Skip to main content

911, what's your emergency?


(911, what's your emergency?)

Love!

(Though I would tend to agree, sir, this is 911 and we're not equiped to bring you love, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with today?)

What’s come of this, our day? Feels like a pale remembrance as if we’ve not slept since or our eyes never fully opened, living near death, over and over, never realizing what we’ve done.

(What have you done, sir?)

The dead walk by our closed doors just as they did before. Maybe years from now someone will open them and see there’s no one there, open the cupboards and gaze at the ghost’s of a bare boned affection that move about in the living dust, in the echoes of our dancing within the last of our days, even if there’s nothing worth remembering or somehow it all got misplaced, perhaps tucked away for a rainy day, a keepsake for tomorrow that never came… or never was.

(Oh. Yes. I see.)

Walk with heads held high. Honor all the love that’s been taken away by your own hand and all those you were meant to touch, or should have smiled upon and embraced, for soon all this will be gone.

(What's your name sir?)

© 2010 by mark richard prime

(Hold while I transfer you to my supervisor-

(Noise...)

(Laughter... 911 supervisor, what's your emergency?)

Love! Love! Love!

(Laughter! - Is this one of those prank shows?)

Love!

(Laughter! - Okay. Okay, I'll bite. Your emergency is-)

Love!

(Love, yes. We've established that, but what do expect me to do about Love?)

Click...

(Hello? Hello? He hung up! That guy was a few phone-calls short of Love...)

I'm still on the line...

(Oh crap! Sorry, sir. Now what was it you needed, sir?)

Love!

(I've got officer Love en route to your location, sir. Just remain on the line with me while officer Love-)

Click...

(Laughter...)


© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem
........•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...
Post a Comment
read the poem

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
32 comments
read the poem