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My life was
an open book.
You just forgot
to read a few chapters.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 6
nope.
an amalgmator, consolidator, a sifter,
a synthesizer, combinator, employer
of words

collect, analyze, repair, modify,
discern the overlapping, intersecting rhythms, the tools,

Drip from my lips, fall from of my grip, from my eyes, salty drip,
and I nail them to my bones,


herein lies my originality....
The millions upon millions of permutations combinations and iterations
That resolved themselves from the madness of my mind, are then attached to my living bones, inseparable, and my living mark of once existence
Avril
31😉  ~May
2025
  Jun 6 Nat Lipstadt
Meggi
Do you still eat your toast like I do
Around the edges first, until there is only the soft bit in the middle
Do you scan the line for the club
Peer into shop windows, cafe windows, bedroom windows
When you’re falling asleep in the dark do you wonder if you’ll dream of me
Does Bukowski remind you of me
Does Rodriguez
Does your father
Do you still laugh like you did with me
Do you still eat eggs with mayonnaise
Wear stripes and bows and the red canvas trousers
Do you still eat your toast like I do
Around the edges first, until there is only the soft bit in the middle
Do you still eat your toast
The way you consumed me
  Jun 2 Nat Lipstadt
rick
when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2
I approach this subject with expertise,
for the economy of brevity
is not my forte,
indeed my natural tendency
is to never use
one
when three words seem
so more additional  expressive


but,
economy is to my taste
when delving into the emotional,
which as a poet poseur
seems incongruous

but the verbal deliciousness of
a well chosen phrase,
that one can roll on their tongue,
looking for subtle notes like a good wine,
is a sensory delight,
a provoking nugget of
an alliteration of the senses,
that seeps into your interior,
gladdens the soul,
worthy of jig, or even a
hot **** expletive,
demanding many more
sippings

it may require an ooh and an ah,
and the loosening of teary eyed
moisture,
the acceptance of
acceptance?

the  spreading of a satisfactory warmth in-the places that
welcome heat, allowing both
head smacking grinning,
or deep emotive gestures
to form upon your normally repressed status
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2
~for she who knows ~
<>
The word "likeability" is spelled L-I-K-E-A-B-I-L-I-T-Y., though the inhuman spelling master of this site, deems it a misspelling mistake, condemning it to live in red, and offering up no replacement

<>
it is that time of night, which is also
a time of early day, when dark silence prevails, except for the excessive rumbling of the our old little cottage's environmental devices gut rumbling while laboring to condition our atmosphere

our atmosphere;
is my brain on fire at 2:30am,
with new conceptuals, many contradictory, racing in and about my brain all begging to
write me first, while the mental fluids are juiced, and words are finger pecked into existence with a maddening slowness

but this one,
re likeabilty has risen to the fore,
because it is the last to be born,
and seems therefore claiming precocious precious preeminence

not a quality I deem much in my owned possess, but one easy discerned in others and delicious delighting to the human souls who
recognize it instantly by the smiling comfort of its parfume

what I like about like about likeability is it's a pleasing scent,
that aerosol invades a room and
spreads like a virus of happy,
quite contagious to we old curmudgeons,
who by nature feel put upon by
our aging equipment, and the daily struggle to maintain it, and the forces to countervail it ,
are endless and not cheery by nature

So
I am enlivened and enriched,
engaged and effervescent,
when youthful patois,
direct and with little boundary,
radiates the human existential,
and light shines upon my soul,
awakening in me
an optimistic countenance!

perhaps I exaggerate,
confusing youthful energetic optimism
for a condition,
and not merely a demeanor,
but I rethink upon it,
snd decidedly decide
this for real, this is genuine,
and by its very natural nature
(a lotta nats in nature)
its openness, unguarded,
refreshes and moisturizes
our skins,
internal and external

this special quality is not universal,
or else there would be peace on earth (ain't happening),
but those who have it,
who think beyond privilege and
privacy,
but intuitively,
offer up to all
a pleasantness
rich and original,
will write an indelible script
upon the world
for the better

I like it.
3:05M
June 2
2025
Nat Lipstadt May 31
~Primus inter pares~
(first among equals)
<>
the risks
the aspirations
the trial and erroring of
outrageous under appreciation

the silence,
the unabashed frustration
of our inability to right express
the exact precision needed to redress the pile of self~unsatisfying drafts
that need the evermore honing, whittling
curettage of accumulated filing
repeated nip and tucking

T his!
makes us all
first amongst equals,
we,
who throw ourselves again and
again, at Henry's urging
"once more into the breach"
we foot soldiers who but toil alone in grande silence until we satisfy our innermost creativity
are all so alike
all of
^firsts^
among
equals
in this grande society of
poetry addiction!
5-31-25
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