Showing posts from December 18, 2011

Oh Seek Another! The eartH and Love Have Had Enough of Our Blindness.

Oh seek you another victim! The eartH and Love have had enough of human blindness. They’ve held off long enough. No. There’s no need to hide. She is not angry. She is sad. Do not allow indifference to float tears and drown Love beneath the rising truth.

Why? Why make a game of Love?

There’s little need to weep, Love. Love sees the suffering at humankind's hand, fingers pulling triggers instead of offering Love. Love sees. Love hears. Love feels. Love knows.

Are you coming to bed? …Yes. Yes, my Love.

Oh seek another! The eartH and Love have had enough of human blindness. They've held off long enough! They've wept an eternity of Love! Enough! Let humankind, man and woman, construct a Love worthy of full Love. Clasp our hands in supplication, bent upon the breathing soil, beg forgiveness from whatever is believed and begin in earnest the eartH’s salvation.

Are you coming to bed? …Yes. Just one more minute of prayer, my Love.

© 2011 by mark prime

Now is Agony. Now is the agony of Our Making. Tomorrow Must be Peace.

And you Mother, Grandmother, Great Grandmother, I give back your Love. I return it that you might send it to another more in need. I breathe my Love into your gasping lungs, I give it all back, save enough to keep me from falling headlong into agony.

Now is agony. Now is the agony of our making. Tomorrow must be peace. Tomorrow must be Love. Mustn’t it? Are we not held accountable for our actions?

“None shall get to Heaven by deeds alone.” 

Poppy cock!

“The eartH is Love's and everything in it.”

Our actions speak so much louder than our sorry excuse for Love, for worship. We can’t hear our own gnashing teeth or feel our bleeding scalps, the agony between man and Love is too great.


© 2011 by mark prime

Why Couldn’t You Have Just Said So

Why couldn’t you have just said so, instead of sending spirit to dance their way through me. It had been too long between dances, I was exhausted? I’m standing here now with my numbness that swims with Bach rising kindly in my veins, that rumbles my name, I bow. My sorrow brims with fear, my fears brim with sorrow.

Love must be recognized for her dominion over us. Our joy must wed with our deeds. We, my brothers and sisters, are beholden to the eartH, in other words, to Love.

© 2011 by mark prime

Me, Along With My Brothers and Sisters, We’re All Guilty.

Allow her a bit more breath to enter her waters instead of murder/suicide and poisonous hunger! Greed through war and war through greed, we saunter around planting our mindless seeds for plunder. And though we laugh, we are not happy. None of us can imagine our home, our only home, as being hell…

If we take a closer look we’ll see that the tide’s begun to shift, there’s an awakening underway and it’s unstoppable.

It is Love and Love shall never die. Love cannot be vanquished by all of man’s sadness. It cannot be slain by our insidious power. She cannot be murdered, it is we that have murder rapping at our door, tapping out a metronome of death’s steady pace, death, death, death, death, death, the other side of life…


There’s something wrong with me…

I felt my old self rise up. Hadn’t seen him in a long time. He looked sad or maybe he was just disappointed in how things were going.

There’s something wrong with me…

Look at what I’ve helped commit? Attempted murder. The willful destruc…

From Birth to Awareness, From Awareness to Stewardship, From Servitude to Love

I kept forgetting, couldn’t hear you from there. I couldn’t make out your words, save one.

I remember you. I recall your dizzying pace and how you urgently pulled me into your maze, how you held me close when I was frightened and told me that everything’s going to be okay. I’m alive. I’ve come full circle in life’s rotation, from birth to awareness, from awareness to stewardship, from servitude to Love.

I remember you. I heard you calling to my newborn spirit to remember who I am and to hold you most dear, to look to you to remind me of who I am and what my mind should sow and what it should reap.


© 2011 by mark prime

Let Her Breathe Her Love Upon All of Life

There was one star in the midnight sky. It vaguely winked at me as if it were distracted by other things, chaos, wars, murder, greed. I think the heaven’s lookout, this singular star that kept watch through the foggy clouds, appeared to drift closer, a sentry pacing my night. The blessed sentry, the HeartH, Life, Love and Truth, Heaven and Home for all of our nights, seen or unseen.

It’s time, they said. It’s time to begin, time to set your beliefs aside and come together in commonality, together with Love! You must cleanse this world of manmade poisons and begin to care for Love's shores, her oceans, her forests and sacred lands before her patience snaps in two and she quivers her verse through rock and clay or delivers her message for a boulder to come calling. She’ll stomach the pain of this healing long before she’ll stomach the pain of man’s suicidal journey.


(Don’t leave out the charade.)

Oh Yes! Let’s play a charade! Let’s act as if I'm sightless to and unaware of…

Love's Threadbare Whisper

She looks thinner.
Limbs, hanging on by a threadbare whisper, a slight rustle and a loving grace, she soars.
Listen to her plea!
Heed her tongue crackling with sorrow!
She begs for us to see!

She does not long for us to fail- fail her, fail Love, fail creation, fail Grandmother, fail Grandfather, fail. Laughter’s etched with our names on her skin like a tattoo engraved by Love.
Wear it proudly.
Wear it lovingly.
Wear it.

