Skip to main content

Faces of Clocks (16th Violent Verse of 2010)


Right-wing extremism is gaining new momentum, according to a Southern Poverty Law Center report released today on the Sovereign Citizens movement. The report, entitled "Sovereign Citizen Kane," claims the group - an offshoot of the Patriots movement - may have as many as 300,000 members.
~

I gulped down time with profound hunger. An urge for timelessness, no more clocks or tick tock, no more hours of dread and finality shining through the window like shadows recollecting the death in me; the mauling, the pale embrace, the faint breath, the last act of magic, blazing like a shooting star, rocketing across the firmament, entangled like a drunken lover.

O my love, miserable majesty, focusing upon deceit inside the bronze idols that stand ready to fold into the sun’s care; a bendable sorrow and revered truth, worshiping the earth’s breathing on the harsh roadway lined with snares that hide the potholes like an I.E.D. buried under my sovereign face. O love! Timeless garlands lingering near my ready grasp, an urgent wish upon my face without hands.


© 2010 by mark prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
32 comments
read the poem

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman
12 comments
read the poem

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...
23 comments
read the poem