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Showing posts from October 10, 2010

Faces of Clocks (16th Violent Verse of 2010)

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Right-wing extremism is gaining new momentum, according to a Southern Poverty Law Center report released today on the Sovereign Citizens movement. The report, entitled "Sovereign Citizen Kane," claims the group - an offshoot of the Patriots movement - may have as many as 300,000 members.
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I gulped down time with profound hunger. An urge for timelessness, no more clocks or tick tock, no more hours of dread and finality shining through the window like shadows recollecting the death in me; the mauling, the pale embrace, the faint breath, the last act of magic, blazing like a shooting star, rocketing across the firmament, entangled like a drunken lover.

O my love, miserable majesty, focusing upon deceit inside the bronze idols that stand ready to fold into the sun’s care; a bendable sorrow and revered truth, worshiping the earth’s breathing on the harsh roadway lined with snares that hide the potholes like an I.E.D. buried under my sovereign face. O love! Timeless garlands linge…

A Reality (15th Violent Verse

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A reality: The human race is from the same seed.
A question: What has happened to goodness in people?
A plea: We should treat everyone with kindness, it should not matter, the color of their skin.
A declaration: That is truth, nothing diminished, nothing beyond our solemn grasp.
A half-truth: People are just people, you can't change them.
A response: People might just be people, but people long for goodness, desire their kindness return like ancient voices in a canyon.
A prayer: We're tired of the "noise", the screech of “I”, the shriek of “me”. We, humanity, want nothing more than to live in peace, harmony, without our thoughtless mouths, without minds perched in anger.
A testimonial: We don't need our great noise making and selfish indifference, we never have.
A wish: We want goodness and to relish in the peace that will naturally follow so we can say, beyond dusk’s encampment, that we believe.
A question: How do you know this to be true?
Truth: I don’t.


© 2010 by mark …

One Seed (14th Violent Verse of 2010)

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Let’s stop warring, people. In this life we’re all of one seed. We must prepare, plan to remember, truth’s fallen from our soul and we’ve got to put it all back again.

We need remember this, our time, so we might carry it around again, witness the semblance, our blueblood red exactness, our lofty call to come back to crimson remembrance.

When the Robin drafts its melody and we whistle away our connection, we've bitten into deception, planted a kernel of deceit without a second reflection.

Brothers and sisters, let’s not agonize upon the preciousness of our original connection. Let us pray we remember,let us pray we remember,let us pray we remember.

What will our chronicle say? That we knew, yet did nothing, knew, yet still fell into the noise, or, we returned smiling with truth?

It may feel like pain, ache lowdown, bruise the self to redness, tear away at our useless flesh, yet, its speech, echoes truth of which we cannot deny, no books or miracles to cast about, no man-made tale…

Code of Justice (13th Violent Verse)

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Sex and Violence
I had a reputation a long time ago, I stood up to violence, to myself.

Early on I was strong willed, unafraid to hurt another, bust down the door, carried to bad reputation, fast, strong, underscored in a way without me. Trolley tracks on the highway, across the street, barbed wire base, parking lot towers, shore patrol see me, stumbling hair lip, bloody, busted, black-eyed gusher, tears from four and twenty bucks.Strategic tallness, strong laughter, coolness, colors larger than me, beating me down.

Jokers off another ship, against the fence, leaning from going down, wailing on my ire, victimless crime, photo, rahhhhh! Captain says, serve and protect. Towering eyes, stop drop and run down the easement, ship's bugler summons me and you and the fenced in trolley getaway. Made it home late, made it to safety, Lucky Thirteen. Bordered by authority, flagship admiral returns to the scene of carnage.

She cries. Everyone cries ...up until the end.


© 2010 by mark prime
Psyc…

Eye of Our Storm (12th Violent Verse of 2010)

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© Louise Woodard, Violent Passages, 1989.
There are violent beings, shells packed with noisy flesh, their fist digging their way out of a plate of armor like a god wielding immense wrath, as if angry at its own design, or angry that something melded its light into darkness. There are beasts heaving fists as hands, there are words, cruel as time, red as fire; a spirit piloting a monster, the least of kindness, a betrayal of mankind rising from the human ashes.

The caskets coming home are painted in war colors and move across our high definition eyes like slow-motion murder, There are warriors as pale as shame, diluted by counterfeit demands; weaklings baptized in the steady stream of blood; Charon steering away from goodness, his craft heaving with the dead and the dying with their obolus, imagining they’re sailing to Eden.

We are imprisoned by noise like a miner without air, like a child smashed in front of us, like death gripping our hands, motionless and loveless as it moves our lip…

Of My Path (11th Violent Verse of 2010)

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(click to enlarge) 

Center for Nonviolent Solutions ~ Characteristics of a nonviolent campaign:
▪ respect for the opponent/everyone involved-
▪ care for everyone involved-
▪ refusal to harm, damage or degrade people-
▪ if suffering is inevitable, willingness to take it on yourself rather than inflict it on others
▪ belief that everyone is capable of change-
▪ appeal to the opponents' humanity-
▪ recognition that no one has a monopoly of truth, so aims to bring together our 'truth' and the opponents' 'truth'-
▪ understanding that the means are the ends in the making, so the means have to be consistent with the end-
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And I told them, since goodness flows from my pores through fiery passion and underneath the feet of humanity, I shall alter my course to tunnel out from failure, irrigating the roots of my blossoms.

All around me I remember, recall kinship, my connection with those I see. I did not expect adoration to be waiting ahead of me, I imagined signs in the shape of…

The Purple Ribbon (10th Violent Verse of 2010)

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October 10th, 1582 Because of the implementation of the Gregorian calendar  this day does not exist in this year in Italy, Poland, Portugal and Spain.
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On this day without hours brutality marches by on stilts, untouched, resilient and red, ignored, teetering, on and off the edge, permitted to smolder with the others; the warrior, the peacemaker, the carpenter and baker.

So much dread, so little time. So many players, so little dared. More occasion than we’ve tolerance, more lifespan than pale seconds... tick tock, tick tock… again. Dislodged bones rising in the winter air, weighted only by love’s lingering infection; cruelty.


© 2010 by mark prime

Love is Respect - Domestic Violence Awareness