside of me…







~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~—————-~~~~


(1) Lyric from Brown Eyed Girl, Van Morrison

— The End —