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    Cynicism

    Cynicism   Urban(e) smells suffocate our human(e)-ness struggling to remember forests, but still sparing with ghosts. We use to howl and rage, even dance at the Moon - cursing its phases and orangeness. Now we only nod, that American heroin nod as it influences our moods; rationalizing our ability to kill everyone, everything different...

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    • A haunting reflection on lost humanity. Our instinct to howl and dance muted by indifference, while cruelty parades as normal. The “strange fruit” lingers, reminding us of what we’ve forsaken and what it means to truly see and feel again.

      • Thank you RomaJ, I truly appreciate your take on this poem. “Strange Fruit”, a sung by Billie Holiday, is a song about the lynching of Black men during the whole period of “Jim Crow” America (1877-1964). These “lynchings” continue today, not done by KKK, but police terror. In the song, Billie H. talks about “bulging eyes” and “black bodies swinging”. I used birds as a metaphor for this horror.

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    an insight into whatever

    across the aisle newspapers held high, cheeks, chins, choppers unseeneyes dark - rings under, brows arced, lips thin or created;  bearded or clean?all secreted behind headlines, crosswords, financial fabric, scandals repeatablewho did, didn't, might have, done, regretted, sued -...

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    • Humanity’s connection with our Mother, Gaia, is slipping away from us these days. And in the process, we are also losing our humaneness, our ability to see each other as whole. It is possible to have a modern world and stay true to the world around us and to each other, but I think it will take a whole new system with new social relations, new ways of thinking and acting. As hard as we may try as individuals, or in small groups, the cancer of ‘me first’, and isolation will only grow.

      Your poem is right on time Emma and I thank you for posting it.

      -Curt

    • I agree with you, start to finish and after the second time of reading, Curt. If people are as intelligent as they believe, why can’t modern and natural world succeed as partners. We know of the sweetness of mix and match with wonderful results. We know that differences create something unseen before, individuality lives on.. and on, consequently. Failures happen but can be adjusted with or by tombolic attempts over time. Surely things don’t have to be rushed, time makes time – use it, perhaps. Perhaps?

    • I like to “touch earth” myself, and try to do it every day, even when it’s cold outside. Maybe especially when it’s cold outside. Urban life was never something I fully jibed with. Closer & closer I get to my ultimate goal of becoming an old Appalachian hermit lol. Though I am grateful to have had the city experience. Often, it’s the city folk who appreciate what we hillbillies sometimes take for granted.

      I really like this “paragraph poetry” form with longer lines, so different from my own curt, fast-moving style. Ideas & descriptions can linger much more effectively in this form, and it shows that you aren’t lazy like me lol. This was a glorious sonder for reader and protagonist alike, a sonder within a sonder, maybe….

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