CONFESSION ZERO

(Hadron Collider from engadget ) Was Roswell 'Flying Saucer' Mystery a Soviet Plot? There are limits to a thickening plot even where aliens rise. Their skin had my attention as it glided by my befuddled gaze, passed by in solemnity, large eyes, without panic. They landed with a warning, a kind message for a self-destructing world. Doomsdays: Dubious and Deferred The endurance of the tick tock grumbles near me, marking off a cautionary demise. Three, two… One minute out. The racket of the car horn, the driver crashing fists through time. Mummy Had Earliest Case of Heart Disease Kings wrapped in golden hearts called out to sleepy sentinels nodding their walk along the turret, “Be vigilant! Protect your king!” Silence… Syrian troops 'kill 30 protesters after Friday prayers’ Love untaken still floats with fondness. Lethal bullets pierce proper affections. Prayers not flown, sink in sorrow...

( Guardian.co.uk ) Laugh child and skip on home now. Forget the clang of the tin can echoing down the alleyway, you’ve joy, school’s out soon and you're tired of lies. You run to the corner and steady yourself on the concrete path, the programmed route where your kind and dog walk with hints of madness. Let the sea hold your limbs, your spleen. Tall shadows crumple in exhaustion over whistling gutters in an obscure baptism as you move alongside them. Mom’s waiting. Forget the bogeyman, he’s dead. Don’t you know that war sent him seaward with steel shoes that sank like a mother’s heart? Dread has vanished along with affection and truth. Love’s more like the tin can than the bogeyman. © 2011 by mark prime