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Nat Lipstadt Oct 2023
The “little” Art I Possess

~writ for, inspired by, and warmly dedicated to
Kelly Rose Saccone~

“So an artist does…They say that often when you fill your walls with art you often forget it’s there and you don't absorb its beauty, but I enjoy what little art I have everyday. Sometimes it is just the color or the passion that hits me anew when I look at them.”
KRS

<~>

long ago the new~knowledge,
“newlodge” came brewing~infusing me;
art was not capable of being possessed

my reversal~eyes opened
the senses over~fulfilling,
body sensations brimming,

for I was the container,
only in temporary possession!

the art, in whatever the day’s chameleon guise,
is the professor-possessor, I am the missionary~emissary
remaindered by-product,
just
the vassal~vessel

when to gaze upon a poem~creation of years ago,
my expected mistakes appeared, a wee pride,
largesse of satisfaction, but these are frailties,
weaknesses, human misperceptions,
human ill-delusions!

never

ever was a poem among my possessions,
it was “in-sighted” within me
what was placed in my cupboard,
stored by my sensual conduits,
mine only to covey, not to covet,

art that tempest resides in as part,
a parcel in of the entirety of your body+soul composition,
but “out for delivery,”
seeded, stored & carry~birthed, given forth,
in a completed quantity
that’s so grand,
it takes five senses to truly comprehend!

it is pieces, a child of you,
recombinant,
you the birth sac,
how could ever be assessed as merely

little?

you are better understood to be a translator,
a temp~progenitor,
taking what all of nature and human experience
has installed on your inner walls, and then dispatched,
by you, gestated and unhesitatingly dispatched,

and when gift unwrapped from the plain brown paper of
our now orphaned belly skin,
it is to be hallelujah greeted,
for you, artist, translator, poem~mother,
have done you job, hallowed and sacrosanct,
and now the renewed giant emptiness,
will soon,
needy to be refilled, and
retransmitted once more:

this is no little, limited, mean feat,
your gifting is
beyond any words that limit,
no size constrains,
no words,
neither sufficient and insufficient,
you, are in loco parentis,
you’ve take what you/we are given,
beyond sizing,
and it seizes and is seized,
until you give it away
completed

and that is the grandest art .
inseminated within you,
true artistry!




7:42am
Fri Oct 27
2023
tempest Jan 2019
are we really woke as much as we all claim to be?
or are we woke to ease our minds, which ain't reality?

of course we've signaled heavy change, i won't deny that's true
but let me have your ear for now, give you another view

are you really woke because you post a rant on twitter,
but bop to Chris Brown's music even tho we know he hit her?

are you really woke cause you were born into the slums,
but if you make it out,
you forget where you are from?

are you really woke because you claim to love black hair?
but only like the softer textures, is that really fair?

are you really woke 'cause you admire that 4c?
but put down girls who have relaxers, wigs, or wear a weave?

are you really woke because you claim to love all people,
but if ya boy is gay you will denounce him at the steeple?

are you really woke because you say you know what's right,
but ostracize your fellow blacks,
simply cause "they talk white?"

are you really woke because you claim to love all colors,
but date a darker women? yikes! you'd rather find another

are you really woke because you claim you've got insight,
but if i am depressed, you say that mess is for the whites?

i bring up all these issues not because i hate my own

i bring up all these issues just because they're never shown

and if we are to grow and prosper,
thrive and shed our past,
we need to have these conversations,

                                                 ­                                make sure that they last
In light of the r kelly docuseries, I thought back to this poem I had written about a year ago over the black community tending to overlook issues that are prevalent among us. Conversations about colorism, mental illness, homosexuality, the covering of black artists and entertainers after serious allegations, etc., are always difficult conversations to have, especially when years of culture are intertwined with it, whether it should be or not. In the past decade or so, we've come a long way in opening spaces for these discussions and the R. Kelley documentary is just one of many ways how we continue to do so.
forestfaith Sep 2018
I heard that there are seasons
To laugh and to cry
I struggle with the season
When You lived and You died
It's hard to play this game
Because the rules, they don't seem fair
If You care, God if You're still there

[Verse 2]
Bombs falling in Syria
A child dying of AIDS
Fighting 'round the world
A daddy lost his girl
Still we kneeled and prayed
But Heaven can feel silent
And the floor beneath gets cold
When your soul refuses to let go

[Pre-Chorus]
But wait, tell me am I too late?

[Chorus]
What happens when the healing never comes?
Do we stand and curse the heavens
Or lift our hands and feel the sun
The mystery's not clear
Just once, Your voice I'd love to hear
What happens when the healing never comes?

[Verse 3]
I know we love the seasons
Like summer and the spring
But I've been stuck in winter
Since the fall of misery
One day I'm full of anger
And the next I'm full of fear
Every year, there's a new supply of tears

[Pre-Chorus]
But wait, tell me am I too late?

