This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


.....“It is I, evil. I am the true iniquity. Heed the colorless rage.”


I could no longer hear the strange tongue.
It was less a language, more a breathless noise.

.....Hello? Hello? Hello? I am here. I am listening. Speak.

Silence, yet I could feel it reaching, pleading, breathing.

.....*Of the good in you I may speak, but not of your evil.
.....Wickedness is but your good tortured by its hunger, its thirst.


A massive sea monster woven of fleece haunted my spirit,
Streaming banners praying for blood dangled from my thoughts,
Desiccated faces marched before the attendance of authority,
Weeping cities raised proud their flags and chanted breathlessly.

A throne made of water stood now before me and my abomination
And the war-tapped black sky began its ballet upon the forlorn moon.
Staggering and once proud men took flight in jets made of crumbs
And tumbled down- a hailstorm of counterfeit promises and iniquity.

.....I am here. I am listening. Speak.


Copyright © 2006 mrp

To deepen your understanding of the poem read
Peacechick Mary's entry
It's Not Good, Nor Bad at

Knock Knock

*Kahlil Gibran*

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