Divided by the Cost (slam)

Anytime I say the word “laughter” I want you to laugh out loud, okay? “Laughter”…

4,731 U.S. and Coalition forces killed in Iraq divided by the cost of the occupation to date, equals 200 hundred and 78 million, 500 and 99 thousand, 800 and 82 dollars per death! Add in the number of Iraqi civilian casualties and the number of Iraqi Police killed and the individual net worth is around 1,284 dollars! By the time we leave here tonight, the net worth of every single human being killed in the Occupation of Iraq will be worth less than… 0 (zero)-

1, 2, 3, yellow pine, aroma aloft, the stench of a war crime I’d watched. 5, 6, 7, these three boxes suffered the horror of a million gutless tongues, the marching numbers are a mausoleum of shattered year. 11, 12, 13, they track existence down and crush it where it stands and they wait and wait and rapidly they spring- 16, opening fire, winding the clock of flesh with invariable death, and the laughter? Well it calls out for another set, so politicians can sleep amid the screech of striding tombs!

69, so the oil baron can sleep in his moist sky!
92, so no good son-of-a-bitches can cackle doom in one breath and liberty in the next!
103, if only they could see the true numbers glee dripping down my skin
with the tongue of panic, over the teeth of terror’s shriek!
209, bulletproof vests are for the living.
400, armored hum-Vs are for the red cheeked fortunate and breathing
placing their bets on Wall Street as they wait and wait!
1,038, the poor get poorer and the rich polish the war machine,
the IED, the RPG, Boeing and Lockheed slinging death like seed.
And the laughter? Oh! The madness in unbridled glee!
2,043, so some arrogant son-of-a-bitch can roll his H3
up to his plasticized life and plop his jangling ass down and smile!
2,865, march on by as our twisted faces turn away and peace is murdered!
3,056, shot between the goddamned lips, lips shrieking peace against the laughing numbers!
Wait, wait...
4,508
waiting for the rapid pounce of bombs to stuff them under.
The climb is steep and there’s no ladder to lift them to love’s agreement.
And the laughter? The laughter’s like thunder!
4,600, man-made and flinging their final flesh!
4,608, slain and this just amuses the golden cockeyed Caesars.
The wealthy cowards won’t cease death’s dying glee!
4,703,
The knee-slapping boxes march by on their way to the gallows-
4,720, so some low-life degenerate can snuggle up against his tyranny!
4,724
And the laughter? O! The laughter’s forevermore!
The nauseating laughter under the damned sun!
4,731…

iCasualties

ROOT OF

"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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........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........ •HEAD-LINES• •RIP• ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)--- There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God… ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)--- Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God… ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)--- I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

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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

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CONFESSION ZERO

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