Right-wing extremists strike again
Do not be deceived by this murder
Do not be deceived by this cruelty
Do not be deceived by their terror
Do not be deceived
The revolution will be collective
The revolution will be peaceful
The revolution will be loving
The revolution will be
The revolution will be heard
The revolution will be seen
The revolution will be felt
The revolution will be
The revolution will be beautiful
The revolution will be joyous
The revolution will be kind
The revolution will be
The revolution will be
Peace and Love
Student and teen gunman dead in Oregon school shooting
The scowl had their attention through the barrel's aim,
a solemnity, dark eyes, without panic.
Death landed with a voice,
a message entered the flesh, God awoke.
Death. God awoke.
Death. God awoke.
Death.
Now is not the time to mourn as if there is no answer.
God awoke.
Iraq militants seize Mosul, causing thousands to flee
What have we loosed?
Trembling red palms are our only cover.
These, our bodies, thrown like dice
and tumbling apart over the arid streets,
piercing a recent calm of cunning beasts,
liars, hunkered down and scheming.
One cannot defeat what it knowingly breeds
when in the blood-soaked bed of her devotion,
blending colors of such a miserable kingdom.
Fear can only be conquered when truth returns
as bright and gentle as a breathing child.
US investigates five 'friendly-fire' troop deaths
When the last merry gun had stilled
And the cannons no more their glee
The friendly hillside fully tipped
And poured forth a failing moan.
© 2014 Mark Richard Prime
What have we loosed?
Trembling red palms are our only cover.
These, our bodies, thrown like dice
and tumbling apart over the arid streets,
piercing a recent calm of cunning beasts,
liars, hunkered down and scheming.
One cannot defeat what it knowingly breeds
when in the blood-soaked bed of her devotion,
blending colors of such a miserable kingdom.
Fear can only be conquered when truth returns
as bright and gentle as a breathing child.
US investigates five 'friendly-fire' troop deaths
When the last merry gun had stilled
And the cannons no more their glee
The friendly hillside fully tipped
And poured forth a failing moan.
© 2014 Mark Richard Prime
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