A Thought ~ 3: Protests and Violence

Protests, it seems to me, don't last; 
not as long as many may want, or fear.
But violence and killings can, and have.
Are the post-election street marches
across America now
going to fizzle according to this script,
or are there, here, the makings of the Mother
of All Protests?

TMiF, aM, 2tBB

The Millennial
Is Father, and Mother, to
The Baby Boomer

Necessity's Baby

It was dere in dat place
Where it all happen --
All, all --
All of a sudden.

I can take you dare.

She was dere, inside her den,
Which was her moder --
And whose Time was come.

And den Invention begat
Her own moder, as I saw,
Who was in her likeness.
Sure as you will see dem.

Let me tell you, a-a!

And who was already dare,
Cuddlin 'er very own --
And who saw dat it was good,
For all Time.

I can take you dare.

October Rain in Gaia

["My mother is a fish" ~ J. Steinbeck]

Cold wind plows the ether, and plows there, gathering clouds in uneven, woebegone thotes.

Still, a felt frontal temp 'trop'.

Imagine, then, in that troopin townward, a bloody nuclear 'winder' and else that, let us further imagine, goes with it. How cataclysmic it would have been back in the day; how, lest we forget what ain't there (really) to remember, it would in its fullness, in a refreshed nightmare scenario, p.

And still, an October rain.
A passionate embrace of liquid presence like no other we want to remember just now.

And then.

This passion which is like no other.
This presence which is like no other.

We don't want to remember any another just now.

To c any another.

And we don't want to remember the 'trout' except by a flick --
of the imagination.

Flickerer's closer to his mother than she, she, thinks.









Redone (some): October 25-26, 2018