THERE IS NOT ONE CHILD ALIVE TODAY BECAUSE OF A BOMB CONSTRUCTED OF PROFIT

There’s this rule I follow. Treat all as my equal. All.

(There’s a drum in that and a violin. There’s a flute letting down her hair, a cello thrumming its way into my heart. Boom! Boom went the bomb when humankind’s tongue began to toil, money’s more precious than even Heaven, but not oil! Money’s the root and greed has drawn man as a stick figure in a land of trees.)

There’s not one child alive today because of a bomb constructed from greed!

(Boom! Boom! Boom is not for man’s virulent rage and loveless smirks spinning their shells into a final war, a self-propelled Armageddon, Boom! Boom! Boom!)

Boom is for Creation. The profit from misery recoils in gloom and leaves all without breath, without flesh, without.

(You’re too frightened to think beyond your nose, you’re pushed up against your loving glass trying to steal a glance of your true reflection! Why does the magnitude of Love hold us here?)

I’ll not find heaven until I Love.

(When eternity plunges within the spirit, you will know heaven.)

The streets of gold, those of man, will waste away into the next great excavation of “civilization”. All nations in their next burst of thought will, I pray, remember the eartH, recall the rivers and I pray recall what I did to the water, the meadow and the tree, the flesh and bone, to you and to me. Remember, how I care for life reflects my love for Creation.

The song of peace is within me. It writhes deep beneath the wars, the murder, the rape and the greed, beneath the tarnishing of Heaven.

(Summon your love to its original tallness! Seek out your reason, do not hesitate, it will rise!)

Cease my unreasonable dreams and look beneath my feet. She awaits my stewardship.

(Remember, Love is everything, you can no more write Creation’s script than you can edit out your own…)

........•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...

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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

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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

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CONFESSION ZERO

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