Skip to main content

Between Truth and My Thoughts


You awoke too early, the dance hadn't begun.

I begged to differ. The twisted tale came roaring like a river set loose its tether, like a rock ballad lifted high in its belief. The song plays now, if I choose to hear it.

Listen... Listen... Listen! Listen... Listen… Listen! Listen. Listen. Listen!

Love’s what brought me to belief. What’s between the thought and the ear is too great a distance to ever rise. What’s between my reality and my thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? What’s between all reality and collective thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? I’m in heaven.

I look around me and what do I see? Love, family, laughter. The thing that must set us free from who we’ve become and allow us to remember who we were and her plea that we love.

Are you my daughter? The spirit of Love blows now southward, beyond the raging rush hours, outside of self, just being. What courage is found in denying it any longer, they are upon me with Love, I upon them with Love’s command for my embrace. With reflections casting pearls, Love and laughter and the landscape littered with fear- I recall this feeling, it felt like cherish the mother, my beholden, my Love, my worship, my daughter. I think I may have stumbled upon heaven.

We can believe what we want, we needn’t reality to dream, they’ve enough wasted in this moment. Time is an absurd concept! How dare we attempt to scribble our hate-filled foolishness upon the Heart(H) of Love?

That which is Love. You are my child. Daughter, it is me.

Love... Love... Love... Love... Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen. Love…




© 2011 by mark prime


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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
32 comments
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

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
12 comments
read the poem