http://hellopoetry.com/poem/759808/nat-lipstadts-mood-swings/


'ᏰέƦẙḽԃṏሁ's the most "unappreciated" poet on this site.
Being "misunderstood" is what gets him into a fight.
Now that I'm retired and free,
He's the new "King" of HP ~
Now I hate that Jew because he's better and right.
All words in quotes are Nat's. His changes his opinion of me every second like the eyes on a Felix the Cat clock.
I love him but I've given up on him.

-------------------
Poor man he believes his own totally manufactured press. Oy!

Why does he obsess over me?
Ask him, not me...

Why does write me in pvt messages to tell me I am "delusional" and he is by page view,  the Emperor(!) of HP and that
"you've become an embittered man and can counted yourself among the cursed.
And if you've chosen not to read this, it's because your blinders are still on.I wish you well as a fellow Jew; as a poet I welcome you're  extinction for your inability to adapt."

Whoa! Is he worse than Ormond, who only wanted to "burn" us together!  Extinction now that is  a code word makes  every Jewish person's hair curly,

The humorous answer would have the
Lew I like laughingly say "***** envy!"

adapt to his standards, of ******* up and publishing outrageously bad poems sux times a day - no babe, those things are not standards


instead he is he is committing a error of sinat chinam, empty hatred...

"Sinat chinam means groundless hatred. (The verb soneh means to hate, as in the command lo tisnah at ahicha blevavecha, do not hate your brother in your heart, Leviticus19:17)

Chinam comes from chen, grace. Sinat chinam is therefore hatred that is gratis. It refers to the internecine strife which is unfortunately too common in Jewish communities, whether between Reform and Orthodox, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, the rabbi and the chazan, the president of the shul and the board.

You could charitably ascribe its existence to the high-stakes decisions that Jewish communities have had to make, or to a persecuted people internalising the hatred directed at them, and then projecting it against other groups of Jews. (emphasis mine).  Either way, there is clearly too much of it about.

The Talmud already knew of the phenomenon and its destructive effect on Jewish life. Yoma 9b records that the First Temple was burned down because of idol worship, ****** immorality and bloodshed. At the time of the Second Temples destruction, the Jews were, on the other hand, pious but the Temple was lost because sinat chinam, groundless hatred, was endemic to Jewish national life."

But since he is self acclaimed Shakespeare expert,
I'm sure  he is familiar with this riposte:

The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
‘T is mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown:
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthronèd in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.

Merchant of Venice

More would be superfluous...sure glad he loves me, imagine if he didn't!

what waste of a good poetry skills... this is getting snoring,
boring... So let's bring some appropriate lyrics with which to conclude:

"You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You're so vain, I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? don't you?"

Carly Simon - You're So Vain Lyrics

He didn’t see me
I’m depressed
He sees me smiling,
I’m repressed.
I wanted to be his only one
He said stay blessed
But I’m the only one
Cleaning up this mess

He didn’t love me to leave her and be mine
He didn’t want me for more than half time
He kept switching and kept coming back and forth
He kept playing and leaving me in limbo
I stayed true to him, I never lied
Why can’t he see me be by his side
This half baked love has a shelf life

I tried my hardest to make him be mine
He just didn’t see me in that light
Good for a side, good for a small time
Never enough to be his life
Wife. He never cared to live up to his promises,
It’s true, I’m not turning into his wife
He never loved nor he cared
It is beginning to become a hard life.

I’ll leave him, I’ll move on to better skies
No more internalising his lies
I wanted love and security
This was turning a difficult time.
I’ll be gone, I promise I won’t pine
He is the last person who could be mine
Don’t need him, don’t care
Walking out is better than living a stupid lie.

She was a strong figure
Not a manly or womanly type
But emotionally strong.
She held a smile all along
While internalising the pain
That kept herself feeding
Her own anguish to the point
that she wasn't herself,
but she held her head up high,
and lived life without a single sigh,
facing troubles head on.

She was a strong figure
Or so I thought
As I awoke to find
Scribbled across the cold
Hard cement ground,
In chalk it read
"I'm done as promised,
I love you mum, dad
& Kevin".
News came much after,
And the fruits carried
From the growing tree
Were anything but laughter.

Existence, consciousness ..

who are we and what do we do ..
A puff out .. a drag of cold air, racing .. racing .. head full of existential thoughts  . ..
Living, a wine glass .. a shot of warmth down my throat  . . Emotions these running flow of consciousness .. why do I think it all ?

Lying, in the dark .. an athem of sort, in silence reforms .. ideas and lack of them .. and thoughts, a void is born !

Internalising emotions .. finding my thoughts so alive in this darkness  ..
Hurriedly may I pass away to a lack of form ..

Insanity .. beckons me .. and what more can I do but nod .. meaning, I seek meaning. And not an iota of cognition is ever got.

Tired, I am tired of life as I know it, the bones ache, the thoughts become nonsensical and we deliver as we are meant to .. not very sure, not very sound .. in the air . . drifting slowly, and surely .. towards an end.

What is this eternal rack of hell that we are accustomed to... What is this longing for something that has passed us far by .. who am I even, floating aimless .. who are we, under our skin tight hides.

