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MONDAY (11/03/08)

Iraq expects U.S. answer on pact
A pact made out of petroleum ignites over the empty streets illuminating a path of sprinkled bone.

US military chief visits Pakistan
The boots on the ground alight striking the sand beneath them. A child cries out for father in the arid, dishonest air.

Judge tells White House to release wiretapping docs
Where have they been all these days? Wandering through infinite reams of law asking one another what it means to listen? Had they but done just that years ago.

Republicans Scrambling to Save Seats in Congress
My mind asks, perplexed, “Why do men not lead beforehand?” Ask the maggots oozing under the flesh do you eat more frantically before your hungry?

Experts Question AIG Bailout
They want to dissect the beast. Feed it our flesh until it bursts, revealing what we've always known.

Iraq pledges $900K to help displaced Christians
Odd is the noise this makes, loud, yet unlike the laden clang of money doled out in our monstrous churches.

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"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime

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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

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