Skip to main content

Exhale/Inhale Her Creation


Oh that breathes so much better now that we’re not standing on Love’s neck, beauty down.

Pluck! Pluck! Pluck upon your strings seeking her grace and forgiveness. Her heart breaks! Her love screams! Her love quakes! Call, call, call, call, love…

~

The End. Swaying to the music, lifting our spirits where they may.

If you hang on spirit, you sense the urgency in her tongue. Crashing, broken heart, along the way we’ll figure it all out, Love…

~

Creation damns it now. I should have understood from the beginning, I do have a choice to make.

How can it be a choice when your mind’s already overrun with lies?

Waft now cello, let go thy breath, exhale in when death, inhale after death, exhale after death, until they become more than less than nothing. See her cry? Her shores, her streams, her majesty, look at her rivers! Look at her rivers! Look!


© 2011 by mark prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
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

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