Disaster in the waiting, a last beacon calls to the inward eye .. and I see, albeit shrouded in dark .. nothing. Alas, no meaning.. an absurd, surreal delusion called Life.

Somedays I wrote words
but letters slipped away
lost beyond my grip
reaching and fetching

Somedays I wrote words
then shoved them away
uncased under the bed
searching and vexing

Somedays I wrote words
letting emotions prevail
as the cord strangled  
levelling and curling

Somedays I wrote words
presented with numbers
joints of joy and peace
trespassing and pleading

Somedays I wrote words
as a moniker hiding phases
a face on my lost arms
materialising, internalising

Somedays I wrote words
of a deep reflective past
and a sickening existence
passing days, pressing mazes

Today I don't want to hide
neither compartmentalise
nor capitalise the future
It's all the now, the me

I tried to be a man that's patient:
someone kind and calm,
open and understanding.
Someone who felt other’s pain
who didn't let it turn him cold.

You see, their lack of trust
wasn't entirely their fault...
they grew up stunted:
watching their father
abuse their mother.

Or, in his absence they grew up
without him ever there:
erratic, extreme emotions;
thunderclouds of anger,
thus implanted self-hatred.

Then he would return, amusing,
funny - the centre of attention.
Other times he was miserable
or an erratic, manic-obsessive,
a hopeless compulsive mess.

Their mothers stayed quiet
took the lashings, the outbursts
to keep the fragile peace,
while they internalising them,
kept feeling it was their fault.

Innocent, naive, hurt, numb
always feeling like a stranger.
Home?  a war zone where
words were irrational, erratic
weapons of mass destruction.

They learned to hurt others
to protect themselves.
They witnessed human weakness;
the unreliable became friends,
the consistent the enemy.

They grew shy and reserved
couldn't stand the spotlight
their skins  made them anomalies
spectacles, defectives, tattooed
victims with emotional scars.

Rejected by the outside,
no place to call a home
let alone a safe haven.
They numbed every inch of pain,
outcasts. Or so they  thought.

Once in a while their anger
would burst out unexplained,
their heart would pound and
their body would shake
over the slightest inconveniences.

Their  thoughts expressed:
"Am I like:my father?
Bipolar, violent, irrational?"
Often flooded their minds.
I believed their words – empathised.

“I deemed myself unworthy
of consistency, reliability,
happiness, trust and love.
I preyed on the weak
they reminded me of my mother.

I destroyed my body
with any drug or liquor
that I could get my hands on.
Denying myself of food,
Starving myself of love.”

For years and years and years,
I helped them stumble  upon peace:
once I explored the inner crevices
They surrendered to the war within
and stopped abusing themselves.

Years of therapy.
Countless hours of running
notebook after notebook
Of poetry and musings,
they learned to let go and love.

The trouble, you see
is often lack of self-love:
my perceptions revealed it.
They finally learned to trust:
I've fought one hell of a battle.

I was a Social Worker.

TOBIAS.

Way back in my day all men were real men,
We weren’t scared to help we weren’t insecure,
We were all open books but just make sure
You don’t look to come to me for advice,
About mental health or about your vice.
I’m here for you let’s be crystal clear.
I can help you if your car can’t change gear,
Or if you have a problem with the steer,
If it fails to start when you turn the key,
I’m here man, don’t worry, I have jump leads.
I told you, man, I’m always here for you,
Just don’t get the situation confused,
I don’t mean to be insincere or rude
But that feelings stuff is a load of muck.
Life is always rough, so men must be tough,
We like girls, cars and explosions and stuff,
We like fighting, football and monster trucks.  
We like manly-men, men-who-don’t-feel-men,
Not as in men who don’t like to feel men,
More men-who-can’t-express-how-they-feel-men.


When I was young I was the biggest fan of being “a man”,
Of being strong and never crying, because that is wrong.
Of football games and internalising pain from things that "shouldn’t hurt".
Until one day when I was sitting on my bed,
I was crying, and not because I banged my head,
Or not because of what someone said,
Or not because that character in Toy Story was dead,
But for no reason.
I just felt sad.
My Mother came in the door, looked at me,
And swore that everything was okay.
I said “I’m sorry for crying,
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,
I just feel upset.”
She said, “Son, there hasn’t been a man yet
Who hasn’t cried because they were sad,
Most of them just don’t say.”
And see I cried in my mothers arms that day,
And I don’t see how that could have done me any harm,
To know that when I feel upset it is okay to cry.
We don’t have to put up a front and try
To act like “men” and seem just fine
When in reality we’re constantly balancing on a line
Between fear of people’s perception of us as soft
And having our emotions engulf us and finding ourselves lost.
Our culture causes confusion for little boys
Who think they have to play with army toys
And get in fights with other tikes to show their “manliness” and might,
Until their spite builds up inside them, so tight,
That it explodes down the line
When we say we’re fine
But really inside exists a mine of insecurity.
Because toxic masculinity is a sin to me
And leads to bigotry and other stupidity like
Rigidity and conformity to chauvinistic and sexist normalities.

interconnected
internalising
interwoven
interaction
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