Skip to main content

I SHOULD BE SPEAKING - TWO


These words they’re supposed to be coming out of my mouth for me to hear, and my imagination’s flying me above the stars, for after them surely there’s more?

No.

Exactly. What?

No. No. No. No.

Oh no, I’m not saying I know anything, but I believe it beyond of any shadow, of any doubt that there is.

It is unknowable.

Yes. Speaking of unknowable, love’s been waiting for someone to come and there traveled I. Help me by bringing me love's spirit, I will join it and, with love's dance, I'll remove any darkness, any fear, leaving me in the heaven I've always and ever imagined.

Either way, you should make it your belief...

Yes.
© 2012 by mark richard prime


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

SKYFALL

Skyfall... We continue to play along with an unnatural game that has serious consequences, soon we'll find ourselves enslaved without recourse to the system. (Is that true of local charades?) Yes. (Why can't we free ourselves from the system?) The madness of money. (It's not money, it's people, right?) It's both, money and us in tandem, thus assuring money's might and our adherance to its loudness. (Madness...) Indeed. © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

THE ROCK HOLDS

The rock holds the soil in and from the soil springs the tree, the green of LIFE rolling from the blue, rising to the occasion of itself. . “Be!”, the (H)eartH declares, “Be what you are!” . (We thought we were!) . (We think we are!) . “You are, but not freely, therefore, only a thought, and a thought without much thinking, as if you were scared into it.”, the (H)eartH added. . [a quietude begins, the truth being heard and heeded, grooving to the flow] ~ © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

sdrawkcaB nruT (Turn Backwards)

I have been witness to the four pillars and see no reason to carry death there. Doesn’t the world know that life moves for more than just the sons of Abraham? O! I see the stunned throats floating by in the dusk to their stiff-limbed sleep as metal rains down over the Jordan’s western prophet, children dying there. I am here, waiting, breathing in the dusk under the shadow of the patriarch, asking, can we again build the shrine inside the soul and leave our flesh to time? © 2008 mrp/thepoetryman