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Showing posts from May 1, 2011

Might it be...

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If I come into a belief, which is only mine, not theirs, nor yours, but a private diary, and cross the threshold with great passion, will I still believe when the sword’s are drawn? Might grace enter downstage and speak, or will rage stumble on and pierce the air? Might Love’s aria wag her tender tongue, or will she draw her breath from selfish prayer? If I come to faith pleading upon my knees, might I witness humility groveling before me? O! I cannot know! I can only begin my walk…

© 2011 by mark prime

Most-Wanted (Head-Lines - May 7, 2011)

Muslim group: two imams pulled from plane bound for North Carolina
Thump, thump, thump stays my green rhythm as the wits usher in my red and howling belief.

Haven’t I the growling stomach as fear’s signal? When did my empathy cease the thump of Love?

My laughter too must have been ushered away as a terrorist in wait, slumped over aisles of fear.

Bin Laden "may have lived in Pakistan for over 7 years"
Seventh heaven and its virgin escape was thwarted by my assassin’s grip; finger firm, eye on death, wits delayed, my vow with the living’s undying death, a grand wedding befitting a mortal king…

Mississippi River reaching record levels
Higher! O! Higher still! Up, up and away! Dampen my Love, but do not wash it out or measure its depth, for I am afraid these, my words, might miss their mark. Come muse! Flow tenderly over my worship, not as a foul curse, but a curving stream with my heart and death between.

Military families have paid in hunt for bin Laden
The price was steep for a…

I Am Flawed

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(Pillars of Creation via Starts With a Bang)
I am flawed, like he, like she, like we, an ancient plan, a map meant for me. My walk, my embrace of creation, of Love, has led me here, to me, to I, to self. O might I see! Might I sense the moment my curtain begins to drop upon this; my final act? Only my actions can conclude this tragicomedy that’s raging center stage.

Then what should I do? How should I begin? Will it arrive in me like an old and familiar song that swims in the spirit of all living things or might it come as a flood that tears down walls? The how, when, where, what, why and who truly matters least to my affections, to creation. I must embrace the darkness as well as the light and weave them into my waiting Love.

Truth, to me, can only be found when I accept my fellow travelers and their particular faith. Without individual belief I'd cease to be, no longer rising with joy as I move among my kith and kin. Let my embrace be free of any insecurity or greed. Instead, p…

The Collective Love...

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Goodness is permeating across the globe. Love as a collective consciousness is in full bloom. It's up to me what I permeate, what I put out, what I give. If my belief permeates noise and suffering and fear and anguish, then I will surely reap what I alone have sewn.

Today it is evident, if I choose to see, and I have, that hard on the heels of all unrest is an illuminating resurgence of pure Love. If I’ll embrace this mystifying affection, accept it as a personal truth and begin my walk with Love, without prejudice, without judgment, I’ll begin to see this; my newfound purpose, my freshly risen consciousness, an innate and inextinguishable Love resonating and returning tenfold carrying the familiar blooms of goodness.

Love blossoms no less than a carefully tended houseplant or a child wrapped in a mother and father’s embrace. Love is a natural growth, stunted only by disbelief, by arrogance, by following without truly joining its affection. The inheritors of Heaven must love... w…

As I Believe...

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I’m being called to write this. It is not mine to keep. I would prove a coward and a hypocrite if I held it only for me.

The veil has been lifted and now I see. Noise, that I alone placed upon my cherished mask, proved too heavy to lift in my blindness. This plane of existence freely breathes with Love and Life and I can realize it if I but recognize my purpose. My motive should be love, the love of all singular belief and the love for all brothers and sisters, for kinship. I will love all and I will be a thoughtful steward, that eternal life might persist with me at hand. I cherish my individual thought, as it should be, so the collective spirit might thrive in my absence and, in turn, assure the communal spirit’s eternity.

I’m being called to write this. It is not mine to keep, it belongs to me, but is not of me, it is mine, but it is also the mountains, the trees, the animals and the spirits. It is mine to shape, mine to hold, to share, but not mine to demand. We’ve each our own f…

I Am Primate

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Chimpanzees are self-aware and can anticipate the impact of their actions on the environment around them, an ability once thought to be uniquely human, according to a study released Wednesday.

