CONFESSION ZERO

Suicide Attack in Pakistan Kills 75 The careful plodding of men with vengeance worn like a sweater stretched tight upon their soul greet us in languages we need learn but will not while there’s war to be made. Iraqis outraged as Blackwater case thrown out Anger, bleeding like the mouth of two rivers found in the drought of justice, shall soon flow by other means. Missed signals cleared way for suspect to board plane Fear was no longer the weight increased by our strategy, our steel shelter that drapes us like scarves, but again it was ready to acquire its place, adorned on foreign shoulders. Iran reformist criticizes government crackdown Ahead of the darkness, within the lucid entrance of freedom, the flesh of civilian, driven by feet breathing rainfall, demands to be heard. Their story shall be told. Pakistan Taliban claims it carried out CIA attack  -  CIA Resolved to Avenge Agents' Deaths Between them both sits a jackal with red eyes set upon its prey, pati...

Lessons learned from 9/11 terrorist attacks? What is it that the wail of our voice has given us in the stamp of days lurching forward on the damp streets, eyes upon our feet, omitting the faces reflected in this glass grown in our hands and thickened skies over the oceans clot of war’s nectar, man’s squander, while mountains give way to unconscious machines, voices, wooden with a thick green-love? What is it that the wail of our voice has given us that the march of a grassless plain or an iceless crest cannot sign, we gauge their descent like a killer, set to be forgiven sins we’ll soon commit, as pointed fingers wag at the surging breach leaning its majesty over the dampened sun. © 2010 by mark prime

He has taken off his sandals. His feet seem new as he moves about. The sandals have been on for far too long. Walking in them seems pointless. Within one hundred yards a crowd has begun to grow from the moans of protest because something lives there. Something breathes the jarring dust of solitude and cries out without a throat, tongue lashed to pretense with all the trappings of hostilities’ offspring. O! He wishes to see the sun! Alone, unshackled, while wearing his own sandals, his own clothes, his own wish, his own sky! How long now has it been? Years… years alone. Loneliness is just a word, like worship or friendship or death. This man has a crowd of words, a horde of thoughts that are his, yet heavy with chains like some rabid beast. His voice now an echo unto himself. Unto himself. He has concluded his begging for freedom and is now ready to move along. He had things he wanted to give away. He had things he wanted to relinquish like rolling thunder. But...

We stand out in the cold for the fog of life to paint our silver breath on the thickened air, we cock our heads to watch it drift away, vanish really, to assure us that we’re living. We clasp our beating wrist with our fingers to hear life’s deep thrum holding rhythm, while the things of art and sky whirl and our hearts complete what our tongues cannot speak. We make no murmur as we enter into nightfall and have no pang as the birds return the sun, this is the world and we sway with her. O! Lean down with your tears of morning for our delight And when the lords of death thrust their blades, hold us near, and steady our lance that they might feel our resistance in the red corridors of dream! Keep the lords of death at bay until our child is ready! We stand out in the cold for the fog of life to paint our silver breath on thickened air, we cock our heads to watch it drift away, vanish really, to assure us of our living. We are tired of these charlatans of supervision with their...

Of their time, the goal was set by cruel decree, strident air inside the darkness, makeshift home, the winter birds in their towering cage, peering out at all the swagger of green, ground level feeding under neon strobe where filled yellow taxis and fancy blue suits jingle turnstile iciness against the ancient use of this globe. This is where children dream, dirt and cardboard cushioning their hunger with cold and fierce eyes, holding them close, kissing their thinning red lips, and the concrete humming low, echoing, hungry beasts marching toward their grief like a serenade of giants rising out of the fiery ash,  Brontes, Steropes and Arges reaching up in fury with brightness, thunder, and lightning. They rise not for the hordes of sleep-tattered children, they rise for the noise made of coldness, their heated hands wrapped in lava with the reaping of the unkind upon their breath. They’ll seek the cultivators of gloom, the progenitors of war and the ravenous well-to-do so ther...

Official: Obama rejects Afghan options When clarity hoisted its unruffled head, persuading tolerance and harmony, it asked but one simple question, what is all this hurry for digging graves? Get ready, America: Here comes Sarah Palin For the same reason we do not pick the green fruit from the tree, we must not, no matter how moved, select the greenest of ourselves to lead, and when faced with rotten fruit, we must be quick in discarding it altogether. American Adviser to Kurds Stands to Reap Oil Profits Now that they are able to see it, the people, waiting, grinding their teeth, their trust frail, a miserable pledge they’d heard before, a ruse, cuddles up next to an ashen liberty. Host Lou Dobbs To Leave CNN In the room with the talking box, where we gather to be awash in consumption, a tiny flicker adheres to our wonder. Women Can’t be Trusted to Make Their Own Healthcare Decisions They show them the tools of liberty, guns, tanks, planes, bombs, rockets, chairs, boards, ...

Service honors fallen at Fort Hood Within all that is observed and undetectable, a memorial service, somber, a knot in the quaking cosmos. The boots and helmets and guns at attention. They stand ever still staring like creation, the devout sermons trailing them, leak a thimble of truth. Deadly blast hits Pakistani town This day’s count as it leaps, higher still, and where death rushes in, a blinding illumination crests within the winter of those still living. States Mold School Policies to Win Federal Money This is backwards! A wingless bird. A toothless shark. A blind guide. A spoken secret. A vivid shadow in the well lit dark. Vatican Scientists Seek Evidence Of Alien Life Galileo challenged them once, but this isn’t confrontation, this is the waste of spirit in a sky of seeking gods. Big Bankers Say They're Doing God's Work ... Are They Right? This would be the stuff of fairy tales, if not for its being bankrupt of justice, the wolf, after all, tried to convinc...