The HeartH of Creation’s Song

I don’t know, I believe. But what I am able to know must be champion according to what I know, which is very little in the larger scheme; the flipside to belief, if you will.

I had little choice in the matter when it came to Love. She doesn’t like to play silly games of greed, lust and control. Damnable fear…

Who needs fear on eartH? I need instinct and free will…

With all of the noise, I’m missing the HeartH of Creation’s song beneath my feet and over my head.

I’m inside of Creation, a child yet to be born…

I had to fade out, a breath held deeply, waiting on the truth to whisper an ode in my ear…

I could recall them one at a time, the shadows that tore at my heels to keep me from tumbling headlong. I didn’t run from them, I entered in and did bid them to bend their pleas to the majesty of the (H)eartH of Love…

Mother and Father, child and angel, woman and man, animal, spirit collectors, Love...

(Spirit collectors? Really?)

I shouldn’t just have belief to fall back on… tumble instead into Love and the truth will set me free…

Might I have been in hell this whole time and given a glimpse of the eartH’s Heaven from my upside down wits? By hell I mean the suffering humankind wages upon themselves as thinking beasts, when all they need to know is beneath their feet…

The balance of Love, the flipside, if you will, must be fear, for fear is the only thing that can challenge the truth of Love.

(Fear was designed for just such a thing.)

If I think she is sacred, I must begin my duty, to speak up for the eartH of Love, to summon my voice eartHward that she might only know my sorrow after I’ve learned of hers…

Her song is playing for Creation’s children. I must rise up now and open my eyes to the eartH of Creation and Love… she’s been waiting on me to come around.

Her song is playing, we just can’t hear it over all of our noise.

The freeway drone comes through like a blade set to puncture Love. Nobody else standing up, we’re leaving it up to her.

I say let’s do something unheard of, let’s create Heaven with the things we’re given and stop creating hell from the things we’re not…

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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