Showing posts from November 27, 2011

The Spirit of Love

I am not ready to relinquish this kingdom. I am ill-equipped to handle such blood. I am pulling for Love, that she might do her eternal duty, spirit evermore in the garden.

Heaven, by any other name, disregards the rareness of creation, it’s Love.

In this beginning there is Love. Now Love is not formless, empty or dark. The spirit of Love is the eartH. The Love of spirit is humankind’s equal duty.

© 2011 by mark prime

They’re Words

I know what makes you write.

They’re not my words. They’re of you.

Words are part of who we’ve become.

Your spirit sees it quite another way…




Shouldn’t we do something before the final sunrise of man?

Before fear replaced survival?


© 2011 by mark prime

The Willow Tree is a Storyteller

The willow tree’s a storyteller- words brushed the ground. The wind, her jealousy as temptress, bristled in my veins as the cold lowered her ire.

It is time to think on death. It is time to reach inside. It is time to make my voice known. The wind, her jealousy as temptress. The willow tree’s the storyteller- hope fell happily across her lap.

The monstrousness is that of man garnering knowledge, discovering who he’s always been is far harder than he could ever have imagined.

© 2011 by mark prime

Dear Daughters

I don’t know how I came crashing out of the heaven I’d imagined, into the heaven I should have always known? Dear daughters, you’ve been waiting for some dim light to come flickering from behind my glimmer.

I am coming around to who I am by getting to know you. My Love of you resembles our climb- looks as if a snow might come and anoint the sweltering soil.

Might an army have been being assembled long before I was even a thought, a me, an I? Enough of me, what of Love? Stop!

Love came back to me, assembled into a single thought, before me, you, and I?

Children, I will love you evermore.

What have I not yet recognized of myself in you that is something other than Love?

Let us begin…

© 2011 by mark prime

Between Truth and My Thoughts

You awoke too early, the dance hadn't begun.

I begged to differ. The twisted tale came roaring like a river set loose its tether, like a rock ballad lifted high in its belief. The song plays now, if I choose to hear it.

Listen... Listen... Listen! Listen... Listen… Listen! Listen. Listen. Listen!

Love’s what brought me to belief. What’s between the thought and the ear is too great a distance to ever rise. What’s between my reality and my thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? What’s between all reality and collective thought? What’s between your reality and your thought? I’m in heaven.

I look around me and what do I see? Love, family, laughter. The thing that must set us free from who we’ve become and allow us to remember who we were and her plea that we love.

Are you my daughter? The spirit of Love blows now southward, beyond the raging rush hours, outside of self, just being. What courage is found in denying it any longer, they are upon me with Love, I upon …

By the Shame in Man

We had to speak, we had to.

We had to love, we had to.

We had to laugh, we had to.

Exist without fear, we have to.

By the grace of Love we fly.

By the shame in Man we die.

Oh! Lift me aloft that I might gaze down at her wonder! Bring my feet to flying that they might stumble upon truth. Swim my heart through ocean current that I might then thrust it into my Love.

When did it begin to fail? What are we doing if we’re not worshipping simultaneously?

It is to what I know that I must bow. Bowing to my belief brings out that which is the least of me. The man I used to be.

I have to speak, I have to…

© 2011 by mark prime

Don't Be Prideful...

(Posted from the ONWA Occupied Zone, Town Center, Fayetteville, AR.)


“Who am I” was the question I let loose beneath her veil. “Who I am”, the answer that echoed back.

Hello… I am so glad you are here.

You are so beautiful...

“The next one” is the answer you seek.

Don’t be prideful in belief…

© 2011 by mark prime

World Love (Tuesday Nov. 29th, 2011 Head-Lines)

iPhone Combusts Mid-flight
we seem to begin once again to see ourselves as we were meant to be. Love.

Occupy LA asking court to stop eviction
End your madness, Humans!
It is not Love you seek, it is self.
What is humankind’s intended purpose… as our minds bend Love into our monstrous machination?

Fort Smith Homeless Shelters See Rising Need
End your idleness bowing to corporeal idols, instead, bow to what you know, not what you can squander greedily from Love. Love is not to be parsed. Love is to let flow, beneath the wings of her swims more Love.

Oh! Love has our peace!

End your warring for that which you cannot possess. End your hostility. End your stupidity run amok…

American Airlines files for bankruptcy
The skies were empty of metal birds and hell’s machinery. The mountains could finally sleep without all of that noise. Silence, it seemed, fell upon the gleaming and beautiful eartH. The Grandmother was pleased that life could now breathe, and with it, Love.

Norway killer…

We Need a Peace Platform for All Voices

We need a peace platform for all voices.

A peaceful conversation on Love, in Love and with respect of all things throughout Love.

Let me begin with yesterday, cold wind snapped, took a walk in my mind to the center of Love and found her there. She was sad, eyes of wounds, tears of longing. I asked her if she could ever forgive me. Her maybe was not the answer, it was the truth, what I do with it is up to me. Banjo jump in and rock me hillbilly sideways. I need to come up for air! Been down there too long, time to refresh my memory, ask to be forgiven, breathe my love into her lungs and watch her expression rise beyond man’s sickness, illness that’s crept into Love and held her under like an unjust master. Her suffering is visible. Her eternity spills out onto the streets. I might deliver it to them in the form of an amazing story of Creation’s will and man’s choice. It started out like a scream, my search for answers to the things we need not know, it trembled the beams of man’s love…

Dream Your Dream

I’m here. I’ve not gone anywhere to speak of, but to dream of, to imagine I’m her champion because I spoke of Love. Her undying eternity of Love…

You’re late! Where did you think you were? Who did you imagine you were? Why would you supplant belief with something that’s absolutely knowable?

The air speaks to the wind to the tree to the leaf to me. Shall I run before it’s too late? Am I alive enough to see what’s happening before it is too late?

Dream your dreams, thread them through the eye of your belief.

© 2011 by mark prime