Skip to main content

Suffering at the Hand of Consumption


Love breathes in me like an echo from my past. Life after life after life and she begins to feel the truth in my grasp, in my words and I feel her only desire, to be loved.

Memories only come from-

The song can’t end. The song must go on, brothers and sisters…

Rise together now or suffer at the hand of your consumption.

Four seconds and counting in one way or the other that is for certain. I know. You can welcome me from the misty reaches of fear. That should just about do it. Let’s begin our dance anon that less need suffer…

Everything’s going to be okay in the end. It pays to have the reassurance of love.

___


It doesn’t happen all of the time. Your senses are mine, you are my brother, father, mother, sister, cousin, family, love. Play on now good soul, carry us to full love…

(Silence...)

I don’t desire the solitude. I need speak with love if I am to say that I worship full love.

Echo…

Stand up for the trees, the rivers and the streams. Stand up in unity with the children of this earth, the innocents that have laid in back of my death, my unconscious awakening. Have I been selected or have I been chosen?

What’s the difference? Try thinking of what’s next instead.

We must remember the order of things and remember who, what and where we are.

Home, child…

___


All that learning, and look at you?


© 2012 by mark richard prime


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

FAULT METER

FAULT METER    When you get a question wrong you will hear three loud beeps followed by an even louder ticking of a clock.    (Like tick-tick-tick-tick-tick?)    You are half right.    (Like tock-tock-tock-tock-tock?)    You got two halves of it.    (Then I give up!)    You do?    (It ain’t out of weakness, it’s my adhdad.) I understand.    (You understand what?)    That it’s not out of any weakness on your part.    (Weakness, on my part in what?)    Never mind, it’s definitely adhdad.     •    We float, we fly, we soar! We find our wings in each other. We find friends, cousins of the one seed of existence. An existence which never began, but always was, that loves us enough to provide life’s needs, our own, the same. A collection of living peacekeepers upon the surface of the most heavenly example known to them. • © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime