Showing posts from November 6, 2011

The Twelfth of November

On the twelfth day of November, the people heard the call,
Love came swift upon the wind, wagging with the fall.

An equine of air galloped out and made them smile and dance.
Bow at her majesty, at your bravery, your “this time’s” last chance.

The day rose with a quiet, a great hush upon the ground,
whispering Love, the air and eagles searching for a sound.

Morning called down its gleam with brushstrokes before unseen,
the sun stood fearless, the sky as cushion, Love and rage between.

Brighten now flower, brighten full and bloomed. Brighten water,
flow your sweet nectar and paint a scene, humanity, not slaughter.

Bring your joy, tote your love, and haul in your fullness of affection,
your glee, your laughter, and your peace, to move in all directions.

Open your singular mind and alert your most ready heart,
Rise up, stand up, rock the walls to freedom’s new start!

Rise up, sit up, shake the walls to freedom’s new start!
Rise up, get up, sway the walls to freedom’s new start!


Before You Speak...

Try as we might; wrists bent in supplication, minds bent on destruction, we can’t seem to stop trying to get a glimpse of Love…

Love cannot be seen in a glancing blow. It is The Mother’s fury to have, she is the mother that will summon forth Love’s return…

Yes. Call out to them in your sleep, they are already in bliss, from your soul to their soul and into heaven they are…

Where is this man who says he knows?

But I don’t know, says the man…

Heaven is waiting for our, “we’re ready”, now that we’ve seen her majesty…

How much more time need pass before you speak? Stop, before you turn the blade in on self and lay waste to all the spirit that is you.

Cease to be?

Spirits, souls, ghosts and ghouls, two sides of the same Love, it is your fear that must be sent quivering away like a scolded urchin. It is your love that remains, not your agony.

© 2011 by mark prime

I Will Follow

I will follow my heart, my Love, my humanity, my goodness, my intentions, my instincts…

My heart must surely die, that my Love might live forever.

My humanity will live on. My goodness will subsist. My intentions and instincts will come again and I will follow the gladness of Love, of Creation and the goodness of Children.

© 2011 by mark prime

Look Beneath Your Feet

Look beneath your feet.

Look beneath your feet, she waits.

Look beneath your feet, before it’s too late!

Look beneath your feet, see her leaning?

Gaze on her beauty! Smile at her smiling green and blue and rainbow of hues never imagined in our monstrous belief. She needs me. She desires me, if I’ll but believe in Love.

When the wars began, the people lost their minds, zombies clanking along a pathway of thorns; screaming, gnashing teeth, hair and suffering; not eternal, it just seemed forever… Hush now, Love. I’m here. I will never forsake you.

Be Love and believe in me.

If I am called I may have to run more than I walk, cry more than I talk. ...Sweet cello beneath my belief, what sorrow have you not seen, you, with your strings humming away at my mind, at my consciousness?

I must wake up! I’ve not much time! Move my feet, raise my voice!

I will. I am.

© 2011 by mark prime

Yes, Spoke the Thunder

Bow to Love before wrath wears your shoes. Her rain cleanses the sacred ground. Her wind anoints lost souls. Her green cures our dis-ease with who we are?

Might we be her thunder and quake?

Is there a reason you asked an already answered question?

© 2011 by mark prime

Come Along, Don't Go

The heart breaks when it’s not enough.

She moves to our music, swims to our song, sweats for our return, she is all that is Creation. I’m in love and love and Love and Love won’t keep man’s grenades from destroying all he’s lived for.

The heart breaks when it’s not enough.

Oh! It lights our way! See her majesty rise in the day and not set without a sun, she raises her anguished face to the heaven we embraced, to me, to you, to spirit, to her, to Love.

The heart breaks when it’s not enough, and breaks again when belief becomes fear instead of peace. Breaks again from human destruction, counting down from four to one, two jumps in and rides the sun…

© 2011 by mark prime

Unfortunate Humankind

Sound of muffled whimpers came from the rubble… Sight of the astonished wept at what they saw in the diminishing air…

Touch of another’s hand can heal the bile. Begin with the spirit, for when the spirit laughs with love, the spirit comes alive!

Touch the hand of another brother or sister with only love, touch another’s spirit, touch another’s soul and you’ll find yourself in heaven with all those you’ve touched before. Not strangers, friends.

We want Love and we’ll never have it the way we treat her. Why would she relinquish the spirit that is hers to hold? She only wants us to stop the noise…

Shut the door on humankind’s foul inventions as wrecking ball before they sink their fangs in any deeper! Shut the door on unfortunate humankind!

There’s little time to waste- Love, Love, Love, rejoice and never forget who you are again…

© 2011 by mark prime


This is not Armageddon.

