These times of ' disappeared', I stare to the todays,
Time stretches , circuitous ,shallow waves before my soul,
Bodies of retirements all gets disappeared,
Time stands very still , yet,
Funds go like magic, like people ,as does the bees,
All disappeared before us, fast from reality,
All lost in time , yet all before time ...
Fiddles there Nero, from a rooftop,
Glowing there in the dark, swirls there a fire below,
Disappeared is all in the smoke , no mirrors here yet...
by Pc-3 ( 04/07/2025)
Floating clouds hang low, the sky a grey mirror,
Drops fall in a long stream,
Out there , they spill and splatter,
Is it the earth that spills the drops ,
In a stream up to the clouds...
Is this day , another's prelude, or just a mirror?
To my dreamless nights,
Or to my slumbering wakefulness?...
Poem by Pc- 3 (04/05/2025)
Its time now , time to speak , that voice from your soul,
Beyond fears, yes -time to act , before the darkness,
Time is now , to speak, to voice ,to act,
Not time for fears, yes time to rise ,
Beyond the fears, yes now...
Not a time for uncertainty,
Before the dark, before the soul's inky death,
Time is now , to rise with light, with truth,
Its time now, yes now - before the light's death...
Poem by pc-3 (04/02/2025)
Honoring all who stand up and act and above all honor to all with courage and righteousness, be it a Harvard or a kindergarten... every little step for righteousness and doing the right matters! Every little drop of courage before the bullies matters for Democracy , honor , every right thought and right action matters!
Quiet
I woke at dusk wondering if its dawn ,
Or did I wake at dawn and still wonder ?
Is today tomorrows preview or is it now...just that-now,
Is all still a dream , or distilled days of yesterdays,
All now distilled into the essence of all nightmares,
Of all past made to fit into this thimble of time?
All before thus opens the flower, this day, nightmare of life...
PoEm bY Pc-3(03/22/25)
I really do not understand why we have to struggle to keep the govt open using a cR bill that is antithetical to anything called sense.
I along with many of us who are paid by the govt are ok to suffer and sacrifice some bit if it will open the eyes of those who seem blinded by the gilt of democracy without the effort needed to keep it alive . Many feel that no effort and sacrifice is needed for keeping alive this democracy that is already gasping with its last few breaths .
I applaud those who protested today in New York to stand up for freedom of speech . When the craziness spins and spills into the daily lives, do those shameless democratic senators feel any thing other than the strong urge to grovel more before the autocrat as a way forward for their political survival ...May be they think that is the way for them , to lick the autocratic boots that is stamping out anything that has the slightest whiff of Democracy . There is a Bernie sanders and an AoC who seem to have not been muted yet .
Let us hope our beloved country breathes still with Democracy into the future and this all just becomes a bad dream we all awaken soon to that day where democracy is still alive and will be thriving...just a hope!
(pc-3 , on 03/13/2025)
Action calls for Now...
Rise up, Rise now,
Speak up , Speak now!
Pause your fears , for now...
For Action calls for Now, act now...
The lone mouse skitted into the hall,
Sprayed his odors and veered to the right ,
Turned on his head and took a spin,
Into the little box he turned,
Glowing cheese beckoned , even when he couldn't ,
Not another morsel said his head,
But he spun to the cheese, greed knows no bounds,
Not that you see things while standing like a top,
Spinning to the cheese globe he went ,
His fat gut pressed against the walls,
Stuck in its imprisoned walls,
Trapped by greed , the lone mouse glares ,
His red eyes stare , hope into submission may be...
Yet the greed spills soon, green spewed on the marble floors...
Poem by Pc-3 (02/24/2025)
Every moment is swollen, pregnant with the potential of what comes after... a big question of each present moment is , "what next". Yet the stirring of uncertainty is its own next ploy, that's how the stirrer of mists and mirrors function , they do it all in the spirit of gas lighting .
But we all have to remember when faced with the swirling gas lights what Hannah Arendt said, "No body has the right to obey".
We really have to remember that it is our duty to "not obey" as these dictums directed us is in contradiction to what is right. The internal ethical guide directs us to oppose when a rule or directive is an effort to subjugate all ethical reason. Hence every body has that right to 'not obey' a directive ,when it is just plain wrong .
So what next ...hear what your soul says , listen to that conscience and do what is right, what is just .
