PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Lopsided Economics: Will be a part of our downfall if not corrected and soon. Greed-yes, and opportunity to plunder. Almost Medieval. The net has the serfs and drabs reading - trouble for the wealthy & power weilding  few. Truth and fact are their ememy. Such systems crumble from the top as the have-nothings storm the castles (Refuse to work?) or get drowning in debt angered. Revolts happen that way - at the polls here usually, but gerrymandered districts rig that weapon. Doom,  no time soon, the crazed scavengers are not crazy enough to suicide.   Technically, Kim and Vlad are doing what western oligarchs are doing.  War and take or ruin and salvage, then rebuild getting richer at every step. We watch. . ~A~ .

I saw an owl corpse once: A peacock corpse too. Are the owls and eagles also innocent of this, or predators to preach against?

OMG: I wanna take a mud bath!

Write like these are your last days: ..for that is a gift to yourself and us appreciative readers and fellow compatriots of Postpoems. But, in midst of it, I hope your forecast proves wrong, and there are many lenten seasons still ahead that beckon you here. Be well. Looking forward to what you share next.    

You know how to spin an: You know how to spin an intriguing story! You have my attention. And your poetic sleight of hand is on overdrive. Such ingenious narration in every line.     "Black robes" flapping "to old Stevie Wonder lyrics". Only you could pull that one off. Amazing writing. This certainly will be fun. 

When it comes to advice,: ..always have it right in the home, first : ) As you have.

Original title: What follows does not disappoint.   "A scary wasp harrasses me" is taken up seven fold by "with death poison gurgling". But, hey, why stop there? Taking it up another several notches with a "crimson rocket body" and a blade stinger.   Let me tell you, if I could write like this at six years old (hell, I can't write like this now), I can think of a very real wasp that felt every bit as awful, and seemed every bit as frightening as your literary figure. Lost my red rocket ice that day (speaking of rockets). My thumbnail fell off from the sting, as well. But everything else is black and white in my memory next to that bright red ice. Even the blood from my thumb. Ah, what six year old's find most important : )