She looks ill with man’s use.
She seems to be nearing her tolerance.
Oh! Let us prop open our eyes by ceasing the noise found in our machines!
The greatest invention ever imagined remains the Heart(H) of Love, his bride, an eternal eartH.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

We cannot forgo the truth.
The truth tarries not.
The truth does not hold her tongue, she speaks plainly-
rumble, quake, groan- she Loves without condition save that we-
boom, rattle, thump echo- Love, Love, Love, Love…

© 2011 by mark prime

Fear is the Death Knell to Love.

Fear is the death knell to Love. Fear runs through the blood like a madman with a machete! Machete? Did someone say machete? (Careful, now. Fear runs rampant on the playgrounds of war.)

We’ve nothing to fear but ourselves.

Crash the party, trumpet, with your tap tap tappety tap on the spine of Creation! Guitar, strum me some melancholy tune for my arrival, then bring me soaring! You too, piano! Jump in, tambourine! Hey, Fiddle! Resurrect my soul that I might dance! Soak my veins in Love, dear cello! Sling me inside the mouth of all things sacred, didgeridoo!

You got to be a witchdoctor to have such hands. You got to be Love to perform the miracles you do. Oh! Pray me out of this dream!

Drenched in sweat I see her before me, wings high above her shoulders, eyes the color of Creation, the heart of an angel, Love. She had again returned to me, she guided her heart to mine and we danced along the pathway.

There are no meadows here.

The ice will come again as a blanket for the Willow, th…

Heaven, The One of Our Choosing

The wisp of cloud, the rumble of the jet, the birds singing of Love, the quickening noise of interstate traffic, the wind pirouetting with the breeze, the sun, like a blanket to cover the world, the wars, the murder, the hunger, the rape, the torture, the needy, the downtrodden, the hope, the joy, the laughter of contentment. We can find never-ending Love that will accompany eternal life’s servitude in humbleness and always with glee, if we’ll never again imagine hell.

Are we not ready to laugh? Are we ready to live? If we’ll but Love, we will. We will eat of the fruit of our goodness, we will drink at the table that is the river, laugh with the belly of the wind and rejoice in the spirit that lives upon and in the soil. If we will but speak our prayers into motion that they might have chance of being answered, if we’ll but react to each and all with a thrumming goodness, if we’ll but keep our most ancient promise, if we’ll but open our eyes to truth, we will be in heaven… the one o…

Testament to the Night, the Willow Tree and the Clanging Bell

Oh! Dear Grandmother and Grandfather, what are we to do with Love's wisdom if we seek it not? What of the eternal Heart(H), we’ve a heart, we’ve a beat or two left if Love’ll grant it…

The bell tolls in the distance and the weeping willow comes to with the splash of Love's rain and the slap of the Love’s wind. She is all instruments. She is all. She and Love are in holy matrimony.

The heart is the most vital of organs, Love made all as an ode to life.

You’ll see them again. Life is eternal, yet ever changing, evolving if you will…

Humankind, individual entities, can no more know that their belief is truth than they can the instructions of Love. And we’ve wed ourselves to one belief, one storyline out of billions, soon we’ll find we’ve not much wind left for another.

And another emerges, the one we should never have forgotten…

© 2011 by mark prime

A Testament to the Rain and Sleeping Willow

It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. The deed falls squarely on my shoulders, it is mine to bear, mine to choose, mine to be, mine. The self is important my friends. It is who we are! A single entity of the whole!

Brothers and sisters, please understand that this is my belief. It isn’t science, it’s a journey. Who I am chose this journey knowing the possibilities, but what I shouldn‘t have ever imagined is that I would be fearfully timid. No longer. We’ve cleaved ourselves in half and do battle both our evil and our good.

But how can this be? Asked the man. We fight the evil that’s attacking our good! How dare you!

No! How dare you try and imagine what it is that we are here for and indoctrinate through fear? Shred every instance of evil from your books and leave goodness, use the Love, for that is all Love smiles on. Evil is not of Love. It is not Creation’s way. It is humankind that fears. It is humankind that imagines they are loving while creating their own death mechanism, Love. …

Look At Her, She Waits With Love For Me

Look at her… She waits with Love for me to return. She pleads with a whisper of air asking that I remember. That I remember who I am, remember what I am and above all remember where I am.

Oh dear, Grandmother! Won’t you serenade us with your Love? Won’t you whisper your sweet breath into our bleeding ears and deliver us from our thinking, from our wars and from our greed? Bring us out of this labyrinth of our own making. Witness our sorrow, witness our regret, witness our reaping of thy Love.

I beg you to stay! Please do not go! My Love for you is all I breathe, all I imagine, all I want to know…

Don’t you see? You are the Mother. You are the Grandmother. You are the Great Grandmother. You are my Love. You are Love. I am yours. It is perfection this circle, never-ending, evermore, eternal Love…

Look at her…

© 2011 by mark prime

Too Many Questions, Not Enough Truth

Did you give and receive all of your gifts made of plastic, wrapped in paper, drawn from oil, and taken with pride and greed?

Did you smile upon your neighbors all?

Did you pray to your manifestation to correct your woes or did you pray for Truth?

Did you pray to the sky or did you pray to your feet?

Did you wish that your feet might be the first to recognize where they walked?

Did you ask the right questions of your belief?

Is it loving throughout, is it peaceful?

Is there laughter throughout, is it joyful?

Is it something known, or is it belief?

Did you put words in the mouth of creation?

Did you imagine that maybe the creator's not to be known to us, but believed?

Did you submit to war and it’s hideous countenance, or did you strive toward peace that she might rise up with Love in her speech, erupt with love and goodness nestled upon her bosom?


© 2011 by mark prime