It takes a bit of effort than to just float along , but it is all well worth that effort.
by Pc-3(02/21/2025)
I watch the evolving circus that is all about creation of wealth for some and suffering for others. The average person did not come into this world any where they happened upon by their choosing, such as the place they landed at, the circumstance they happened into ...none of it is by their choice but by mere chance conglomeration of events called birth, or the life events that led them to be that "average person" .
The financial dispositions available to them , being thrown away by those who gloat in their own powers, be it monitory power or just other forms of controlling powers, I think are not able to fathom the life and thoughts of the average person , hence they are trying squeeze further and further in their need for control, in their greed for power , yet they have forgotten one little detail- from the time when humanity came into existence onwards he power balances have shifted periodically and the average person acted and re-set the balance . There were times of struggles, not easy times for the average person and all others , yet it shifted things and made the re-sets into being.
Now is the time to act for the average person like me and all other average persons. There is might in the collective and when the need for protests come up , as now , it is time to collectively protest. The shift has to happen before the rot settles any further , it is for upholding the right to question ethical violations, the right to have the freedoms , freedom of speech ,freedom to have an honest living , even when the powers be want to undo all the freedoms . This is the time to act , through the democratic processes, through our protests along with all and any legal recourses that can be done. .
It is the time to look within ourselves and stand with Democracy, Over and above everything, this is the time to march together , to protest in unison...Yes it is time to act Now...
Peace crane 3(02/15/25)
Its like magic, few scribbles, no language ,
No need for words , when its all shiny and smart,
I say, therefor it is , as it really is , so great...
No more diseases, If you don't see, then isn't it beautiflu indeed..
Words and plans ,never smart,
Louder, shinier , behold such beauty, in Mica and muscovite,
Such beauty , big and beautiflu,
With such beautiflu ,why educate...
Such smart no needs , no illnesses, no need for any checks,
Food, water , air , all just like a day , like ozone gaps...
Sunrise and sunsets , so great, indeed it can be better too,
All so great, with greatness no queries need be there,
It is all magical Mica, Its so beautiflu, oh so great as never before ...
Oh so great, oh so beautiflu...
Poem by PC-3 (02/05/2025)
I am not sure I am the one to opine on the matter, but I see all around me people going about like zombies , fear seeping out of their staring eyes.
What I have surmised is very limited, but so far in the many encounters with Bullies, I have seen them wither when there comes some unlikely resistance. For example try it sometime and see them wither . I guess they like to sound big and tough but inside they are uncertain , especially due to their lack of any speck of honor or integrity.
Think of a narcissist, they like to be applauded for everything . Hence when they bully and encounter resistance of being scrutinized by the public instead of being adored , they withdraw . That's when the gaslighting starts in earnest ... from that inherent need for applause.
Some times the sycophants' provide that applause , but still the worst for them of course is public scrutiny, and not being considered powerful or great by the others...
Now it is time to push back against the bullies , not to be afraid, not to cower , nor to be taken by the lies or dazzle flashed before you .
This shadow follows me everywhere,
I see it extend from my feet , twist and turn,
With every turn I make...
I fear this shadow , fear its intention,
Fear it is stalking me , quietly ,
Readying to pounce on me ,
Planning to devour me , is it joining,
Joining with all those wispy shadows,
I fear this shadow, I fear its not really mine ,
Not the one I knew...
This land stretches dry, devoid , its air rank ,
Has it poisoned my shadow too,
Just like those wisps that float by,
Wisps of some conscience shredded of its substance ...
Poem by Pc-3 (02/03/2025)
This is a letter to the next generation, was pointedly to those who were carriers of my genetics in their DNA, but the present time calls for it for to be for a wider audience ...for it to be seen , to be understood and deciphered by more ...
I have to advice you all not to loose heart, despite the much feared event-a Kaos presidency.
You are all blessed with wisdom that life gives.. the values of moderation- if you feel you lack it, do cultivate it , grow it and nurture it and it will take root and grow and become part of you.To honor thee, your actions they do ,
Your greatness in your actions ,
Made it bright for a moment ,maybe
Amidst the daily grim realities , in the rising dust ...
Now to rest among the stars ,with Reem again ...
We , honor thee, with small compassionate act, we try,
Yet we fail , as despair grips our daily grinds,
Shall strive to do it again tomorrow , each day again...
poem by (Pc-3 -12/21/24)
I read Margaret Renid's opinion ...how to keep your own soul safe in the dark. I had decided to stop writing alittle while back, but it spurred me to again write. My thoughts are simplified at this point, 'what good can be had if I do not write , to not spill some bits of my soul's questions on to a page , what good will it be...to have my thoughts to be kept locked up in a box , which will only burden and weigh down my soul...
