A Hushed and Soothing Reverie

Right after the sky had seemingly dumped all its gloom upon this world and sunny days lay ahead of us… some of us… maybe some lucky son of the rich. Just when the world could use some talk of peace and healing of wounds and unruffled reflection allowed to descend… or shine… or sidle between dry lips.

O! That this world could make use of silence or a hushed and soothing reverie from the heavy chains knotted around our breath. The tongues are corroded over with idols and liars and hordes of impish drones and toadies and criminals, a fine mess we’ve made of it! A fine mess we’re into now, a world in disarray.

And someone’s going to stop breathing tonight. A father’s going to cry, kill or pray as someone else will sleep far away from his grief. Sleep roundly without sorrow. The moving sand and running streets and flying steel pilfering the radiance will send a messenger, a virgin warrior, with tidings of community and expectation, only to return with news of a lifeless planet with lifeless inhabitants; dull and jaded. Another more seasoned warrior will then be sent with reports and bags of gold, only to return with news of an insensible planet with insensible and terrified patrons. Then it will be time to send the general, a gallant, fearless stag of impeccable servitude armed only with the kings dangling gaze hard upon his back. The news is good. The planet breathes. The previous, now lifeless dispatches were two-faced traitors…

Right after the sky had seemingly dumped all its gloom upon this world and sunny days lay ahead of us… some of us… maybe some lucky son of the rich. Just when the world could use some talk of peace and healing of wounds and unruffled reflection allowed to descend… or shine… or sidle between dry lips, a command was given to cease all opposition and to run crying for shelter.

Come! Warble your dissent! Whimper in anger! Snivel in disbelief and comfortless drivel until the soil trembles with your quaking of our liberty that is the world’s torment, for the virgin and the seasoned have been silenced and all that remains is monstrous! O! If the rivers could but sing of this time they’d flood the world in sorrowful verse...

........•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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FAULT METER

FAULT METER When you get a question wrong you will hear three loud beeps followed by an even louder ticking of a clock. (Like tick-tick-tick-tick-tick?) You are half right. (Like tock-tock-tock-tock-tock?) You got two halves of it. (Then I give up!) You do? (It ain’t out of weakness, it’s my adhdad.) I understand. (You understand what?) That it’s not out of any weakness on your part. (Weakness, on my part in what?) Never mind, it’s definitely adhdad. • We float, we fly, we soar! We find our wings in each other. We find friends, cousins of the one seed of existence. An existence which never began, but always was, that loves us enough to provide life’s needs, our own, the same. A collection of living peacekeepers upon the surface of the most heavenly example known to them. • © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

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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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