This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO

WRECKED 9



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)
(click to enlarge image)


The ACLU Dissappointed With Supreme Court's Voter ID Decision

Supreme Court's Worst: 1. Bush v. Gore 2. McCulloch v. Maryland 3. Wickard v. Filburn 4. Kelo v. New London 5. Buckley v. Valeo 6. Central Hudson Gas v. Public Service Commission 7. Fourth Amendment Jurisprudence 8. Korematsu v. U.S. 9. Baker v. Nelson


For the wrecked resistance of our minds,
they confine us and with their decrees
call out to the fearful, worn, and discarded
people with bent heads, bodies twisted,
buckled under labor and misuse;
they say, “Bow down! You're free!”
We should be unwilling of their control!
We must lift our weary heads above
the clatter of poverty and clang of war!
Cease this; our alarming and pathetic modesty!
Goddamnit! Rise up, and with the people’s might,
bend the mighty pillars of justice upright again!

© 2008 mrp/tpm


Rolling along ""...
Zelle's Blog



KNOTTED FACE



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)

I was wondering when my muse was going to lift my hand to the Zion Ranch story. It seems she had to control her anger. She loves children. She knows they are precious.

First, a bit of history on the FLDS.
FLDS - Fundamentalist Latter Day Saints (FLDS Church) is one of the largest Mormon fundamentalist denominations and one of America's largest practitioners of plural marriage. The FLDS Church emerged in the 1930s when its founding members left The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS). The Latter-day Saints renounced polygamy The FLDS and the LDS Church are distinct and separate religious denominations, having no currently existing ties.
FLDS headquarters are in Hildale, Utah, possibly shifting, as of late, to Eldorado, Texas, where the raided temple was built by FLDS members.
Warren Jeffs, who succeeded his father Rulon Jeffs in 2002, was leading the church for nearly two years even as a wanted man for sex-crimes. He was on the run, and on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List, until being apprehended in August of 2006. Jeffs was found guilty on September 25, 2007 of two counts of being an accomplice to rape and was sentenced to ten years to life in prison.

~

Now we need to see the reaction by the mothers of the FLDS ranch in El Dorado, Texas, to really appreciate the complexities of what has happened and what is happening…

Mothers at Zion Ranch Compound Plead to See Children
"My children were kidnapped for no reason," says one mother,
"They need their mother. I am a good mother and I want to be with my children," she added.
"My 11-year-old is being questioned about being with men and marriage, she doesn't know anything about that" said the second mother.
"I can't believe this is happening. It's outrageous this is happening in America." says the third mother.

As the buses swept children down a two-lane country highway and into another world, mothers calmed their young by singing a hymn of struggle and deliverance:

In the spirit of prayer! In the spirit of prayer!
That calls me from a world of care,
and bids me at my Father's throne
make all my wants and wishes known.


~

KSL.com reports – Texas Defends Separation
"The fact the children are being violated in mass numbers in America today, it saddens me beyond expression. Their environment is likened unto a pedophile's Disneyland."
Rena Mackert claims her sister was once held captive by what she calls "the cult" and threatened with blood atonement, i.e. death, when she tried to run away.
Her Life in the FLDS Compound
“Childhood within a fundamentalist Mormon community means little education, regular beatings, rigorously enforced household duties and, for girls, an arranged marriage in their teens culminating in a lifetime of subservience.”
"My father had four wives yet he couldn't keep his hands off his daughters," Rena Mackert, one of 31 siblings, said yesterday. "One of my sisters had five sons, all sodomised by their father."
Referring to her own experience, Rena's sister, Kathleen Mackert, said: "I was required to perform oral sex on my father when I was seven, and it escalated from there. The abuse was rampant. Physical, sexual, emotional — we experienced all three. Some of it at the hands of the men, some of it at the hands of the wives."
They spoke out as child protection workers continued to interview 416 children removed from the compound because they were at risk of, or were already victims of, neglect and sexual abuse.
"Women are vessels to be worn out in childbirth, and girls are having children at age 14, 15, 16," she said. "We have a high tolerance for religious freedom … and anything goes in the name of religion."