It is good to feel part of a silent group , to keep hope alive 'that good people working together will bring about changes for the better' .I had consciously turned off all media for a while , esp the news cycles that just repeats and talks at you , may be they like to hear their own voices, I am not so sure though...
I want to retain my hope . I see a blue jay in the yard picking up some 'bug whose time is come', as my mother would have said to the little child in me .There is hope in natures every moment, nothing is inconsequential in nature
I vacillate between the child who wish for the security of the known everyday of a past , with no harm to any living or non living things here on earth and the adult me who take change as a given , change being a definite requirement for nature.
Therein lies my dormant hope despite the fear for health of the public with vaccine deniers at the helm and the fear for an unravelling destroyed nature by climate deniers and greedy businesses. But the little child's hope in me that used to marvel at the vastness of the universe by looking up at the night sky now look at the night sky that hide all the stars and the great milkyway in the light pollution from this earth and still wish nature will reset itself beyond the un-caring puny humans around me . When I look up in the sky and see the stars I know nature will take over and I just hope that it will be soon . In the meantime , I shall continue with the little things I do... try to leave a smaller carbon foot print -yes I know it takes effort, but I can put a little extra effort to leave this place less damaged than if I didn't care .
As I look around my neighborhood , I know I am doing what is right by my soul , and even if I am the only one around here I have to continue for I have to keep my soul's light alive deep inside me in these dark times ...
(By PC-3 - 12/15/2024)
.
The days are warming, warning, drying ,
Embers catch on dry leaves and come alive ,
Orange wisps under the grey sky ,
Darkened days ,here orange flames leaps to the heavens ,
The dry land's curse ,its memory, of yesterdays
Green vines with orange pumpkins,
Rambling free hither and thither ,
All a dream, withered land sighs ...
Pumpkin pies just a fantasy,
From a land long dead , no drops here to awaken ,
Crusted salt at its edges,
The land is no more ,just wisps of smoke
And the parched land sighs ,
Those wisps its thanks to the universe...
Poem by PC-3 (11/11/2024)
I mourn for all those dying, all those who died,
None wished for the bombs,
No child asked to be in this world for this ,
No one cares , what horror we are , humans that don't care ...
Politics day in day out for some ,
Win or lose , they all play with lives...
Accursed lives to you all, the curse from all death shall follow you ,
Like your shadow , even as you slide to your sleep,
All of you , calling yourselves leaders ,
Curses onto you from the dead and the suffering ,from those who never mattered to you,
Yes each day, see those curses multiply and wrap around you , unto your very end ...
(Poem by PC-3, 10/19/2024)
Wisps of sunlight streak across the sky,
Glow of the morn is hope to mourned depths of a night,
Evanescing shreds of the dark, lost to the day,
The glow , an uplift for the weary neurons, to the body,
Smiles the leaves, glowing , still wet from yesterdays rain-shower,
All nature aglow with life , a mornings gift...
(poem by Pc-3 , 10/13/2024)
'Known as hibakusha, the survivors of the 1945 bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have been recognised by the Norwegian Nobel Committee for efforts to rid the world of nuclear weapons.'
War by any name still is war,
All just suffering and misery, just despair...
There lies no path to peace ,where disconnected weapons reign,
Where rulers just parrot their few words, devoid of life,
Devoid of feeling the drones and missiles become just a game,
All on a bland screen, but the weapons do move , for the seller : all just profits,
Political games where people are again just numbers..
Be it here or there ;words do not take away the nightmares,
Do not remove the 'poothans', be it from a past life ,
Of flames creeping across the walls ,yes for this toddler,
Where you feel the sponginess in the water, in your dreams ,
You fear the water, for the doughy bodies piled ,
Of those who never had a chance , at life or at anything but death!
They were just numbers, just collateral damage ...
If only there is hope for peace, not the despair of todays and tomorrows...
(poem by Pc-3, 10/11/2024)
War by any name still is war,
All just suffering and misery, just despair...
There lies no path to peace ,where disconnected weapons reign,
Where rulers just parrot their few words, devoid of life,
Devoid of feeling the drones and missiles become just a game,
All on a bland screen, but the weapons do move , for the seller : all just profits,
Political games where people are again just numbers..