This is Heaven returning to our consciousness…

Creation, Love. She, with her gravity, is like a mother’s arms around a wayward child, and, if she must, she’ll sling her wrath when they become murderers.

Her wake-up call, long overdue, fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them, silence. Fell upon them…

She pleads we reconsider. She prays we unlock the gateway from ourselves back to Love.

Sight is to behold like behold is to see.

© 2011 by mark prime

The Wind's Amazement

Where we are is all we can know, all we should know and all we need know. Who we are comes along with what we are to where we are. We must remember, recall our kinship before the act concludes. Our dreams are the gauge to our knowing and our waking dreams deliver their sweet reverie to this reception with joy. And to our amazement truth has always been waiting beneath our feet for us to sense her Love, for us to awaken to our great fortune.

Awake! It is time to come together as one and occupy the eartH, Home and Heaven, with heart-signs that read Love, hands that hold her dear like we hold our precious children, arms that reach out like machines of affection and legs in urgent motion toward her care.

Where did we imagine we were? Where do we imagine we are?

Who did we imagine ourselves to be? Who do we imagine ourselves to be?

What did we imagine we were here for, thievery, rape and war? What do we imagine we are here for?

Oh! The gravest fault lies in our lack of loving imagination…

What Was That You Said?

What Was That You Said?

How can I say no to her? She’s been waiting so long for someone to speak, she’s been chained and bound, she’ been red and found, but not by man, she is his birthplace, he cannot escape! She’s Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, Love.

We are not what we were only a moment ago. We’re aloft, afloat toward our fear and not our memory. From our fear and not our memory come our sins. Fear cannot be memorized or drained through the fibers of man’s flesh. Beneath the sadness she’s been writhing. She’s been turning corners hoping the light stays green.

Oh, my Love. I am here. Don’t cry.

Your children are dying.

Music skipped from the quake, what was that you said?

Your children are dying.

I thought that’s what you said.

Yet you’d rather not cry? You’d rather make light and have been for nothing? There are no winners when everyone’s running for their lives.

The game’s rigged.

Heaven, where we stand, our feet, without direction, wander with the wind.

How could Love ev…

...Beneath My Feet

I found Love beneath my feet.

I dreamed I stood upon her neck and she was wheezing from my footprint, my thanklessness, my pride swollen, my desire to own her.

I found Love beneath my feet.

She asks that we end our parade of her, our pageant that mocks her grandeur, her love, her authority- The shocks went down my neck, they sent their waves into my belief. It floated freely for what seemed like days, it sent me earthward and greeted me with kisses, then slammed me down! She unpainted my portrait and woke me up to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. Love chants her will in the wind, her desire washing up on the shores, her love serenading us with Her Majesty.

I found Love beneath my feet.

Go, tell your sons and daughters to look beneath them, then bow.

© 2011 by mark prime


I wouldn’t stop even if I could. I stop now and there’ll be hell to pay.

She started whispering to me her scream as she hoped the answer would be seen. Who am I? Where did I go? Am I really in heaven disguised as hell? It is sweetest when everyone comes to the dance.


Love is not to be divided as in shares, it is to run headlong into each and everything upon her. She is heavenly, mother, grandmother and great grandmother.


And so to be them in my song, the whole of life undulates with all things, the clip of a rapid-fire fiddle to the cello’s measured breathing, sorrow to sudden delight of lungs unaccustomed to such pleasures.

Oh, violin! Won’t you weep more for joy? Weep more for desires, greed, and laughter, leaving you out in the cold to laugh last?


Still a child inside to be forgiven, so play your chords to the ferryman, cry your eyes in her embrace evermore, forgive.

Still, a child, quick, begin your tap, tap, tap, tapping and forget not to weep and weep and weep to fill…

Return to Knowledge

She needs me to return to knowledge, return to a loving word, a humanless heaven, a paradise bending with the rose.

All across the globe, flowers are in bloom, watch them march, watch them come with love, arms out, so brothers and sisters can fall into and move with the spirit within them.

© 2011 by mark prime

The Day Before...

The day before…Boomed the silence…The day before…Boomed the silence...

Can anything be said that has not been before, when we imagined our souls came into being? Club the beast, then come to, and then drink some water, and you may be able to recall your journey. Your gangling limbs can’t hold such knowledge, won’t sustain such damage, can’t herself be killed, she goes and breaks an axis and disintegrates to hell, we had better be ready for Love to come calling. “Who do you think you know? Love? No. If your god knew Love, he’d look down upon her beauty and see, finally see, after too many damned years, too damned many!"

I was supposed to be this child. Who else could I have been, but this child? My scars are not me. My past is not me. My belief, my truth, my Love, all wrapped up tight and shipped via voice, special delivery, you’ve been served!

Don’t imagine you need a lift, because I’m going that way? Hop in! Where you headed?

The old man winked at the child to say I love you. …