SPRKS IN CSF: Womens March

SPRKS IN CSF: Womens March: The women marched , head held up , stand up to bullies of  the just, As bullies gulped down more beef to give grief, the women marched , h...

Womens March

The women marched , heads held up , stand up to bullies of  the just,
As bullies gulped down more beef to give grief,
The women marched , here there every where..
They walked , strength in their hearts , worn down , may be by life,
But with the right that comes of being , they walked ,
They walked on , theirs the strength of courage , of honor to what is right , they walked ...
On they walked , even as zoolander mimed before the mikes in jordan,
Looking into the smoky sphere, images of future through the fog there,
Glimpses...out by June and in by July, for clarity with time -perhaps,
Out of a house into another , is it for the blob? may be clearer tomorrow ,
Out there lies the future, not yet divined...yet they walked ,
They walked on feet that fretted before , carrying a determined grace within,
Shining the light for strength of hearts, of just actions , to a right path ...
For future that must  shine , their feet stroked the earth,in waves , yes indeed...

( by PC3, 01/21/18)

Then,there...

There, stare hard, into a morning...
There, the sun still rises, but where?
 Then, is it my eyes that sees, or my dreaming senses;
 Then, do I stare, at the unformed edges,
Or is it the foaming edges that quake, nay  wither?
Again , what is it that my eyes behold...
If they behold at all?
At the edges ,bubbles form, in frosty specks,
At the edge of conscience, freezer burns,
They  were there, silent , waiting,sheathed,
Silent in the hearts, in the minds, bubbling,
Yet deform , all despite  time , cold and hardening...
The days , they still form, but the inner sanctums,
To all deities lay defiled,freeze burned consciences that scatter...

Poem by P c 3 ---(08/12/17)

SPRKS IN CSF: Harry pothen and the end of the universe ( story t...

SPRKS IN CSF: Harry pothen and the end of the universe ( story t...: "nuclear disaster may be a "tantrum away' ,said  Beatrice Fihn  The time of Harry potter could not contend to where the uni...

Life , History and ...all ours?

(I write for those whose voice is stilled or who cannot speak...(Peace crane 3))

My voice, my thoughts , all mine,yet for how long ...
For the voices stilled, for the thoughts bound,
Thoughts that find no anchor, that they just  are, wandering,
Bubbling  in  , untethered voice, with no vessel to place ,
Is this what all abuse costs,
    Some mute with thoughts bound,
    Fears just keep rekindling,
    For all ,dances with no end,
    Into act and react and all to dance again,
    Yet in others' constant embers burn,
    Stained memories that don't tether,
    Kynuerins and toxins accumulate,spills into words,
    Into a dance of steps, non-steps,missteps all,
    Bereft of rhythm, of music,
    All call it life, yet forget life it is not...
My rooms are  in disarray,
Reflects my mind , my brain..
Chaos the theme of the times
I am no artist , but I dance and call it life...
In the shadows bears prowl and snakes slither,
Shadow deeds go on endless, disdain its aura,
Their ilk knows to bind,endless
Knows that  dance, to humor all fears,
For one to survive, for life,it all remains the same...
   Through centuries, through generations,
    Them faltered steps never cease to amuse the powers,
   In despair, human souls, they crumple,yet shadows prowl, persists...
Rising from the sea with their shining marks,
We, the masses stare, adore even,
As our eyes burn holes into our brains,
   Leaning in, into "just fears",senseless and bound,
   Yes, we repeat and replay and call it always- history...
   They remain  a bit varied; we all act our parts,
  Yet again that replay  is but our lives...

(poem by pc3- 10/14/17)