Be it here or there ;words do not take away the nightmares,
Do not remove the 'poothans', be it from a past life ,
Of flames creeping across the walls ,yes for this toddler,
Where you feel the sponginess in the water, in your dreams ,
You fear the water, for the doughy bodies piled ,
Of those who never had a chance , at life or at anything but death!
They were just numbers, just collateral damage ...
If only there is hope for peace, not the despair of todays and tomorrows...
(poem by Pc-3, 10/11/2024)
There a moon glides across the sky, the milky way sparkling on its back,
What about this american air, rising in waves, rank , in waves,
Deep notes of sweat , of tears congealed in its depths,
Volcanic ash settles in those up drafts , fall to the earth slow,
Settles onto the jebels of Sahara,
From the leaves high up , they drip down in the Amazon,
Yet what's with this american air, still rank ,rising , shifting ,rising
Shifting with the stony land beneath, restless , untethered ,
Heavy lies its mantle on the souls , unmoors the souls into chaos ...always ...
Poem by Pc-3 ( 09/22/2024)
I read New York Times magazine article of 'the kidnapping I cant escape by Taffy Brodesser-Akner all in one sitting- yes its very unusual for me . However if you ask me what the content really is , I may find myself somehow to be at a loss. I also read 'Diddy and me '. I felt so glad that NY times have really brought out an issue that many face , an issue that one rarely talks openly about- traumas and related responses that we use .These responses take many a shape and are nonetheless very distressing. Even those of us who go through it cannot put it into words easily... They are just there, as shadows that follow you every day even as the clarity of our days are shrouded in a mist , a mist that sometimes disorients us , some times is suffocating us as it extracts every bit of impetus for life from us... Each time as the mind swirls in it or the body itself breakdown and fights itself spewing inflammatory processes , you are left drained , confused, yet muzzled by invisible internal forces. You wish to break out, yet is left frozen incapable to act, all you do is just exist...
At least I can give the essence of what I read in the above articles at the present time .This would have been impossible just a few years ago .I may read and re-read as words existed just as a group of letters ,but devoid of context or meaning. That seems like a time so far in the past that it seems unreal to me today.
The description of inability to focus may have been one of the last bits that I had shed... I digress, I think there are remnants of all kinds of things that linger in life for me from my traumas , things that I think I have moved beyond which on occasion will still show up un -invited . I do not check my doors and windows multiple times now , but I do consciously lock it , repeating to myself what I am doing lest I really missed the all important step of locking the door .
Yes I do like to sleep with no curtains blocking the light coming in through the windows in the mornings , to welcome the day , as I say. But I do know there are secret underpinnings even for that...its so I can be aware of the outside world even as I sleep, I no longer check them every hour at night as I used to do, scanning the outdoors from the side of the shades , with a swelling anxiety and the racing heart beats drumming ever louder in my ears... I just look out once before sleep and can then be off to sleep. No more standing by the side of the curtains , peering out with lights turned off scanning for predators in the shadows and sounds.
I do not have nightmares that wake me every hour or every half hour, which is a big plus indeed. I am even able to push back at the flashbacks when they appear. The best part now is that these flash backs do not get attached to emotional under currents as in the past where I would stay frozen and my day slips away from me without any use or recall for the lost time . Now on the few occasions that these flash backs appear I have found ways to navigate away from them using some pictures or specific music pieces .I still periodically lapse into the regret mode of wasted life paths, carrier moves and all other lost possible gains that could have been. Now I am able to look at these and say 'here I am' and 'despite all things, its ok'..
I think the hardest part to shed (still struggling with it) is the feeling of guilt for all things under the sun, including the sun itself... I may feel guilty if ' the sun is shining and if its not ' as if all of this universe's moods are my fault somehow .But if I can just get a strand of humor to hold on to, then I am able to swing away from those feelings that plague me like an oozing bubo of the real plague from humanities past.
I am still not able to discard things of distress, I have them all in the basement , penciled in on the box to indicate its contents ' irrelevant-things of upsets, misery etc' and that box sits next to a box containing two things ' -old journal articles - to review when I have time' , and 'my rambling writings etc' and yet another box of ' children's drawings and writings' . My children want me to discard most of the things , they say ' at least get rid of the things that bothers you ', or 'why do you have these old journals... you can look up online for these any time , surely you know that...'