The findings, reported in the Proceedings of the Royal Society B, challenge assumptions about the boundary between human and non-human, and shed light on the evolutionary origins of consciousness, the researchers said.

Earlier research had demonstrated the capacity of several species of primates, as well as dolphins, to recognize themselves in a mirror, suggesting a fairly sophisticated sense of self. (More at Discovery News...)

I am primate!
My footprint shrinks as my mind expands without the consent of my opposing thumbs. A most welcome relent.

I am primate!
My love for you and you and you and they and we and the multitude of spirit dancing under Love’s ovation comes with an unspoken certainty.

I am primate!
A strobe light of perception, the sun’s on hold with my affection calling for Love’s fer…

No, My Child. No.

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After hearing the news of Usama bin Laden's death a child asksDoes this mean the wars are over? 


No, my child. No.

War has not been murdered, only agitated next to its grief. War needs its clatter of heaping death; a permanence feeding off the fresh fears held dear by a quivering flock.

War dresses as if it’s a great lover; a Don Juan looking for its next victim, wishing to remain the world’s top assassin, purged only as Love hauls it away. War, my dear child, aimlessly hordes flesh and bone; a marriage in disarray, bodies strewn about as if the sacred ground were an over-sized and filth-ridden couch, destruction, its violent spouse.


© 2011 by mark prime

Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat!

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Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat! Bring around the desiccated love-blooms, sentiments of a shadowy reverence, carting in more darkness than illumination…

Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat! Usher in the loud wounds and thoughts, exhale narrow prayers within the sky, like war-games strafing the surface of the sun…

Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat! Draw out the defamed blood from the veins of steel and warfare, allow it to inhale no more, to finish its ache and ashen rhyme…

Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat! Summon the dogs of war from their musty grotto, prop their rigid hands up to surrender, in recognition of kinship to one another…

Enough! Cease thy celebration of defeat! Down, long before the count, one, two- Time’s up! Stumble now for meaning, for reason, for truth to wrap me safely away before collapse…


© 2011 by mark prime

Thunder Rumble Boom Boom

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Al Qaeda's elusive leader Usama bin Laden is dead, BBC reports....

Tick tock, “USA”! Thunder rumble, boom boom!

As I sauntered amid the ruins of war, one eye on my back, the other under the bed, my child cried its colors, Nevermore!”. Horror sent legions of the angry up into the sky, then sandward fell the fear-tipped beams of dread upon a whole host of hands wearing peace like a ring.

From a shadowy crag and through the head, the deed’s been done, a casualty of the countless rings out! The bogeyman sleeps! Death reigns supreme! Noise trumped sound, hatred more than Love, battle before breath, madness, reason, deceit smothered truth. Bitter revenge plummeted sandward, another death among the half-living... O breathe creation’s mist into these, my tainted lungs, cloaks of complicity settling a bar tab made of flesh…


© 2011 by mark prime

Usama bin Laden

Buried Beneath (Head-Lines May 1st, 2011)

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(Eternal Spirit by  Ashok Inder Kumar)
The late Pope, John Paul II beatified in Vatican ceremony Buried beneath my observance lies a most improbable spirit, tightly masked with goodness, seeds sown in the eager ground, yet drained of a verdict.

The raw soil expects my naked descent, true kinship above all else and free of the unyielding crypt, that I might befall eternal life.

South mourns victims of deadly tornadoes
Growl and rumble! Carry away the shells to join this; the song of life; melodic sprouts to water and feed, nourish with Love over belief…

Libya says Gaddafi survives air strikes, but son killed
Let me howl and roar above the falling metal, scream and cry over such mortal loathing that infinite voices might join with me, wed with my brothers and sisters, and unite in reason the cause of one…

Super-Civilization Might Live Off Black Holes
As a child, I imagined myself a Superman with cape and glove, an alien saving man from himself, me from me, from man’s want to split, divide an…