CONFESSION ZERO

The leaves falling look burnt plummeting to the dry ground. The trees are calling to me in the wind; caveats of a gold and brown foliage weaving a blanket to hold autumn in. The people falling look tired tumbling to their final respite. To them the gunships are calling down; warning of a god-fouled battle that stuffs their children in the ground. The truth of these events, the summers scorched leaves and the cheerless weather of roaring guns, is that the moving images of surrender are an omen of a reckless storm. © 2010 by mark prime Proudly on Wikileaks' Side

I’m... © 2010 by mark prime Project For A New American Century

Anytime I say the word “laughter” I want you to laugh out loud, okay? “Laughter”… 4,731 U.S. and Coalition forces killed in Iraq divided by the cost of the occupation to date, equals 200 hundred and 78 million, 500 and 99 thousand, 800 and 82 dollars per death! Add in the number of Iraqi civilian casualties and the number of Iraqi Police killed and the individual net worth is around 1,284 dollars! By the time we leave here tonight, the net worth of every single human being killed in the Occupation of Iraq will be worth less than… 0 (zero)- 1, 2, 3, yellow pine, aroma aloft, the stench of a war crime I’d watched. 5, 6, 7, these three boxes suffered the horror of a million gutless tongues, the marching numbers are a mausoleum of shattered year. 11, 12, 13, they track existence down and crush it where it stands and they wait and wait and rapidly they spring- 16, opening fire, winding the clock of flesh with invariable death, and the laughter? Well it calls out for another set, so poli...

It was after noon, because we’d just had lunch. She asked me to walk her home, but I had to get back to work. She was a dear friend of mine. Other than that, all I can tell you is that it was bright that day, not a cloud in the sky. I can’t tell you more than that because that’s all I know. She could’ve told you the weight of his fist on her mouth or how his anger leapt out and the impression it made on her soul, but I can’t tell you that, because I don’t know. She could’ve told you that after a week or so her broken skin would creep back over the abrasions and only the gaping holes in the walls would attest to his maddened decorations and she could’ve told you how her heart would become a hungry child when his rage fed upon her fear. She could’ve told you, in her own way, that she knew, that she pleaded, that she prayed that his crimson rage and fist-fallen fury would grow weary and just walk away. Or how when he wasn’t even there that his hands still scratched at her breasts and...

A boy I knew when I was a kid was so skinny we called him “handrail” . His tattered clothes fell around him like shadows at a funeral and no one ever saw him in the cafeteria, except on Fridays with his flop-over and his raw potato in an oily paper sack where he’d savor every little bite as if the executioner waited with his ax. I want to write an end of hunger love song where all the high note’s are composed of delicious meats to coat the hungry dreams and low notes are made of half eaten happy-meals, but not emptiness, and with endless verses carved from full tummies of sleep! I have heard many other songs in yesterday’s mist shattering truth down like dried bones and clinched fist, a silent breaking, minds masked in private pain, man’s own howling and craving and loss, his bane. So please take note of the end of hunger love song and elevate it’s joy to an immeasurable tallness, lift starvation beyond the tapering gaze, our bones lay gently down, near enough to cuddle w...

Mankind must call upon bravery and conquer his ache for control. He is obliged to take the hair from the beards of all of his prophets and weave them as one within the wrathful garment of his god. He must take each flag on earth and knit them together… and with the final flame of his ego set his housecoat ablaze, for as true as the telling winds have engraved all living things, mankind’s story must be rewritten upon his failing storm. In the garden of man’s war, upon his throne of mirrors, he has held sword and scepter against his brother and sister and miserably woven the hour of darkness upon his sun. Atop the breathing plains he has taken life from the living and exalted the dead. Within the temples of his wretchedness he has generously bowed to spineless rulers and smiled upon stolen pleasure whilst his mouth fell prey to the thievery of hunger. His frightened gaze into chasms of manifest doom shrouded in the cloth of his waking has curved his seeing sky a...

Picture by Darko Bandic, AP This Week In Memoriam | Crooks and Liars The Pentagon released the names of eight service members killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. US Marines LCpl  Philip P Clark , 19, Gainesville, FL US Army PFC  Jason D Fingar , 24, Columbia, MO US Army SPC  Stanley J Sokolowski III , 26, Ocean Township, NJ US Army SSG  Amilcar H Gonzalez , 26, Miami, FL US Army PFC  Christopher R Barton , 22, Concord, NC US Army MAJ  Ronald W Culver Jr , 44, Shreveport, LA US Army SGT  Edwin Rivera , 28, Waterford, CT US Marines Cpl  Jacob C Leicht , 24, College Station, TX According to iCasualties, the total number of  allied soldiers killed in Iraq is 4,718; in Afghanistan, 1,789 . During this same period, Iraq Body Count lists  77 Iraqi civilians killed . In Afghanistan,    "human error" has been blamed for a February rocket/missile attack .   Spencer Ackerman has a post on drone attacks and civilian casua...