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    farcical bloomery

    "farcical bloomery"   In the meadow of impossible mornings, the daisies exhale in a trumpet’s blush, petals fluttering like embarrassed fans as the air fills with laughter disguised as wind.   Rosehip hiccups, clouds of lavender smoke, their thorns rattling like spoons in a drawer. Lilies bow low,...

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    • Powerfully penned, Kesner. Crisp and precise imagery, excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • Many thanks, Damian. Means a lot. 🕊️🙏

    • Lovely description. Enjoyed the vision you created.

    • Many thanks, voi. Made my day 🙏🕊️

    • Oh, I wish for just one hour to play as a child in your impossible meadow, or just five minutes as the old man I am; what a wonder that would be! But I will take this one out on occasion and play with it here in my head a while when troubling times require some canny lift-me-up. Yes, this will do nicely, but there’s always room for more. Thank you fredd; I’m still smiling, and I know it will grace my face several times tonight as I drift away to wherever we go when life releases us to fumble in the darkness. Thank you for this lovely present.

      • That is an excellent share, dear FD. There is that meadow that indeed brightens the darkness and pauses the fumbling for a delicious interlude. Many pleasant returns. 🕊️🙏

        • Thanks for the thanks, and know that I had to reread this piece three more times while here, just for the giggles; it makes me see those very old hilarious colored cartoons with the crazy characters like Betty Boop (my all-time favorite anime crush), before Disney homogenized them all.

          • Like Jessica Rabbit, you mean…homogenised, although she seems to be from WB if I’m not mistaken.

            • Well, I like Jessica, but I mean the really OLD cartoons, probably 20, 30 years or more before the very sexy Jessica. These were before Mickey. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you.

              • You were probably thinking of Red Hot Riding Hood as Olive Oyl doesn’t seem to match the raciness of these other caricatures. (Early 30’s before the censors kicked in) methinks.

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    Damian DeadLove
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    kesnerfreds wrote a new post

    a moment turning

      "A Slow Turning"The stairs lengthen each season,though the house remains the same.Names slip from my tongue—like coins through a frayed pocket,clinking faintly in corridors I no longer patrol.I misplace mornings,folding them into afternoonsthat arrive already weary.The calendar stares back...

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    Random Thoughts About You

    Random Thoughts About You    I. The blood streaked across my eye pooling into a pencil point, but acting like it wanted to fight. Instead, it faded, then said goodbye, As you walked out the door.   II. The wind whipped across the deck like it was in a hurry...

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    • hello dearest poet I feel you on this interesting note my children are Aztec as was my ex…he is registered with tribe I never registered my children…I feel for your pain ❤️

      • Thank you for visiting Crimsin. One of my long ago ancestors was part of the Native American tribe that inhabited Manhattan when the Dutch arrived. May I ask why you never registered your children as Aztec and into the tribe? Are you Native American?

        • no I’m not Native American my ex was we don’t know where he currently is he wanted to register them when they were little but we didn’t do it now the kids need their day to register or go through a lot of red tape as there are large somes of money invoved…they are not asking for that just to be recognized…

    • Profound pain does this… when nature seems to reflect all your feelings and You also can’t enjoy anything of it. it’s like two opposite things, the nurture sharing your pains and nature is also going against You. “Random Thoughts About You” is a perfect title, the shattered mind and heart… one thought here, another there, one feeling is here another there… perfect song too, I love Kim Wild version of it. written well with feelings of numbness and emptyness being expressed and delivered clearly. Peace 🕊️ and happiness 💕 my friend.

      • Hi Light. I appreciate your comment. I remember Kim Wilde’s version of this song. A more “upbeat” style. While I do like the Vanilla Fudge version, my favorite is still the Supremes’ original. Their version is also more upbeat compared to Vanilla Fudge. Anyway, thanks again for your kind review.

    • I share your pain .. but then, I doubt you will be surprised .. nevertheless I am glad I came by this way .. you just helped me make more sense of myself and my world so ya did .. Wishing you well is becoming a reflex my friend .. kindest regards, Neville 👍👍

      • Hey there Neville, you are always welcome to walk through my poems. I am glad that this one helped you “make sense of your world, and yourself”. Perhaps now you could shed some light on my jumbled mess. 😕

    • Ms. Mary, what a treat to have you comment on one of my poems. So, you think I’m organized, huh? Not if you saw my notebooks. 🤔😂 But I want to make a deal: I’ll be good to me, if you’ll be good to you. 🌹

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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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