Happy (Hateful) Anniversary

Instead it is my anger that sparks, and I who burns
on this mountainous bonfire of regret
as, finally, I realize it was I who never amounted
#MondayBlogs

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Song to the Ruins of America

By Daniel de Cullá With the Glyn Ford’ eyes: “Fascist Europe–The Rise of Racism and Xenophobia” I see with horror how from an American country to another Racism and Xenophobia are cultivated in its fields Inspecting the growth of fascism and its relationship With the capitalist families’ domain As Daniel Guerin saw in his “Fascism […]

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Existence in Metals – A History

By Glenn A. Bruce I am.  I exist and I am connected to my past and the pasts of others. There are ways to confirm this. I was born in 1952, in Miami, Florida; but according to my favorite uncle’s second wife Gerta, I was conceived in Seaside, Oregon, “In this bed,” as she pointed out […]

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The Creator

By Sharon Willdin The Creator strolls through his masterpiece. Observing. The wind pushes against his back, driving him forward. His brown trousers flap against his calves. Over the mountains, stars and galaxies he glides with hands knotted behind his back in a philosophical gesture. He wanders aimlessly, contemplating, absorbed in the wonderment of his creation, […]

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I Am

#FridayReads #Family

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Lend An Ear

By Jacqueline Cioffa Those who live on in our minds, those ones we can hear eyes closed, are the familiar bonds that can never be broken or diffused. I’m a mutt, Black Irish, German with a pinch of Italian thrown in. I know this because I have always been curious about where I came from, […]

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My Mother’s Stroke

By Grace Jasmine I woke up that morning with a delicious feeling of planning. Full of bright ideas, I walked to the coffee pot. It was Easter vacation for my daughter, so she was still fast asleep, her sweet face looking cherubic above the edge of her blanket, her small, graceful arms stretched out above […]

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Saffron

By J. Nguyen I sat down in front of him, cross-legged. The marble tile floors were cool and egg-shell white. I leaned forward to take a peek into his little black book. Compared to my ten year old stature, he looked like a giant consumed in an enormous bonfire. This man had lived half a […]

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The Deaf Icon

By Anca Segall When I was seven I defied gravity, and lost. It was a gray, frozen day in mid-winter 1967. School had been let out and, as neither of my parents would be home for a few more hours, I joined three girlfriends in our little neighborhood park in the middle of Bucharest. Its […]

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