I do know that on a realistic cognitive level , yet I am not able to discard these journals. Some vestigial parts in my psyche holds on to them as there was a targeted constant attack on my reading in my past, a denial to my personhood all part of the repetitive nature of the traumas and I seem to hold on to these as if I will lose my abilities again once I throw them out . I may finally be able to do it today...As i write this I am also thinking-' what is relevance of research from the 1980's to the field today '. The reality is there , clear before me, but something keeps those boxes un touched , may be because up until recently I felt the fear of loss of 'me ' as an entity. I am more me now , but the difficulties are there spread out across the various aspects of my life and hopefully they too will loosen and fall off soon. I am hopeful as I become more of me , I will be able to discard old journals despite the fear of lost words and learning . I do not cry any more when I remember parts that were lost to me due to the psychological trauma I lived through. I do not cry when I remember playing as a child, or remember how the air smelled with a first rain in summer . I formulate coherent sentences and the words seem to flow with ease now . When I read now ,words dance on the page and become forms in my mind . I know the words and the joy of words may have been suppressed by what I endured , but I am sure what was within me and what is me is something no one could erase...
by Pc-3 (07/13/2024)
As I read the NY Times piece on domestic violence' a snap shot of domestic violence spread' my first urge is to go on an educational route, next I think as a clinician would and want to write part clinical...
Here I digress and want to follow my mind and go to where it wants to go, any way that was the reason that I started the blog so long ago, to put it all on paper , to regain letters and words as I tried to re-group my mind , gather the piece-meal bits of my brain into some kind of a cohesive functional whole. I know I will never feel brilliant again, I will always seek out places to withdraw to, to hide in, to be invisible, especially when I am told how great somethings that I did is...
I will always remain wary, the invisible scars never fade .
I do not allow to be gaslighted, nor give up 'me' for some altered reality any more. I too remember calling the Domestic violence helpline , with the thought of seeking support, had called a few times from work and hung up after dialing the number, just as the shame rose in waves... I had a facade of respectability and intactness to keep and to preserve these I allowed myself to be slowly decimated.
I felt that with reasonable make up application and rational sounding explanations it could be contained , until it was no longer contained and it spilled out more and more towards the children .
As always no victim in similar situation is ready until they are ready and that is the reality .
Looking back I can see clearly , and I can project to a variety of out come possibilities 'if I had stayed' none of them have me in a living mode...
The lack of support one feels is at times real, at times it is a distortion of our perception.
When there is a gun near the bed , it is an implied threat and there is no point trying to repeat to yourself that 'you are over reacting ' to this and 'it is all in your head'. The financial control is no fiction, nor is marital rape , even when you try to rationalize it all with some religious piece or cultural practice rationale . Looking back, I realized that the subtle signs were there from those early days of marriage (thank fully those were days before any cell phones and air tags) of quizzing about your work interactions , of telling you the color of a dress that you loved is 'not good ' finding that dress you bought being have so many small cuts as you go to wear it, were all early warning signs . After all you loved that dress because it was your favorite color... they all pointed to the tsunami that was coming to swallow you as life moved ahead...
Now I know suffering domestic violence to stay married is not a measure of success, nor a virtue. I may have thought of these , but with time you were denied any thoughts... You moved , a shell , an automaton, dull and controlled , alone as your universe shrank further and further . You feared the closing of the blinds and curtains until one day you accidentally found out that an open window or door , or a neighbor ringing your door bell acts as a deterrent and so you learn to create some relief on occasion from the constant threat...
Just like some elected officials views when it comes to abortion, I was told at one point that I have to go for a late abortion, even when I and my doctor knew it is dangerous, because the father felt he has a right to a son next... Chance confluence of events helped and hence I am here to tell the story, along with the blessing of a great daughter. I feared and worried for the intergenerational transmission of abuse ,may be the post divorce stable environment I could manage helped to keep those genes from switching on... I hope so.
The threats that he will call CPS on me , the stalking , the threat to call my work and make me return to him, the threat to make me and the children live in the streets none of it ever came to be , but it made me figure out how to live with canned black beans , eggs and some leafy greens/ frozen vegetables to provide nutrition for the children. It was not long ago that I mentally prepared to live in a shelter , wearing a hoodie and dark glasses (yes, my plan so others won't recognize me at my job)thankfully never came to being . At times I think back , ever so briefly and feel I am just viewing it from the outside . I try not to dwell on what was taken from me... time, emptied out bank accounts, hid away assets , career etc , as they are irrelevant at this time as I am still alive and here for my children. After all those are just things , I am here now and that is what I have to focus on... the here , the now...
