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when you can see the peaks,
know
your not there

and yet…
  Feb 24 Poetoftheway
Nat Lipstadt
To:  Patty m. and Steve,
cc:   Q

Re: what’s a mediocre man to do,

(freshly mind washed by the
requisite hours of deep sleep,
that washed away the webs
and dreads of yesterday’s
factoids, lactoids, and brain plaques(

so he can perchance, begin again,

(with fresh slate, white chalk screeching
on a freshly sponged whiteboard
~
(or blackboard when he rues the
upcoming with dreaded calendar
notifications notarized notations of
dead lines)


You see Stevie,
this piety poetry piercing of the soul,

(is a daily face washing, soul scrubbing
of two spies (MadMe vs  Metwo) both madder ‘n hell that life has ***-signed him a nother bothersome empty day with the curse
of justifying his existence)

oh yeah baby,
it’s a contest, a contest within,

(and i am appointed and  disappointed to be
the Sec’y of the Interior who has the key to
the broom closet, and is/in charge of his
own corners cleanup, and besides a broom,
he ain't got no tools but stale words and he’s gotta figure out nice smelling new combos to
justifying his occupying his
siloed-sole-soully space place)

in the uni(as in sole, one)verse

universe verse, get it?
445am Monday Monday
  Feb 22 Poetoftheway
Cné
His colloquy, vintage, rich and bold
Unveiling nuances, young and old
Subtleties dance, like fireflies at night
Whispered innuendos, a gentle, sweet delight

His flavor, a lingering caress
Savoring bliss, in each
tender address
In this sensory waltz, entwined
A delicate balance of taste and design

Where words become wine,
and wine becomes art
Relentless aftertaste, a deliberate
imprint on the heart
Surrender.  
Lose. Give in.

chance it all.
throw caution
against the wall,
watch its greasy
sliding downwards,
at first resisting gravity,
and then submitting to
the power, the Overwhelming
hopefulness
of love

yes, winning is a dangerous feeling.

Sometimes you gotta go all-in,
slide those chips, slow across
the green felt poker table.


Prefer thoughtful consideration,
a preponderance of favorable yeses,
longer than the maybes and the last list
of occasional, dangerously
self defeating mmmms,
and the exciting  unknowns
needy of unlocking
places you’ve never been,
lairs of dark uncovered by
fresh first time daylight

when the smile criss crossing
the body entire, a chilled fire,
when sensibility strives to
overcome the senses,
it is a checkered flag of yellow
cards to floor fallen,
let them be

slow breathing, check your
heart rate, blood pressure,
do not give the results to
a sympathetic cardiologist,
if results are higher than
normal
because you are,
good.

you know the rest,
all in, all in,
surrender to
beat of I am
am in,
all in

and sprite~write an only true love poem
send to but one,
yourself,
signed

yours truly*

P. S.  And never forget,
that you learn best,
you learn the most
from all your failures.
Sun 11/26 am
1/26/25
in the b.t
nyc
I’m a Bengali in sombrero
An Indian from Kolkata
I live at a stone’s throw
From where flows the Ganga.

I speak in Bengalee
For me the sweetest language
Like the Ganga flows freely
Has Sanskrit as lineage.

Rice is my staple food
So are dal and fish
A cup of tea is too good
With two biscuits on a dish.

Around me spreads green countryside
Where grows all the foodgrain
Rivers flow wild and wide
Their banks home joy and pain.

I was born and reared in this riparian land
Where soil is tilled in peasants’ sweat
Sparkles in moon the Bay’s white sand
Weaving dreams for many a poet!
  Feb 22 Poetoftheway
Nat Lipstadt
(whimsy - playfully quaint or fanciful behavior or humor)


——
recent events, minor tumults, additive,
the summing up of wearing,
a slip and fall, financial reverses,
communiques misunderstood,
clanking pipes resounding against
a sonorous soundless soulful sleep, and
the
unrest of disinterest in essaying
thoughts into words into creativity

a far far cry from singing of the whimsy
in life that teases and delights, replaced
by a weariness from the whiners,
who craftily abuse, with deft badly
prosed propaganda propositions,
seeking solace in solitude + add-an-all-inability to forsee the goodness in people,
delimiting desire to inspire, why then
compose when so decidedly decomposing?

lay the ownership of pen-man-ship down
until dealt an inside straight, eyedrops
that open wide, dilate into a wider perspective, a kinder me, and the
patience of a patient awaiting a
healing vaccine against the flu
of whining. so awfully communicable,

will read Whitman, Frost, and those
revolutionary Persians who ken the
revivification of spirit, return from a
there as a refugee
to a refreshed refuge
of here
                            nml

Addendum
———
the chill in the body that’s so
invasive, resisting two sweaters,
a coat named “The De~icer,”
over heavy sweats,
the interior is

frostbitten
Poetoftheway Feb 8
***!
books coming at me faster than ever,
interesting intellectual intelligence,
could spend the whole day in bed,
my mind growing growling explosively
muscles blowing up behind my ears,
my scalp is hairless, all nutrients 100%
redirected by gushing arteries to handle the info influx inflammation, and the bedsores
moving on up to the eagles perch, where
the action is greatest!

write? writing?? WTFW?
who, who you, wanna do that,
if it can't be told in ten secs or less,
it doesn’t qualify as worthwhile

ohshite, that guy who runs HP
sending me a message!!!
“You are using up too much bandwidth
with this crispy crap,
excessively long in length,
one more, we will ban your scripts
beyond the prison of your own mind!”


cool
more time for my million followers on
Shmucke Tok
fk u
& u & u
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