8.27.12 Necessity is Our Need, Not Our Want

(Frames/sing - Anslem's Proof of God)

Isn’t it possible that we are a part of this thing we’ve coined evolution, our adaptability theory or our belief’s presumption heaped upon the great and immense unknown unknowable, and we’re evolving toward laughter, life and Love; evolving love in motion toward the fullness, the center of Love, as if our very spirits depend on it? There’s a word for that…

(Necessity is your need, not your want. Remember…)

There are so many loveless gestures in the spirits that dwell within the one singular exactness of the loving spirit, wherever and whatever. We’re evolving, we’re adapting to our need to love over our inane desire to be King and Queen of the loving eartH of Life, Laughter and Love with a tyrants fist…

Rejoice at the news! Our folly can be held away from its trembling if we’ll but love the eartH of Creation in return…

(Echo…)

The birds chime in as if on cue, or perhaps my ears entered in from prayer to Home, Heaven on eartH to you…

The colors are righteous, the air, crisp with sounds- and then the noise pierces my finely woven shell and I bleed her prayer out…

(Again.)

The colors are peaceful, the air, crisp with her natural sound- and then man’s foul noise pierces my finely woven shell and I bleed her prayer out…

(Again.)

The colors are lovely, the air, crisp with sounds, the bypass noise pierces my finely woven shell and I bleed her prayer immediately out…

Her song pierced my spirit long ago, in the field as a child with Heaven in my sights, as I lay in my verdict’s darkness near my near death, upside down, near my salvation. It wasn’t exactly near to me, the idea of where I might end up in the next phase of evolution, I chose angel over the human animal, I chose Mother over the human Father to reign as most loved in this belief’s kingdom within the (H)eartH of Creation. I chose Love over fear, the choice is not as easy as it may sound when you’ve torn her fleshy spirit with your actions and your words, the best thing to offer her is my silence…

(The best thing you can offer her is your self, who you were born to be.)

Good point, Curmudgeon.

(It’s obvious, Rimnod!)

Yes.

(Silence...)

Yes.

(Silence...)

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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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

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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...

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CONFESSION ZERO

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