[Bridge]
Is there a chance for me to believe
We would dance together soon
If there's a billion galaxies
I'll count each one 'til I'm with You
They say where You are is better
But I want You here with me
Oh, this is for a purpose
But hurt won't let me see

[Verse 4]
So now I must be silent
Your voice is in the wind
The hands that made the heavens
Will heal the storm within
I have so many questions
I don't know where to begin
Since You were there at the beginning
You already know the end

[Chorus 2]
Ooh, what happens when the healing never comes
Do we stand and curse the heavens
Or lift our hands and feel the sun
The mystery's not clear
Just once, Your voice I'd love to hear
What happens when the healing
What happens when the healing
What happens when the healing never comes
I love this song
Timothy Ward Jan 2016
a great whale breaches
"man-watching"
the pacific stirs
This is a Lune devised by poet Robert Kelly. You are restricted to 13 syllables 5/3/5 in his attempt to tighten the Haiku format in English
Obtusely overt and contusionally obscene,
boy I feel like being mean.
Rip its face off, shove it up its nose,
be a raven in a flock of crows.
Be a bad *** savage brutal,
why I'll even throw in the kit and caboodle.
Feral phrenic frenzied ****,
with immaculate mule kit blues aimed ****.
One for all and all for one,
we're all moving to Fullerton.
Where the lecherous lothario lout,
is no longer libido liaison's tout.
Fecund cogent liberating exigence,
do you get it or are you dense?
Pique puissant piquant quintescence,
have you all learned your lessons?
In Fullerton six cops beat a homeless mental patient named Kelly to death for no apparently good reason.  Like they couldn't have subdued him instead!!
Mel L Oct 2015
What I perceive may not exist,
but none the less
that perception does...
Over thinking things that may not come true is useless but yet still a real problem.
Y e s   o f f i c e r   I   c a n   r e c a l l  
l a s t   n i g h t   I   s a w   M i s s   K e l l y .
S h e   w a v e d   t o   m e   f r o m ,  
i n t e r i o r   o f   f i n e   c a r r i a g e .
I n s i d e   s h e   s u p p e d   o n   w i n e  
a n d   f e d   o n   l u s c i o u s   g r a p e .
a n d   t h e   m o n e y   s h e   w a s   p a s s e d ,  
d i d   n o t   d i s p a r a g e .

B u t   s h e   p a s t   m e   v e r y   q u i c k l y  
a n d   f u l l y   d r u n k   w a s   I .
I   f i n d   i t   h a r d   t o  
r e m e m b e r   a n y   m o r e .  
B u t   t h e   o w n e r   w a s   a   m a n   o f   w o r t h ,  
f o r   h i s   c o a c h m a n   w a s   w e l l   c l a d -
a n d   t h e r e   w a s   a   g o l d   i n s i g n i a ,  
p r i n t e d   o n   t h e   c a r r i a g e   d o o r .

M y   f i n a l   r e c o l l e c t i o n ,  
w a s   t h e   s m i l i n g   f a c e   o f   s h e .
I   d o   b e l i e v e   s h e   t h o u g h t  
t h a t   s h e   h a d   m a d e   a   d e c e n t   s c o r e .
B u t   t h e   t h o u g h t   o f   h e r   t r a n s p o r t e d  
t o   h e r   d e a t h   b e f o r e   m y   e y e s .
I   a m   o f   m i n d   t o   c h a n g e   m y   w a y s  
a n d   n o   l o n g e r   s h a l l   I   w h o r e .

T h i s   w a y   o f   l i f e   i t   s e e m s  
h a s   o f t e n   p u t   u s   g i r l s   a t   r i s k ,
I t   h a s   a l w a y s   b e e n   t h i s   w a y
f o r   a   l a d y   o f   t h e   n i g h t .
B u t   o n   s e e i n g   M a r y   K e l l y  
c u t   u p   a n d   l e f t   f o r   a l l   t o   s e e
h a s   m a d e   m e   w a n t   t o   l e a v e  
m y   L o n d o n   a n d   t a k e   f l i g h t .

I   a m   s o r r y   t h a t   I   h e l p   y o u   n o t  
w i t h   w h a t   I   r e c o l l e c t -
f o r   I   p r a y   y o u   c a t c h   t h i s   f e l l o w  
a n d   h a n g   h i m   u p o n   h i g h .
B u t   I   t r e a d   t h i s   p l a c e   n o   l o n g e r ,  
i t ? s   n o t   w o r t h   i t   n o w   I   s e e .
S o   a l l   t h a t   I   h a v e   l e f t   t o   s a y ,  
d e a r   P o l i c e m a n   i s   g o o d b y e .

I f   y o u   n e e d   t o   s p e a k   a g a i n   t o   m e ,  
h e r e   i s   m y   n e w   a d d r e s s .
I   w i l l   n e v e r   m o r e   s e e   L o n d o n   t o w n ,  
n o t   e v e n   a s   a   t r i p p e r .
F o r   I   k n o w   t h a t   M a r y   K e l l y ,  
c o u l d   o f   e a s i l y   b e e n   m e -
w h o   h a d   f a l l e n   t o   t h e   b e a s t ,  
c a l l e d   ? J a c k   t h e   R i p p e r .
Part of my Jack the Ripper Series.
Posted on 18 March 2015
Kelly Brook
Mistook
A book
For a hook.

Went fishing with
Alanis Morissette
And Anneka Rice.

Caught a complete set
Of Encyclopaedia Britannicas.
Popped it in the keep-net
And mused,

This really is a landmark
Of informational literature
But is rather wet
So not easily used.

I think I'll stick
To the Internet.

— The End —