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THROUGH THE AIR (Head-Line Poetry)

US imposes new sanctions on Iran The weather’s beginning to move again like a scolded child unsure of what’s next. The icy rebuke might be the last of it, unless the forecast breathes of thunder… after that, no child will be safe. Security Guards Look on as Teen Is Beaten We do not witness ourselves lifting a hand to come crashing down upon an innocent and within this vision we’re trapped, of no use. Living inside this dream, a sort of emptiness, an opposing sun, the adversary of light. Iran warns against expected anti-government protests They walk on feet made of hope, shoulders unstooped by any cruel weight, hands moving through the air like a kite, at times almost motionless, the next, unexpectedly soaring. Arctic Ice Melting About 4 Times as Fast as Predicted They talk within us, speaking the language of wolves, interpreters of the ice and wind standing on the top of the moon, reaching down toward our famine. Sarah Palin calls global warming studies ‘snake oil science...

Winter's Storm

The bitter dust of winter delivers her speech leaving a feeble shell over a once vaulted honor. She prattles from the arctic basin as my hands move over my disbelief, how can this pale ghost, with her invalid procession, consume expectation like a feral beast? O! We’ll greet her breathless yelping with sideways glances kept for fools and open the gates to her weather, her misbegotten storm winking deep within our better selves. She drinks our tidal melancholy left beneath our plodding steps, sadness felled of our waiting, drifts to a pitiable weight. The bitter dust of winter will pitch us into uncertain folly, statesmen will lather the tempest as she strokes them in madness. © 2010 by mark prime

As in Weeping Skies (Blogroll Amnesty Day 2010)

As in the silver waters the thinkingbridge of man still fancies peace Palestinian mothers known to the spoils of blood yearn for quietude, Angry black women still waiting to be heard pray in harmony and the men who love men of inequity embrace serenity As in expectant woman carrying the weight of love the fate of peace And we who read now with sky-blue hope have eyes for dreaming and in our course we liberate more than the weeping skies... © 2010 by mark prime Blog Amnesty Day

GUILTY (1/29/10 Head-Line Poetry for Friday)

Tony Blair on Iraq: I'd do it again A massive head hurls itself across our span. Its cracked lips, pursed with shame, come with their rumbling at our pane, “I’d do it again and again.” their refrain, ad nauseum. U.S. Economy Grew at Fastest Pace in 6 Years Last Quarter Be a pair of hands to lie in, lift our eyes so we might gaze upon the world’s wars and hunger like honest men. 15-Day Haiti Survival Pushes Human Limits You cannot have her, death! She is for the living, their quake-filled love and breath, their examined dread. Plan to scuttle 'don't ask, don't tell' ready It’ll come ‘round with an uneasiness, the general expected. Its disparity noshes at closet doors, the private imagined. Activist Roeder convicted of abortion provider's murder With this, the groups do congregate and begin their counter-insurgency. These armies of most righteous men begin to gnaw at their dripping sores like creatures who worship murder. Obama Said to Consider ...

Revolting History, an ode for Howard Zinn

Howard Zinn dies of a heartattack at age 87 The wish for a coming revolt of the guards did not emerge with any expectant breath or a momentous rebellion of thunder. Instead, it passed between the dreaming walls of our hope. Silent and mortified, it wove its way near the heart and fell away breathless. We hungered for its branding mark to walk upon our shields. We’re ready for the next great one, the next sun to etch its words on our caution. We see ourselves as we imagine, a rescuer, a warrior of unending good, a rebel without history looking for a voice to call his own. We've tossed our coins into the breathing fountain and hidden our shame in the thankless gutter, we've carried our bodies across our days like hand grenades, immigrants in a strange land of heavy skies. © 2010 by mark prime A People's History Howard Zinn... rest in peace. Tweet This!

Lift the Veil (Wednesday Head-Lines 1/27/10)

French report calls for veil ban Lift the veil, steal their faces in sideways glances shrouded by our breath. What frightens us so that freedom's then veiled? Rich-poor gap 'wider than 1970s' Then, one by one, they fell, unseen and we wept in redness like rain made from flesh while the quaver of far-flung war breached our thunder. Report: North, South Korea exchange fire This spiraling dread and blaze neighbors nothing very good or wanted in the layered storm, a world of fear and flame. Poll: Half say start anew on health care bill Which half brings forth this desire, those with or without, the dead or the dying, the wicked or the chaste? Because half of nothing won’t fly. Israel's PR exploitation of Haiti aid Put on your mask of madness, make-believe with another’s grief that you've come to rescue sorrow, awaken them with your sandman, tiptoeing across the trembling loam with machines already drenched in blood. © 2010 by mark prime Tweet T...

Nothing Perceptible (Head-Lines Sunday 1/24/10)

Haiti survivor pulled out of rubble It was the dust covered hair that first caught our attention, it was the pulse and the breath that moved over us with a quiver. Biden Says U.S. Will Appeal Dismissal of Charges Against Blackwater Guards Let them be the last of this murder, pushed aside like the leper, made to exit the green fortress to witness what they’ve made. Massachusetts Message: Not satisfied with promised 'change' The people, without clocks or history, leapt out angrily at the slowness of time only to see the street hovering overhead and their feet touching the sky. Scientists say scanner can detect PTSD in veterans As the band of light navigated the body it detected something indiscernible and when it penetrated the soldier’s eyes there was nothing to discern at all. Supreme Court OKs unlimited corporate spending on elections And there it came without warning, without so much as a whimper, the razor-taloned scratch of five whores covered in the pus of...