and we always focused on why: and we always focused on why he spent all the money on the Acme Corporation when he could have bought the food. Turns out he could have caught the roadrunner without using any devices.
Reading this late at night: Reading this late at night is like finding a new star in the heavens, waiting for a wish, and mine being that I could write this well.
I truly reveled in your: I truly reveled in your profound and expansive interpretation, especially your contemplation on the pond. That was a poem in itself. Glorious! Thank you again and again, gifted poet.
Melodious and astral reverie,: Melodious and astral reverie, stretching encompassing. The second half puts the poem in high gear like a slingshot on the outbounding flex. Where is tha fave button on this page?
Perhaps a question could be: Perhaps a question could be asked if there is a Marie Antoinette in the palace these days. We grew up being fed Utopia and find selves in unrelenting Dystopia.
The irony of it all is that I: The irony of it all is that I used to hang in there til the end just to see ole Coyote's look, pulling out a placard and crashing to the bottom of the canyon with in a cloud ☁️.
That's their opinion and they: That's their opinion and they are entitled to at least that: those that find poets a royal pain, it's society's conscience that they feeding to the dogs by tossing out poetry, lol. A scathing write ✍️. Thanks for sharing, George.
A freshness that befits café: A freshness that befits café scenes and live music lounges, like Ric's Café and a slew of other iconic films. The music and vocal textures are soothing and the lyrics together create a pleasant weave. Thanks for having shared.
Invitation to go beyond the surface : Abortion serves the ruling class. It first got pushed by the aristocracy in the late 1800's and early 1900's to limit the size of poor populations and reduce the mouths to feed, also reducing the need for the rich to share crumbs with the poor in order to prevent revolutions. It was particularly targeted against the poor black population of America, and so effective that, at least until recently, the black population of the U.S. was the only racial population not to grow in number since Roe v Wade. No one really talks about this disturbing reality.
Beyond that troubling truth, I find life to be way to fragile and precious, even in all of it's existing harsh elements, to support snuffing out the candle when it's just begun to burn, but I am also aware that we need ask ourselves something: Why is the ruling class willing to suddenly give up this useful element of population control? What do they know about the path ahead that we don't?
I can only recommend, my friend, no matter how you feel about abortion, taking this deeper than the culture war invites you to think about it. The culture wars are fought among the working class, mainly. Isn't it funny how they flare up at times when the class divide is exploding? Ever since the housing crisis, if you think about it, it's been unfolding...
Wow, heavy, at times dark, and thoroughly a wondrous reflection: One of the more unique poems I've read, for sure, with your choices of metaphor and allusion that were sewn throughout this. How it all threaded into a tribute, a memorial quilt of durable fibers, wow'd me most. Unique, and a truly special find for a lucky stumbler as myself.
Not a squished creature: But perhaps a metamorphisis. At a point in our lives, we live the wonders of being a caterpillar. But when we're ready to reach higher, it's time for wings. Such devastation, just maybe, means we're ready to go to somewhere that relationship couldn't take us. I wish that for you. May the anguish you laid out for us in these words lead, ultimately, to a new and greater joy. Don't disgard what you had, but let it be a springboard when your heart is ready.
The very same illusion that causes many car accidents: Very nice, standing alone. Even better with your poem emblazoned on an image, where-in both enhance each other.