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Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the (H)eartH...
Posted by Mark R. Prime people on Aug 30, 2006
They tiptoed into my sleep wearing dusty clothes and no shoes.
They tried to not let me hear them but the little girl put forth a giggle and the boy laughed, too.
Soon the whole room teetered in merriment.
A while passed and a hush fell around us; a silent prayer,
save for the short breaths of the children; petite puffs in search of a throat.
There were nearly twenty in the group. They had been searching for years
but were always met with sideways glances, and oftentimes violence.
They smelled like sand.
They were gentle.
I sensed they’d come for my help, but knew not what I could do.
The looks on their faces; the pain. The anguish... The truth...
The little boy now began to cry, followed soon after by the little girl.
Then, like rain, we all began to weep.
Our crying grew into an unexpected howl; a sorrowful choir of wingless angels...
and a great wall of water crashed down upon us dropping from the shattered roof of heaven...
A game of hide and seek with terror.
The stage is completely in shadow. We are in The War Zone. There is a slight sound of something very large smacking its lips. It is subtle, yet disturbing. A spot rises on THE GRANDMOTHER (the oldest living thing) standing center. Though ancient, she is elegant and graceful. Her skin resembles tree bark and vine. She addresses the audience as lights rise on the stage.
Open the play [+/-]
Two men running away from empire into truth...
(Lights rise on a bare stage. Lightening flashes are seen slashing across the sky. Soon a distant rumble like that of an advancing line of military tanks can be heard far off in the distance behind the audience. Two men enter running from the back of the house to the stage. They stop center. As the action takes place the rumbling grows ever so louder.)
Open the play [+/-]
This is my war hat, said the smirking man to the searing concrete.
I’m a war president! A war president! War’s all I know! All I know!
There is something in the stale braying of the man who hangs
words about in dread, who barks and yelps, War War War War, eternal…
This is the inane bray of an oafish bully a pseudo-tyrant’s howl, a full on liar’s groan,
I’m a war president! A war president! War’s all I know!
For all those countermand to peace they’ve a king in him.
Thousands of Iraqis Chant Death to Israel- Death to America!
Posted by Mark R. Prime creation on Aug 1, 2006
…An unfurrowed pain
…An offering to thee
…Take this tree, gOD
…Take this flower
…Crush this stone
In your image