Skip to main content

TUESDAY (5/07/08)


Georgia executes killer
Behind the thud of the pulse, small holes are pierced through and death scurries in to greet with pleasure the pinch of our breathing in its fading light.

Disease stalks survivors of huge Myanmar cyclone
At some point the disaster ends its attack. It is the way things have been, the way they are and will always be. Come another, nothing will change, save for the numbers.

3,500 US troops to head home from Iraq
Yes. Come home, dear soldiers. Come home. But why stop at such a lovely figure? Why such a pretty number like 3,500 instead of 4,073? I suppose that would never do, not round enough, knows how to carry more pain than freedom or living.

Iraqi Citizen Sues US Contractors Over Abu Ghraib Torture
No longer hanging upside down, bloody, naked and drowning, you seek justice in a counterfeit democracy- scream scream scream scream scream scream scream. Pause. Scream scream scream scream scream scream scream. Pause.

Laura Bush Slams Burma After Cyclone kills over 22,000
I’ve said it before, Laura… you’re a scowling whore! A scowling whore with a wealth-smeared persona, wrinkled brow and a cackling bloody mouth kissing the empty forehead of your murderous king!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman