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    A Poem, Short, But Way Too Long

    A Poem -Short, But Way Too Long 1.Miss sippi,back woodspine filledcountry.Pineyville,home of Leroy Boyd James,lynched1959.Pineyville,in the deep Southwhere black bones layon river bottomscause the currentdidn’t carry them away;or lay in unmarked graves.Disappearedunder soggy,red soil,under pine needlesweighed downby horrors unnamedand people...

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    • Outstandingly and brilliantly written my friend, You brought justice to them… and that last verse! smart very very smart and says it all. It really surprises me how some people thinking is till this day extremist and racist, but truth from where I am and what I’ve seen in the past years, nothing surprising me anymore. I admire your poem and admire You for writing it.

    • Okay, I have to say, this brought tears to my eyes. Such imagery should never exist but also never forgotten. I believe you did Nina justice here

    • Light, Willow, and Mary, thank you so much for your visit and for your comments on this poem. One of the reasons I became a revolutionary was because of digging deeper into the oppression of Black people. At first, it was more based on a religious basis, but after reading books like Griffin’s, “Black Like Me”; Baldwin’s, “The Fire Next Time”; and “The Autobiography of Malcolm X”, I began to realize it has deeper roots in a whole system, the rise of capitalism and its colonial conquests and genocide and slavery. This led me to Marx and Lenin and Mao, and now Bob Avakian. We do not have to live this way, and we are capable of ending all oppression. This is the reason for those last 2 lines.

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    SESSION THREE
    Wednesday, November 5th, 2025
    This session (by request) will be on the Japanese Haiku form.

    Haiku 俳句
    (by Western rules)

    An unrhymed Japanese poetic form recording or expressing the essence of a moment, that at fist blush might appear to be quite simple, yet is far from it. Still, it is far l…Read More

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    Becoming Conscious After Eating A Yellow Moon

    BECOMING CONSCIOUS AFTER EATING A YELLOW MOONyesterday I ate a yellow moonas it rode low, and slowlyencountered a twilight sky.it tasted like vanilla crunch.but you know, eating the moongives you a headache,like the kind you get if your facewas...

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    • hello dearest Curt I handle trauma in a similar way I disassociate and I go crazy wrapped in a world I formed great write ❤️dark expression but I get it…

      • Thank you Crimsin, for your comment and for your visit on this poem. Yes, it is a “dark expression”; there is no “light” in the pain of this abuse nor in the aftereffects. It is a poem I had to write, to tell the story of some poetry friends and how they were “working on healing”. Thankfully, they all really liked the poem. And one friend sent me a small box of chocolates with a heart drawn on the box lid. While I love chocolates, these were her favorite types, caramel and cream filled. Unfortunately, we lost touch, which I understand is often the case after revealing such pain. But the last I heard, she found someone, got married, and had a girl baby (she must be about 10 now).

        Crimsin, it is hard to overcome such pain, I hope you are doing well in handling the trauma you face/faced. Thank you again for your words and visit.

    • I don’t like to speak with my own tongue when the piece is personal like this, very personal… a personal experience (even if it’s not but the writer is). abuse comes in different shapes and types, in my opinion mental abuse can be the worst of all, many times it’s very later when You realize You haven’t come over it while You thought You did. Guilt, shame, low self-esteem and low self-respect… all stuck within the inner child and might be manifested into unexpected things as adults. to overcome pain, hate, guilt… is NOT easy to do in this 3D world, yet some experiences are unreasonablely unfair, even when there is learning or where there is karma.

      Unfortunately, it’s the world and humans who have changed into the worst, leaving profound devastation in the people and environment around. You already know this but You must hear it from others out loud and clear. It’s not your fault, never was and never will. No child should be blamed for anything specially in such situations and circumstances, not their thoughts, nor their actions… their bodies, minds and hearts have turn own the defense mechanism to protect their own selves, all what You seeked and loved is the image of the Father You, and any other child would wish him to be, and from my own perspective, You had/have such a pure heart and wise mind to love/loved him still, You could feel beyond the vail and that’s remarkable.