I try to move away from the past as I know it is not healthy for me to go to the past as it is bound to trigger some thing and re-start my nightmares all over again . I do not need that for me in my todays.
I can also very clearly sense the victim of domestic violence when I come across one now . I understand the defensive stands and the shame they feel as they try to hide behind their facades. It is a helpful tool for me .
by Pc-3 (06/23/2024)
To protest , yes a right , but more , thus defines our souls ,
They are but bleeding souls, drips , our souls ... not warring,
Not wary calculations, not the wrath of the soul less,
Our souls , feels for those , feel their torn hopes
Even as you try to erase... drips collective humanity ,
Yes we collectively feel, and it's power of all our souls...
Drips collects into a tsunami, for what is right , for all...
poem by Pc-3 (04/29/2024)
You are no O henry, o little bunny, nor a king henry
Your hutch your kingdom, watchfully viewing the lands beyond,,
Be that the dining table , or those who pass by the room,
A short pause when you greeted me ,yes ; through it to my bunny,
Who had passed on years ago, for a brief moment ,
Yet your fluffy self an image in my mind still, even when you breathe here no more...
poem by Pc-3 (04/14/2024)
I pray , to St.Navalany, along with all the new saints ,
All the new saints that go up before God , no gates barring them,
All who I beseech to, to intercede for my earthly needs , for all my wishes ...
All these so presented ,I pray for world peace too ,
Each day , so many more saints ;so many to carry my prayers ,
Yet my prayers seem stifled , saints have been all around us;
There are the martyrs, of all denominations , all regions -
Those quietly suffering , those who pray and carry on ,then to die..
All who dared to hold true to their depths, their souls ,
Those who stood up when asked to kneel, those who kneeled when asked to stand ,
All colours, creeds , all who dared , all who lit the lamps in their hearts ,
New martyrs each day , this world has given, each of saintly , yet human natures,
Courage of ethics , drives this flow to the heavens , an un-ceased flood to God ,
In our todays , in this so very modern era , they flock to the heavens ....
poem by Pc-3 (02/19/2024)
What maketh a saint- 'one who stands for what is right, despite all opposing forces, even despite one's self ,for that is a soul's courage '
I read the news about the Japan earthquake, and my thoughts just go to the uncertainty we call life ...
People of Toyama I pray that you all are safe. I also recognize that the ties that connect us come also just
by chance . My connection to Japan is primarily through my own daughter's connection and some times I
think we may have some past life connection. I felt a connection of oneness when I visited there with
my daughter who had been teaching there. There is no other way to describe the internal connection I
felt breathing in the air and feeling the murmur of the bamboos , I felt at home , felt I belonged...
Hence I also feel with the people who are now feeling the stress and anxiety. I know safety is a temporal
sense that is there , but it is a memory that comes when uncertain events take it away or disrupt it.
We forget to feel it until it gets unmoored .I hope all the people on this earth feels safety, yet mostly by
human actions that feeling gets broken , at other times Nature makes disruptions....
The winds, they stir in the desert, they blow hither and thither,
Shamals sneak in to coats the days,
I rise , floats on an updraft,
Yes the wind beneath my wings have shifted,
The dust that coat me is all that is left ,
Here it smells of death, the dunes have turned...
They have become craters, and now they rust...
The updraft is just sorrow now, just sorrow is me.
the godlike ones calculate, lies for money, closed eyes ,
Not to see ,yet the sand turns red all around ...
Poem by Pc-3 (12/09/2023)
Three religions...
The three monotheistic religions had started their life in a region that had held human thoughts in where they all breathed the same air , yet how did the minds bend and shape it to navigate life with so much venom , spitting out so much hate towards each other . They all started out their course for reducing suffering in various forms , yet they have caused and continue to cause so much suffering through out human existence .When can any human see another as just that' another human...another who share the same space and breathe the same air, will human mind evolve and advance to that position ever?
All wars have sprouted and had been grown, fed on the hate for another, fueled by religion ,and they continue to do so...
Passover, Easter, Ramadan, or for that matter any religious observances and festivals are meant for one to focus within , to make one better with hope and share burdens with one another at the soul level, but instead in its place there is a wave that crests in hatred and denigration of another within the dark corners of our minds. Instead of trying to heal the soul every religion grow their zealots who has lost their conscience, and they claim to be leaders leading with vitriol ,furthering another's suffering.