~

Yet it was the following plural marriage information I found during my search that truly sent my muse over the edge!

Plural Marriage (Shortage of wives caused by plural marriage)
Critics of polygamy in the early LDS church point out that polygamy may have caused a shortage of brides in the early LDS community, citing quotes by church leader Heber C. Kimball who said (addressing departing missionaries): "Brethren, I want you to understand that it is not to be as it has been heretofore. The brother missionaries have been in the habit of picking out the prettiest women for themselves before they get here, and bringing on the ugly ones for us; hereafter you have to bring them all here before taking any of them, and let us all have a fair shake.”

On another occasion, he said "You are sent out as shepherds to gather sheep together; and remember that they are not your sheep ... do not make selections before they are brought home and put into the fold."

~

A poem by thepoetryman with an angry muse at the helm...

~

The knotted face collapses out over the kingdom
and fatigued souls shriek throughout the far-flung air.
“Hush now, children. Don’t you cry”, this world, ever cruel,
now calls out, knowing your father’s made a mess of you.
“Hush now, children.”

O! Our hanging beast and its hunger for flesh and blood
seeping into America’s sovereign compound
where mite-edged outrage dances away on half-listened heels.

The knotted face collapses out and over this world’s shattered angels
as they guide the blade down the center of the field,
burdened by the labor, as old men grind their cruel, bent backs
over their blameless slaves of sacrificial intercourse,
this weight of fathers from whose hands they’re conquered
will hike their lashed rumps up in a dismal and obedient procession.
“Hush now, children. Hush.”

Is our rage enough to battle these wicked beasts of progeny who’s reason
is as unsentimental as the stone?
They won’t seem so evil once we’ve found our next war to wage.

Do we even dream outside of this infinite drain?
Do we imagine that someone will always care for those precious?

“Hush now, children.”
We adults will never be too far away, or too hideous.




© 2008 mrp/tpm



Rolling along "U"... un blogger SCEPTIK - UnAmerican Revolution - uncomfortably numb - Urban Unrest

FAILING STATE

While I struggle, happily, to finish my latest one-act play, Glenda's Ashes, I find only time to offer you some new photomontages and my newfound slant of poetry located on the new page, Head-Lines.

The play has grown more complicated than I had first imagined. My muse didn't find it necessary to inform me that she would make me start over six times! She is having her fun with me. Toying with my patience, dangling carrots in front of me. What am I, her mule or something? Prodding me until I near insanity, then, pulling back with her signature chortle, a grand and cynical guffaw!

I would say, if all goes as planned, the play will be presented here relatively soon... In the mean time enjoy the montages and the new fare on the new page.


If I say new one more time I may need medical attention!



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)






Read todays HEAD-LINES...
Rolling along "M"


MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. (emerald dream)



I Have a Dream - Address at March on Washington- August 28, 1963. Washington, D.C.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. [Applause]
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long
night of captivity.



I declare peace in this; thy emerald dream.
I declare peace in this; thy emerald dream.
I declare peace in this; thy emerald dream.
I declare peace in this; thy emerald dream.

Men, women, children, all and every color
Rise up to meet me in this nomadic vapor.
Rise up! Greet me with thy soul’s civility,
I can ask no more and no less of thee.

Affirm the worlds waiting stillness with me.
Bring thy grace, let go thy mortal weaponry.
Rise up in the streets of the towns and cities,
Rise up! Tilt thy angry faces toward the sun!

Emerald dream, I march with thee this day.
I stride with thee… sharing thy morning walk,
I sit with thee… and drink at thy table,
I speak with thee… though I see thee not.

O! Ghost in the shade of want come forth,
Walk with me, walk with me in my trance!
I declare peace in this; thy emerald dream,
Open eyed to it grasping thy bleeding chance!

