Skip to main content

O! Machines of Blood! (Saturday 1/16/10 Head-Lines)


Haiti: Up to 200,000 feared dead
Where are your ancestors? When will this throbbing subside? Why do the talons inject their agony inside the tattered bone? (Words shall never hold you as dear.)

UN launches Haiti relief appeal
When they did wake they began to sing. They began to chant their fortune over corpses, stepping carefully so as not to nudge them. Though they bid them rise… their beauty remained.

Quake Prompts Respite For Haitians Illegally In U.S.
Go home when time drifts over your land, return to the sun when the ground is made whole and peace puts her warm hands upon your mournful eyes.

Outside Port-au-Prince, 'towns are absolutely destroyed'
O famished ministers of grief, sinister murderers of time, hold your blood machine until they’ve chance to weep, cease your plowing until their graves are made deep.

Angry Haitians Take to Street as Relief Trickles In
Like a dog alone in a cage does make such piteous clamor when no one appears to be coming- they steal their startled love within.

© 2010 by mark prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...
Post a Comment
read the poem

FAULT METER

FAULT METER    When you get a question wrong you will hear three loud beeps followed by an even louder ticking of a clock.    (Like tick-tick-tick-tick-tick?)    You are half right.    (Like tock-tock-tock-tock-tock?)    You got two halves of it.    (Then I give up!)    You do?    (It ain’t out of weakness, it’s my adhdad.) I understand.    (You understand what?)    That it’s not out of any weakness on your part.    (Weakness, on my part in what?)    Never mind, it’s definitely adhdad.     •    We float, we fly, we soar! We find our wings in each other. We find friends, cousins of the one seed of existence. An existence which never began, but always was, that loves us enough to provide life’s needs, our own, the same. A collection of living peacekeepers upon the surface of the most heavenly example known to them. • © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem