CONFESSION ZERO

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. Stop... © 2011 by mark prime

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

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 w