8.09.12 I Discarded revenge like a snake

(Junk Culture)

Love is here, she breathes our scent, knows our suffering, for it is hers to bear the brunt of the damage we’ve done to Love...

The Love of God, it is before you...

You haven’t revenge left in you, I took it out, I shed revenge like a snake. I turned you and I both into foes, brother, by my reckless turn. I loved you dearly, so I was left with little choice but to craft it of our pain, and, with the surplus of Love that I had amassed from my affection’s gait, I give to you, my brother, that your Life, your Laughter and the fullness of Love might rise within you at long last.

Go down in the flames of agony, or rise up to the surface of Heaven? I rose and fell to my bloodstained knees begging her to forgive me…

It’s simple really. Really simple actually.

Is that even possible? How could something that was really simple evade our forward vision? The eartH of Creation waits on our actions.

Let’s dance, not weep, unless it is for joy! Let’s not imagine anything greater than the eartH until we ourselves truly know something greater than the eartH! What must have we been thinking to treat her like nothing more than dirt? Mother eartH demands that we begin our journey…

Its time I give the Love I owe to others, before we begin to think of our own. The fullness of Love will be upon us, either way, so the outcome’s assured to be most Loving…

The story is not ours to write if it’s of anything other than love. We haven’t the right to speak as if we know anything more than the next of our journey after we die, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t believe, it just means we shouldn’t create hell on eartH when we’ve the chance to make it Heaven, after that, it’s within the fullness of Love, so anything after that can only be Loving if belief has anything to lend to the truth…

I’ve always been the scribe and I am fine with that. It’d be nice to have known sooner, but knowing me, I’d have sunken away from the challenge that was set down before me by the fullness of Love. Love is all I imagined, though my shell was slammed to the ground, full Love was/is all I could begin to imagine as the personal duty for my sins against others…

Do not fail. Do not fail to Live, Laugh and Love… Life depends on it.

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

read the poem

Waiting for It

Why do they stay there, between war and peace? Sky’s tapestry doles out guns, bombs and rocks while flesh and bone swim away from the ache yet live on as the food for the murder of peace. Why do we hide from the truth as if it were an ogre while death makes a home inside their living and war dispatches a raven to their door, smirking with the teeth of empire? Why do we wait, stooped for another wink? The sky’s drapery has tossed down ample clues, peace is breathing in harmony with war. (Road-maps are useless to blind leaders.) Why do they hold there, hunched in the gloom? Hatred’s bird cackling with bereavement needs end. Are we not rightly dishonored when we fill its trough with blood? © 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

read the poem

Laughter's Grip

They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait on His voice to destroy the golden temples of man, hold my tongue until His powerful breath was upon me, and from His loving casualties I’d at last know the Savior. They asked me to wait. To wait for God to come laughing, wait for His followers to die away their persuasive babble and the murder of Islam to breach the walls of the earth as the many damned souls drowned under holy laughter. “O! The Lord God is looming! On his way with God’s wrath! We are to take up swords and send evil howling back to die their well deserved and slow death! Their faces popped and spattered these words as they fell back, caught in His fiery presence, twisting their tongues into drivel and thrashing their minds in the glory of an Eden unlike any other. And then the snake planted his venom through the laughter of their gyrating madness. Tears emptied their pockets, spirits came crashing , and the anointed rapture of their making grew tire...

read the poem

CONFESSION ZERO

Search This Blog