      I swear there is a tear in my heart wanting to be released as I read this… the only image I have is a little confused Boy writing all of this.

      • Back in the late 90’s and early 2000s, when the internet was not as ugly and more accepting, real friendships were made. In a long gone poetry page I met 3 young women and a young man who told me of their abuse and how they were dealing with it, mostly through writing (poetry). We exchanged poems and even talked on the phone or through chat rooms (ICQ). I wrote this poem about the young man because boys/men’s experiences are not as well known, or talked about. I found out that he committed suicide about a year later. The really sad part is that 3 days before this he and I were talking and he told me he was doing really good, had just started a new job, and even thought about dating (he had met a girl at his work).

        So, yes, this is a very personal poem for me. But it is not my personal experience. I have never been abused. Just the opposite, I was given a lot of freedom to explore and discover what I wanted to do and become. While my relationship with my dad was turbulent at times, I was a free spirit, while he was an ex-Marine; there was no abuse. And later in life, he and I became more open and shared a lot. He took my kids fishing and played Santa Claus to them. So, the personal experience is in my knowing them and the need to write. I think it is a true statement to say, it’s their story, I just held the pen.

        Thank you so much for your comment. The difficulty and mental anguish you mention is so true. I spoke because in some ways, they could not. At least not as direct as this poem. Thanks again Light.

        • It’s not your personal experience but believe me You did a great job here, You obviously have an emphatic heart.

          I’m so sorry for your loss, it’s common that they will tell You they are doing good while they are not, even when life seems to change for theirs to the better but their inner world is not, they held and endured so much… and it can’t be erased in one day. I think woman are more capable of healing because of their physiological nature, yet for both it’s the ego that must dies or at least be silent, You see many of them don’t/won’t speak about their experience even to the close ones because they might fear that people will misjudge or think they are weak. Anyway, analysing doesn’t matter, explaining doesn’t matter. after all they are beautiful humans who walk the same life as ours each with their experiences, beautiful souls who came from the same place we came too.

          Thank You for putting a voice to their pains, may your days be only peaceful and joyous as it should be 🕊️🤍

    • One of the most compassionate and giving men I ever had the honor of knowing had a horrific background that would break hearts. He’s no longer with us, but I believe he would have been deeply moved by this piece. When we’re so fractured, it’s difficult to believe anyone sees anything but the scars. Thank you for putting such a strong voice to abuse. It’s real, even when those who are made uncomfortable by knowing or hearing about it turn blind eyes…or perhaps because they do so.

      • I am so sorry that your friend has passed, Willow. This kind of compassion and giving is rare in our society these days. I am happy that you had such a wonderful friend.

        It’s easy to see the scars, but difficult to see and hear the person carrying those scars. It took me awhile to fully understand this. I think part of our “nature” as a human being is that we have an instinct for compassion, for caring about others, but it is forced out of our consciousness by the society we live in and under. Besides this is the guilt, the internal feeling that what happened is our own fault.

        Willow, I really appreciate that you read this poem and added your words. It means a lot. Thank you.

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    Your Erotic Metaphorical Flavors

    Your Erotic Metaphoric Flavors   You are coconut fudge and cherry cream images I see when thinking about you; a savory truffle that splashes butter cream in my mouth as I kiss your inner thighs. *** Tangerine spice and minty green sensations float around my skin as you lay with me amidst an apple tree breeze while wrapping...

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    • First, Thank you, I am happy you liked Mary.
      Second, and more importantly, that bath sounds soooooo inviting. Yes, Yes Yes! I will join you. But, you must promise to behave yourself. I am a nice boy after all….. er… NOPE, NOT TRUE!!! I will devour you and lick my fingers afterward….. er… wait…. I will rav… er… aaarrrgggghhhh now I’m all flustered. 🤯😎😂

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