Showing posts from May 8, 2011

Three, Two, One...(Head-Lines for Saturday May 14, 2011)

(Burt Goldman)
Countdown to Shuttle Launch -- and Layoffs – Underway
Three- My grinning desire to reach the heavens highlights my hunger to explore, my desirous aspiration to possess what I see, own what is not mine to own…

Two- Wonder needs remain in my greenness.

One- (Houston, we have layoff!)

Former Pop-Star Sworn in as Haiti’s New President
Remember, my needs come last, captain Martelly, first I must lift the spirit of Haiti to its original tallness! Permit her peoples to conquer their pale quaking, shine my quivering song upon them, then myself.

US Charges Six with Aiding Pakistani Taliban
Bring down the gavel upon me if I blast Love with the tools of battle! The hellhounds feast upon love, gorge upon the tender flesh of peace.

Indict me, then raise a new flag, a fresh banner, ‘Love Before Bombs’. Make no motto of love that worships war…

Obama Seeks More Drilling in Alaska and Gulf of Mexico
Seek to drain the earth of oil, that her machine may rust of use, crack of my potent thirst…

Flame of the Flame

The will is spirit and belief, of which I’ve free rein, therefore, life must be imperfect inside of a perfectly flawed creation, the stone-silent flame.

Paradise is my long road and one I chose in order that I could believe. If the path along the way to my seeking was littered with flesh and bone, piled of horrible things instead of Love’s recollection, I would not have succumbed to creation’s Love. I might imagine a heaven and find myself in fear of its quickening wrath… Isn’t it true that I must believe in something before allowing myself to believe in anything?

I had lost my way in this; the immortal coil. I had forgotten Love and Peace because I had no belief. And without belief, I could not reckon with my own kinship, from the innate and the cognate to the primate and the incarnate. I must reconcile the suffering within me and make amends to those I've hurt and make amends of that which is not mine, outside of self and the machinations of me.

In order for my love to subsist,…

My Love's Creation

(Wings Over Earth)
I have my own personal weather, the space between the clouds. Might my storm give back greedily as not to take that which isn't mine? The dead ancestors; the spirit of my kind, can no more their collective howling! I must return to my quiet seeking; my footprint small, my Love enormous! My finality has surged ahead of my living, holding my hand over the mouth of creation, the breath of spirit, more like death, less than Love.

This is not new. This is not old. It is now! An inhalation beyond knowing, unknowable and laughing within the ventilator of my worship, inhaling fury with my grave and loveless cuff. My rage has settled its dust upon my spirit. Rage, which is nothing more, and nothing less, than the immense fear of that which I cannot know, of that which is not mine to bend or repeat. O! Let it come weeping with my disgrace. Bring my beast to its knees! Settle my redness with belief in Love upon the tongue of my seeking. Invoke what needs be spoken, desirou…

In My Bones

What the mind of man can conceive and believe, the mind of man can achieve.
__Napoleon Hill

Belief suffers at my own hand. It grips the trigger of my demise with the brace of the jackal’s maw that stalks Love’s affection. My mind, the one of my kind, with its wide storm puncturing the veins of an arid blood, cannot imagine a truth that bows to Love or that dreams of joy laughing with the wind.

My spirit yearns of liberty from this empty toiling, longs for escape from all of self isolation. My spirit prays that I merrily dance with the whole so that I may recall the soul's unspoken kinship. Pride, greed, hatred, cruelty, envy and deceit are the skilled assassins with their crosses aimed at Love and it is only belief that can conquer the will. The rigid ego's howling is nothing more than the talons of selfish doctrines enslaving the whole of spirit.

I can summon the belated sorrow from my bones and struggle to weep for the spirit’s arid demise as the spirit …

Be in Belief

It is the belief in a power larger than myself and other than myself which allows me to venture into the unknown and even the unknowable. -Maya Angelou

Again, if I’m sightless to the inherent disbelief found in the unknowable conclusion of truth, then what I imagine I know, without further seeking, can neither be love nor creation.

What of that? Might reason acknowledge it as truth? Is it exactness, as far as any truth might be known? And is it mine to share with the world, mine to give away without the barbs of intolerance or the burden of pride to those seeking?

It is yours...

Perhaps I can if I’ll but empty it of any words or ideas that act as chains upon the collective spirit, if I’ll avoid any influence that pins down my thoughts or attempts to choke out Love with the ego’s dim-grown intolerance. The deafness found stirring inside of the noise-making, screeching it’s putrid grimness lined in shrill deceit, is simply a numbness to the natural rhythms of sound.

If I could but just b…

Getting to Know Myself... Be in Belief (1)

When the sky had felled its rainbow my mind’s eye could then see, what a moment before, it could not…

The beams of light that danced of this, drained the ego and revealed my truth; the spirit and life of creation; Love…

As this thought reared in turn another, I pushed against it, that it might wait, allow me time to catch my breath…

“Do not imagine an outcome! Act! Your thoughts are strangling Love! Belief is all you’ll ever know.”

But my thoughts are my belief…

“Your thoughts are merely noise, it’s your belief that uncovers Love! If it were only your thoughts that made belief, you and you alone would be Love.”

But we’re all a part of Love...

"Yes, but not without the whole, for Love cannot be divided as land. Creation cannot be at odds with itself, it breathes as one, all, not some or none, but every part, all things, pure Love."

I pray every day!

“Wonderful! But when you pray in honesty to creation, to Love, without want or control (which you’ve none), then…

Mother's of Creation...

Most loving, I would say of you,
And goodness and divine spirit,
Mother, friend and healer,
An inner peace in full bloom!

I traced my steps and fell into you

Like a cavern fashioned of joy.
Old medicine held by your heart
Vibrated blooms from every side,
Each intended to be given away,

Yet returned with the breath of Love.
Oh, Mama, I’ve loved you for eternity
Undulating delight at your creation…

© 2011 by mark prime