Skip to main content

The Revolution of Truth (Head-Lines, 2/10/11)

Reports: Mubarak May Step Down
Yesterday’s news serenades Egypt with freedom’s fleeting look,
woos Egyptians with the triumphant echo in "coup d'état",
kisses them tomorrow with the grizzled lips of deceit.

Egypt's Mubarak refuses to quit
All the leftover promises from the most recent discontent have all been drained away,
never realized, lifted from the people’s satchel with beaks woven from tyranny…

Mubarak Does Not Step Down or “Leave” as Egyptians Had Wanted
As if a gun had been fired just above their heads,
the blast fell hard upon them!
The bullet echoed of heartbreak, of unreturned promise.
The final word- “Leave!” ricocheting off the revolutionary tongue…

Handover or (Military) Coup?
Boots stamping along the streets, are they friend or foe,
enemy or ally, handover or takeover,
are they the noise made when a gun barrel’s held against the temple?
Might they be the hands of mercy and love?

Defiant Mubarak refuses to resign
This dominion of cruelty’s lunged forth in a final illusory huff of air.
Fearful and failing, escape grimaces.


© 2011 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
........•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

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