Similar decay has taken over every religion , be it Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism or Budhism, the disruptors have worn the distortions that is convenient to them and loudly profess their great faith , charging in to spew vitriol and cause more suffering for all. The din and chaos is not conducive to a self reflection and those loud ones only want their thundering sounds to be above all else . For a moment if one were to think, none of us had a choice of where we were born, nor which religion we came into practicing, a few genes came together by chance and we came to be born into a certain family. Hence how can we claim our views to be dictated by faith , place of existence or where we happened to be
It may be too much to hope in an individual human's capacity to be reflective and uphold kindness to others and acceptance of one another during all times, but I can certainly hope. There in lies the real hope for peace and growth of compassion towards another growing from within our souls nurtured by self reflection and acceptance of what is beyond the self....
( pc-3, april 2023)
There are no winners in a war ...........
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Just grief and misery...............................
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Prayers and tears ripple ,
Lives torn asunder......, "..."
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....no winners ever in a war......
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Numbers and letters, names and assigned tribes , groups, sections , lost in these ,we are faced with the loss of human nature within us. It all fall into some words , illustrious descriptions , all for war lingo...
The news media goes about vying with each other as to who and how sensational any tragedy can be made for consumption. Lack of care for the suffering of people must not be the criteria by which the ratings and hence the profits are measured, but that is how the caring news business runs.
Just the same way that political rantings go as well. But above all the humans are forgotten . The people did not choose to be born either Christian, Muslim or Jewish .The new born baby got the stickers placed on him or her , just by chance in the lottery called life. His or her life got placed on whichever geographical place it happened upon. The color of their skins got colored by the rate of melanocytes that was another slot on this lottery system. A few genetic material got mixed together and came into being , however the ones that create suffering and war have their agenda and the human beings who chanced to be at a certain place is left with only suffering .
There is never anything right about any war, just what is left...a lot of suffering , a lot of humans who did not choose .. all left to suffer... and the utter despair knowing that 'no one cares'... no gods, no countries , no loud ones Then it all become but days.. long days of just quiet sobs, of children and slow whimper of destitution. just despair...Each morning the sun sighs into being and the heat of despair look on the days, giving way to nights of unimaginable losses.....endless days where no one cares and no care can mend the broken...
Words have lost their sounds, in a vacuum they simply float,
Soundless words , emptied they search, for heart...
Comfort and Despair , paired to the same life,
Man -why do thee curse life , with all emptiness,
Why do thee make life so unbearable , just so... to prove you can?...
poem by PC-3 (10/15/23)
This day dawns hushed,
The red fruit of the haze
Floats low on the horizon,
Wisps of burnt nature smart my eyes,
Nature's revenge ,its own singed skin;
Scars the earth though slow,
As you flay the forests bare in wider sweeps,
And soups the oceans in plastic,
Natures revenge , it coats my air.
Maybe I will remember it tomorrow,
May be I will stop to think again...
Poem by PC-3 (06/07/2023)
On Asthma, flashbacks and Gods….
Flashbacks, they come un-invited. A little girl cowering
under the covers, stuffing her shirt into her mouth to stop the sound that
escape unannounced…Yet you fear ,trying to place a comforting hand on her, you
fear that her attempts to gain air through the sobs will be heard beyond these
walls, unleashing further wrath in the one in the next room. You again pray
that sleep has closed off that other
parent in the next room. Through her
sobs she lets you know that which you and she knows inherently… “I cant help it,
I am trying , but I cant stop crying”, and then bigger, deeper sobs…
The air that is trying to oxygenate the deeper far alveoli
gets stuck, as the mucus fills them, those airways stay tightly closed ,a wheeze is all that can escape along the interspace of those heart wrenching
sobs…You silently pray, then you carry the frustration in you that ‘God can’t hear’.
All the Gods cannot change is the reality before you, when
humans choose to produce the suffering.
Natasha, Tony or Jana, none can escape that which is before
them every day…that suffering, the suffering that which becomes part of them,
they carry the weight of what they have seen and heard, they just walk one day
to the next… Their lives are forever modified, they shake but no, that which
left the scars deep within their minds can never be shaken off... Never will
they shake off that heaviness…
Providence is just another misguided term for where the
souls fall, who your caretakers in this life be , all set to chance and that same which seals your destiny. As mothers, fathers, children
and ancestors course through their lives, destinies are weaved in. Here we humans
and all universe interconnect, all just a factor of chance …
By Pc-3(from around sept 2004)
