This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO
Showing posts with label mankind. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mankind. Show all posts

A Memorial Moratorium



(A Poetic Justice Photomontage)


When this moment, this now tortured moment
Wraps talons `round our grave limbs…
This day floats down.

When our breath is burdened
Of a heart grown weak of dread
From skies tight with fuming planes
And steel beams bending from the sun…
This day floats down.

When grenades are tossed like flowers
So blooms might flourish in darkness…
This day floats down.

When our country begs for silence
Imploring peace to come head high...
This day floats down.

O Memorial Day should rise up
Bring us to a new battle, invigorate
The sense for peace with man’s daughter.
All of our arrogant and glowing murder...
This day floats down.



© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman


Between...


Between the century and the shoe
came the war, the torture,

the injustice and the blood,
the rage and the sorrow
and the tapping and the flood.

Between the eleventh and the crash
came the shock, the awe,
the anguished and the dreaded,
the widowed and the scourged,
the bombed and beheaded.

Between the reign and the snow
came the child’s vacant stare,
the grief and the wrath,
the tears and the scowl,
the starving and the flag.

Between the heaven and the hell
came the lies and the spin,
the tanks and the guns,
the free and imprisoned,
mankind and his sun.

There were no angels….


© 2008 mrp/tpm


Craig Welch takes viewers inside a surreal, meticulously crafted world to meet a mysterious protagonist and his otherworldly visitor.

In this surreal exposition, we meet a man, obsessed with control. His intricate gadgets manipulate yet insulate, as his science dissects and reduces. How exactly are wings attached to the back of angels? In this invented world drained of emotion, where everything goes through the motions, he is brushed by indefinite longings. Whether he can transcend his obsessions and fears is the heart of the matter. A film without words.

Directed by : Craig Welch. Produced in 1996...








-How Wings are Attached to the Backs of Angels-

HONORABLE THIRST

"Of the nearly 150,000 Coalition Forces presently in Iraq, 99.9 percent of them perform their jobs magnificently every day," Chiarelli said. Of those troops, about 130,000 are from the United States. "They do their duty with honor under difficult circumstances. They exhibit sound judgment, honesty and integrity. They display patience, professionalism and restraint in the face of a treacherous enemy. And they do the right thing even when no one is watching," Chiarelli said. He added, however, that "unfortunately, there are a few individuals who sometimes choose the wrong path."


O! Bring your beautiful shores and thy hope’s beacon,
Shine light down on them equally, a white hotness!
You are thirsty; laden with the soul’s strained lumber
And filled with dread and death soaked in the ache of living.

O! Cry out rain of fortune! Cry out from thy staggered torrent
And pitiable veil of bereavement! I am thy mourning cradle!
I am thy tongueless teacher pacing the cave of thy day
And wrestling thy fragile soul in your hours of darkness!

O! Bring thy beautiful shores and thy hope’s guiding light
Douse them with the flame of thy shelled out yearning!
Be thy hungry? Feast upon the bomb-wrapped soul of thy enemy
Nurture thy pangs with the blood of fellow man in a gentle manner.

Soak your tears upon the moist cloth of mankind.
Wrap thy arms around her and carry her to your bed
Where thou can dream of perfection and stained expectation
Only to be shaken wide-eyed by thy dreams of slaughter
And finally see that, indeed, both cravings, both aspirations
Might so effortlessly stroke one another in madness.


Copyright © 2006 mrp
Get in Their Face
Gladly Suffering Fools


Open Letters to George W. Bush

The Ravings of a Semi-sane Madwoman

SET UPON THE ROAD




We are set upon a road
And that road is mankind
It is dangerous
It is loathsome
It is beautiful
Perhaps you have seen its path
In paintings most stunning
In the pirouette of night
In the openhanded gesture
Or glanced in the sleeping child

We are set upon this road
And that road is mankind
Try as we might
We cannot take another
It is this one we’ve been granted
This one we’ve oft smiled upon
This is the path of our founding
We may decorate it with laughter
And desecrate it, sully it, with dread
But we may not absolve its occasion
When wars conjure the spirit’s bed

We are set upon this road
And that road is mankind
A shower of stars cannot tap it
The impoverishment of man's good
May slim chance alter living’s course
It is this chance, this aperture
Of which we must seize, grasp of
Shilly-shallying of this anointed gift
Would be man’s greatest sin
Grasp and hold dear friends
Take hold of this and begin again





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