Skip to main content

It Was All Supposed to Mean Something...


How…
Where’d I fail the creation? Was it in my failure to yield? Was it purposeful? Was it the truth as far as I knew?

(I know nothing, save where perversions of truth discharge from the robot’s mouths in disbelief.)

Why…
Knowledge is to be respectful and unlimited, save for that which enslaves me, save for that which separates my love and conquers my dancing soul.

What…
My loving belief of self and of belief in the whole of life, everything; stone, sea, mountain, valley, river, canyon, prairie, desert, flora and animal... Everything.

I must humble myself for peace… I must answer this question for myself, do I imagine that I'm an animal or do I imagine that I'm a god?

Who...
Man: I’d set aside my belief if war would bow, put belief on hold if hunger would vanish!

Woman: I’d change my belief if the wind asked it of me!

Man: Or if the mountain wailed, “Enough!” or if the sea ebbed and moaned, “End this..!”

I'd let it all go if I were convinced Jesus had proclaimed, “Peace and Love… Walk in Goodness.” or “Brother’s and sisters, if you stooped less and served more, you’d not resemble a fool."

If he had indeed said that, I’d worship the man, but not like I worship myself where I end up ruining the whole of Love.

The choice is mine, mine alone.

Where...
If the horse trembles with a thirst for love, or the lion demands I lift my eyes to life or if the forest says welcome home... will I speak?

Yes.

When...
Now.


© 2011 by mark prime


Comments

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
........•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...

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