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Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
The number of noise complaints in the City of New York exceeded 750,000.
<•>

that
does not
of course
include the
shrieks and screams of the
unfriended,, unloved, overwhelmed sad l~one~lys
that have the courtesy
uncommon
to add their cries of the heart
that are best stated, sung & satiated & even sated
ever so
s i l e n t l y


but their trembling tears

!howl!
Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
“Mariners should alter plans to avoid these hazardous conditions. Remain in port, seek safe harbor, alter course, and/or secure the vessel for hazardous conditions.“
<•>
these governmental agencies
a veritable,, gala of cords of words,
have an urgency that is an
unintended poetry capture


the hazards of life
and their associated cruelty
oft brings out
the very finest of the best of us,
lurking in the innerest depths
we studiously avoid
lest we be embarrassed or
tearfully fulfilled


Remain in port!
(venture forth to save a life,
even your own)

Seek safe harbor!
(secure your internal best)

Alter course!
(there isn’t a single path,
that doesn’t consist of
thousands of minute
course corrections)

Secure the vessel!
(the first commandment,
your primary obligatory
to your first, the us, the rest)

for the most hazardous conditions
you’ll face,
are your own self-imposed
roadblocks and diversions,
overcome these is the hardest,
but success is freeing in a way
that makes you love this
ephemeral, always refining
de~fining yet obtainable potion
of
honest/to/goodness

true freedom

addendum
———-
discard, ignore
be wary of
those who fallback
on icebergs of curses
sandbag of ice Shoals
beneath the water surface
and when  they,
reduced to bile infected  
falling back on vulgarities and curses,
this the mist removal
line should never crook
or cross
Let them sink below the waterline for their talent is compromised, and they fail to understand and comprehend that poetry is intended to inspire
the commonality
that blends this potpourri of
im ourinternational collective who
value the collective spirit that informs our poetry

oh yeah
“**** my dck”
fouls this temperate commune
of politesse architecture here,
wounding us all

give us no more these

badwordsoffensive*
worse, tools of the
poorly pathetic thumb of the inarticulate,
in one so talented
2/18/25
Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
a slip and fall, busted up face,
an ambulance ride, cute young
docs, a his and her, in a busy ER
always apologizing for causing
any pain, and now again, in
another waiting room for the
specialist surgeon to,

make reperfect what was imperfect
naturally, seasoned and aged,
a face lovely and decanted,
a nice blush, though she looks now
a fresh mugging victim

and here I am, thinking about
all the waiting rooms in a long
life that I’ve called home, a temporal
temple abode, for waiting, praying
and now surmising and now, even for
composing

let’s not talk of bland, pastel colors
way past the over limit of blandness,
acoustic tile ceilings water stained,
and “leatherette”  furniture,
that no else ever wanted in their
life, all sent off to die in the classical,
traditional rooms for waiting

births, deaths, diagnoses, verdicts
delivered, way stops on a traveling
life
Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
a statement, a viewpoint directive, a casual formailty,
it says much about you, but is most telling, that, you,
took the time to debate how you wished to be percieved,
by the masses of humanity, as
  tucked of untucked?


for by it, you communicate your chosen philosopy of life
Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
~ for bulletcookie, who taught me a knew word~

you might guess the meaning,
no need to dictionate,
but by way of explique, what the hell,
may you always be,
Rebelent
Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
“stanza” like “camera”, in Italian,
means room,

the stanza is a room, avail&able
for any purpose,
but I understand it best as a storage place,
to be rented, renovated, refurbished and
redecorated, a part of your building,
and even, eventually, demolished…

the poetry is not lost on me, though I feel
foolish for my illiteracy, the last to know,
the obvious symmetry of a perfect latent metaphorical meta physicality…

then, for a stanza to run free is an
impossibility, for what purpose is it
containment functionality if it were
to run forever, failing to demarcate
needed boundaries, open to the outdoors
of air and light, allowing its contents
to escape freely…

or worse
go on endlessly…

so I reconfigure my entirety as mansion,
each poem a dwelling unit, each stanza,
a room there in, purposed, and oft connected
to an adjacent adjoining neighbor, througjh
an empty spacing, a camera if you will, to
vision a connective conjunction, a separate tissue bit of similar original cells
2/18/25
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