Showing posts from October 9, 2011

Let's Dance

(Artwork by Abel Tomlinson)
When the embers began to glow I joined in, motionless, I danced with another,
yet it was the spirit's collective dreams that brought me to the one.

I didn’t choose the path that carried me here today,
I couldn’t, I had no idea I’d show up to this ballet.

I just moved with the current of one, the spirit’s affections, their hope,
and with diverse belief, the where, of where I was destined, was not in my control.

I didn't try to steer the ship, there was no okay from me to go,
the opposite of being rudderless, because it’s precisely how this beautiful world flows.

Love, won’t you please take my hand, a peaceful hand which needn't extend from me alone?
My hands and arms are clasped, ready to dance this quest that is shaped from hope?

Yes! Hope is alive and well on these streets today! Oh! Dance dear spirit! Dance!
This moment must go on forever. I might stumble, but I shouldn’t fail this, my chance!

Freedom’s calling out to me within the chi…

The Rumble Heard in the Streets

There’s a rumble in the streets that sounds like distant thunder. Do not fear it, for it is a natural sound, not my kind’s fouled noise. It is Love, the triumph over self,  Love’s art bringing me back to my beginning. It is not a tale of woe and murder, it is a drama that’s been waiting in the wings for Love’s triumphant cue to summon me forth! It’s the thunder of Love rolling joyously across the globe.

I’ve listened to fear long enough. I’m tired of my weeping, exhausted of pulling out my hair and gnashing my teeth, exhausted of my dreams being written as tall tales instead of one great towering truth. I’ve begun to sense the reckoning within myself, the longing to remove the foul noise I’ve planted within which has pierced Love and turned me in on myself.

I’ll need steady hands and head to remove the clamor that’s lodged deep inside, that’s flouting my reason, that’s bringing me to fear another, causing me to destroy goodness, leaving me afraid of Love. I am one! I am not separate…

Amelia, From Cherub to Angel...

I wept at her grace, smiled upon her face and have been humbled in my place.

The woman, Amelia, was once a child, a cherub who blossomed into an angel.

Her story is one that should be known to all who walk the path toward their belief, she’ll guide the ego away from self and reveal to you what truly matters. For me it is not the pliant flesh that reaches out with loving arms, it is the dance of the spirit. It is the love contained within me that moves the soul to sing, to dance and laugh inside the cathedral of man. I dance with her, dance with her spirit and I'm dancing with the love of all of the spirits that she has herself danced with. Dance! Laugh! Love, and I’ll find I’ve been blessed by creation.

Her strength is awe inspiring and without love she’d have left me to myself long ago. But I have begun to show her that my dreams are ready for her Love, ready for her truth to emerge within my being, to take my hands and lead me away from the battle within and usher in a loving …

Eyes Without Dreams

(Picture From Evil On Two Legs)
All I see are desperate faces, eyes without dreams, minds without compassion and hands without Love, scraping their filth over creation. My own eyes are wet from this misuse. No consideration and without reflection, I've bowed my head, not in prayer, but with such monstrous shame.

I see this, my madness, as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven I know. I find it hard to stomach the cruelty being raked across creation with my own likeness being reflected. Wash it away! It’s too monstrous! Wash it all away from the thankless path!

The children are dreading the monster that comes from under their beds that have mommy and daddy’s terrified within their thankless faces. They sense hopeless postures when they look into the empty eyes come screaming, dead hands stroking their worried brows, greedy lips kissing their regret.

I see this madness as most tragic, the Love on which my flesh is riding is the only Heaven I know. I w…

Red Plain (Columbus Day)

(Painting by Newell Convers Wyeth from Encore Editions)
There were splendors. The ocean navigated them nearer the plump breast of a new world. Our indigenous, greeting the sailor with smiles and immense warmness.

Peace, in this meeting of fleshes, soiled itself with chains of slavery and riches beyond the queen’s dreams. The land, and its worship, was sliced open like buffalo on a red plain.

Sky, the sky, the sky doesn’t dance anymore, not with spirit or truth. Of our scourge we eulogize the ghosts of death, of massacre, beyond the new machinery, our lives.

The Indian, the child, the meadow, the slaughter of stillness. Can’t take it back now! Can’t! It’s done! Musket, arrow, flesh, the birth of a country, drum...

© 2011 by mark prime

I Tell Myself

Am I not capable of greatness if I’ll but still my tongue and use my limbs and spirits to vanquish the dreadful sword?

I tell myself to fear the unfamiliar faces that are found in my reflection.
I tell myself I’ve Love to spare while my fists come booming.

Do I really need another enemy when I’ve more adversaries than champions?

I tell myself I'm compassionate even as the unkindness goes on raging.
I tell myself I'm beautiful even as my ugliness disfigures the heart.

Can’t I imagine myself vanquished without having to dream up hideous foes draped in fear-stained flags?

I tell myself I'm most loving even as hatred’s dagger punctures my scowling lips.
I tell myself I'm peaceful even as war slathers blood across the land.

Aren't I sufficient enough with the tools of death to bring the blade across Love's neck with minimal suffering?

I must begin to tell myself I'm safe even as my own looming death’s unknown.
I must begin to tell myself that I’ve had eno…