O! We tongueless ones in our painful disgrace
Let us not use deceit to twist the patient hands failing,
Instead let us smile upon the poor lives of all men
and carry this emerald sheen with a proud face!



Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman


Dissendent Voice

MLK - I Have a Dream

Rolling along "F"...
Faith in Honest Doubt - Faithfully Liberal - Follow Me Here...Forever Under Construction - Forms Most Beautiful - Fran I Am - Freeway Blogger - Freida Bee - From the Left - Full-Soul Ahead - furry friends

AWARENESS (Autism Awareness Day)



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)



Enchanted is what they are,
the autistic.
All around us, angels, spirits,
divine brightness, rescuers of the missing,
the forlorn, the poor, the felled and falling.
In this world, we call civilization,
They are the living beams,
the brittle boned
Bringing us gradually `round to ourselves.

There are the disbelievers,
the cynics.
Those that try the patience of good souls,
those who stare in slack jawed awe
at disparity, at oddity, at the brightness
of their own ignorance. I suppose they
cannot help but gawk or scoff;
untrained of such clarity in a world gone mad.

If they but look beyond themselves,
wipe the steam from their lenses,
peer beyond the misgivings and murkiness
of the humdrum streets they haunt…
They would, if they knew what they were missing.

It’s the silent truths, like newborn fawns in the morning light,
Stumbling awkwardly, eyes opening brand new,
Searching their way to the fore of the earth,
The one we’re granted, the one we reduce to nothing
When we stare and laugh at the things that mystify.
When we bellow and berate our own pitiable reality
Met with a light that can do us no harm,
It is we who embody the strangeness we fear the most.

Shall we accept ourselves this way
Or shall we recognize the face of our faltering beast?

They scatter their tracks for us to follow.
Let us go forth and smile with them.



© 2008 mrp/tpm

Arriving at Your Own Door a poem by Derek Walcot on Full-Soul Ahead

Also read this delightful story, Nine Letter Word for Nuts at Full-Soul Ahead...
Rolling along "D"...


CONFESSION ZERO



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)

Baghdad year zero:
Pillaging Iraq in pursuit of a neocon utopia
by Naomi Klein

It was only after I had been in Baghdad for a month that I found what I was looking for. I had traveled to Iraq a year after the war began, at the height of what should have been a construction boom, but after weeks of searching I had not seen a single piece of heavy machinery apart from tanks and humvees. Then I saw it: a construction crane. It was big and yellow and impressive, and when I caught a glimpse of it around a corner in a busy shopping district I thought that I was finally about to witness some of the reconstruction I had heard so much about. But as I got closer I noticed that the crane was not actually rebuilding anything—not one of the bombed-out government buildings that still lay in rubble all over the city, nor one of the many power lines that remained in twisted heaps even as the heat of summer was starting to bear down. No, the crane was hoisting a giant billboard to the top of a three-story building. SUNBULAH: HONEY 100% NATURAL, made in Saudi Arabia. (Read the rest…)


CONFESSION ZERO
a poem by thepoetryman


To the immense, retiring radiance
that drapes her fair-haired domes,
I do offer a sorrowful observation;

Small pieces of a jagged existence,
displaced flesh and bones of camels,
slumping across the humus and clay.

Some say it is an alluvial landscape
that spans the ground, but the crimson
rasping this day is more human than soil.

More someone than beast, feet than hooves,
and soiled in the foul strides of battle.
I say onward into obscurity,
or make known your pledge in the redness.

It isn’t clay, or the rose-hued earth, it is loss.

Iraqis are made of the same flesh as we,
feet and toes and a breathing rhythmic spirit.
The same bone, snapping when trampled.
The same ideals and lovelorn heartache.
The same glimmer and smile and glee.
The same child and mother and father.
The same.

To the vast and vanishing gleam
that enfolds her lovely peoples,
I do offer this mournful confession.



© 2008 mrp/tpm

Rolling along "C"...

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