Showing posts from May 29, 2011

The Parade Under the Ice

(Under the Ice, Antarctic Land Comes into Focus)
Under the ice, the arctic garden floats with abandon. I’ve found it there, pierced its sway with my beams that walk on water without so much as wonder.

Is there something that I'm trying to know with a mind that remains a step behind, fluttering with discovery, heedless to counsel?

The Arctic Tern with its summer girth, the Ice Worm shirking the sun, and Little Blue fairy wings hunched in a flightless parade, know that Love's in trouble as the ambitious omen weeps its red beams through the dwindling ice, probing for a solitary minute more of salvation.

Is there something they're trying to say to me with their toddling passage?

Am I alive enough to sense the reckoning?

The beams tell me no.

My love blanches at its reckless path. My greed salutes the sky with a single digit, a predatory wave growing warmer, growing under itself, sending in a brigade of warm water to blot the day.

Might the beams penetrate the thickness of my…

Howling Love

(Eternal Love)
What am I to do with knowledge which cannot be known?

And since it is unknowable, what, then, am I to remember? Am I to memorize the totality of that which is indefinite? Is imprecision even possible to imagine? To lead from the flesh or flow from the spirit?


It is a choice I make. It is a howling life that I alone conjure. It is a cry of existence I mold as my own. It is a belief that’s mine to accept, a paradise to open my eyes to.

My being is separate from who I imagine I am. Faith is rooted in the unknown, telling me that I cannot know anything.

Thought is meant to instruct. It is not a foundation of what is, it is a foundation of what can be, and what I imagine cannot be truth. Faith is the only knowable thing, aside from the charity that swims near the ribs and waits for the feet to begin their dance.

My mission stems the tide if I allow it. My mission comes without a script. It comes with a pulse that needs attention, embraced like a child in danger.

Without …

Museum eartH

(Neal Potter Design)
The eartH, the wind, the water, the tree, the sky and mountain, speak the only truth I know...

The eartH is my living room, the wind is my ceiling fan, the water is salvation, the tree, a borrowed lung, the sky, a museum of art, the mountain, a fortress.

I am most fortunate to not have been expelled from life’s dwelling. Just how much more time should I allow to pass before the obvious begins to shape my spine into sandstone, my love into ragged canvases painted with the things I no longer breathe?

The eartH, the wind, the water, the tree, the sky and mountain speak the only truth I know…

© 2011 by mark prime

Obedient Mayflies

(Mayfly by Bob)
Every child upon the earth feels with their spirit, mothers tell them to stay by their side, there’s less panic in proximity.

They’ll learn that they cannot remain when the wind calls out to them, lifting their feet in freedom, fluttering their briefness like mayflies.

They love, yet do not understand that Love is a lifelong journey that expands only after all of their suspicions sleep.

Their small hands hold my sleeves as I weep for my own youth’s span that suffocated from a lifeless tongue.

A thousand gallons of flesh and blood still pours over the soil as testimony, as marker for my loveless obedience.

The half-love I taught only hobbled, it didn't dance or soar with charity until, from back to front, it was unwritten.

I cannot bring them around with war, with anything that teaches separation. What on earth made me think I could?

The scenes of battle, real or imagined, steep my familiar sleeves in blood and mask innocence with casualty.

How long did I think it c…

Project Footprint

Project Icarus: The Gas Mines of Uranus Guest contributor (Discovery News) Adam Crowl looks at the fuel required for an interstellar trip and finds a gas giant with huge mining potential.

...However, there is a surprising amount of helium-3 in the gas giant planets of the outer solar system, and in the original 1978 "Project Daedalus" report Bob Parkinson suggested mining it via floating robotic factories in the atmosphere of Jupiter. Since then a different planet has moved to the forefront of gas-mining plans because it lacks Jupiter's intense gravity, Saturn's gigantic rings of orbital debris and is closer than distant Neptune.

Man’s footprint stretches deep into the forests, into the water’s depths, into the mountains, into the ground and now into outer space! Haven't my hands bled the eartH sufficiently that I need mine elsewhere for the spark? Hasn’t my rage scratched its final surface with the pale use of my wits and paws? The forests and oceans and mountain…

Prayers in Motion

My voice can serve a grander purpose! Love. Feed the hungry, clothe the exposed, give dwelling to the homeless, help the sick and dying and commune with the living spirit(s) or my voice can merely be self-seeking and fall away as if the words never pursed my lips.

Prayers, to me, aren’t merely verbalized, they're acted upon by my own works of compassion, and, if they are not acted upon, they cannot soar and are nothing more than vacant words. If I give my voice to the multitude of the deprived and downtrodden, there’s more Love in it. Give my voice to action, don’t allow it to be self-interested or have anything to be gained from it other than the call of my selfless duty, my obligation to help my fellow brothers and sisters. Do this and goodness will surely follow. It will follow that which is given, given without regard to what any group or particular ego might imagine that it knows.

I cannot know. I can only believe.

It’s simple really, I'll pray while I'm in motion be…

Ode to the 300

(300 Bikers Foil Westboro Baptist)
Rev the engines! Curse and scream! The world needn't any more hate, none that wraps arms around death, slips the nuthouse into heaven, then bleeds itself into the church of man.

It’s evident in the orange night sky, visible in the night’s chandeliers, swaying from what they’ve seen, from what they now witness. Stars aren't blind, save for their past and future sufferings. They see troubles on eartH for it is Heaven. A prayer? A curse? Or could it be word; reflection, nightmares and dreams, pushing forth their breathless story of fire, brimming with the dank cloth of certainty, spitting out heirlooms of teeth and bone as dust?

Knowledge is blind. It’s unaware of its own girth as it packs up supplies for the next fresh hunt. The pursuit of Love, for the creator of all things, and the search for that which my flesh can never know. Let love be my God! Allow my eyes to see what’s before them. Bring my senses around to remembering where I live, to …

Through My Hands

(Moon Night Sky from Layout
If I still have my Love I’ll not have wasted my belief after wars have broken through the stars like thieves. I’ll not have wasted my belief on words, I’ll have found love through my willing hands.

That’s what I started by propping up my storm in the midst of Love which gives without asking for anything in return, that which delivers my thoughts and dreams without restraint, my pleas without want, without instruction, without the harness of murder, rape and god-fouled war.

Through my hands, through my heart, through Love, I must still believe enough to wrestle deceit to its knees and embrace the Spirit of Love that’s within arms reach.

Oh! Reach out! They are there! Reach out! Let them nestle their imperceptible wings into your spleen, cuddle up inside of the fearful belly and dream.

© 2011 by mark prime

A Prayer for the Potent

(Conscious Life News)

(Andrew Forrest’s Art)
~Letter from Senator Boozman~

Dear Mr. Prime,
Thank you for contacting me regarding your thoughts on mercury emissions. It is good to hear from you.

As you know, Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) proposed a rule relating to emission standards at cement manufacturing plants. Specifically, EPA's rule pertains to the amount of mercury plants can release during manufacturing. While this proposal has proven to be quite contentious due to the devastating effects it would have on American jobs, I appreciate your view that the benefits outweigh the costs. My concern is that when American industries are closed due to excessive regulations, those jobs are replaced by foreign corporations that often do more environmental damage than their American competitors. China is already the largest producer of mercury emissions, and atmospheric transportation carries much of this pollution to the United States. As a member of the Senate Committee on Environ…