Love Is a Symphony

Love is a symphony, is it not?

The night began to move beneath the mist and the trumpet sounded in Heaven! The call to Love is a symphony of sound and it is hidden from us by our machines and wars and Godawful thoughts and rage. Let us fall away from hate and indifference…

(Silence...)

Can’t everyone see that I am in need of a listen, if for nothing else, the fact that I believe this belief is Humankind’s wish, as are all wishes. Yours and yours and yours and mine and yours and yours and yours and- it is ours to create! Ours! Rejoice that we are able creators on our way to wherever...

(Ask and you can bet your worthless dollar, you shall receive it…)

I feel I must have your ear, one way or another. I am begging you my friends to help me solve this riddle.

(Discretion is the better part of valor, is it not?)

Go ahead and be discreet, just help by engaging me…

Question what I write. For the love of all and even me, engage my dancing spirit and let’s get down to business!

(Why challenge the will of God?)

Are you saying that even God is beyond reproach? How about beyond approach? Are we not meant to be, born as loving spirit carriers of the Creator, to question so that we might learn? Are we not born to question, thereby making the answers even plausible? Ask Creation for its Love and Creation will deny you for Love is not to be had, Love is.

(Pray to God, pray to Creation that the answers come forthwith and a Heavenly Home is yours if you'll act upon your own will. Don’t be afraid of the results of such a journey, only be afraid if you do not act upon what you know before you ever imagine acting upon what you believe.)

If I do not begin to question what I know and what I believe equally, I will have learned and accomplished nothing…

Love, my dear, can and will conquer all. We are tamed by the fullness of one another’s love, but we must not succumb to failure, we must rise to create our own Heavenly Home…

I must engage now and change the outcome of my own belief, the Creator will have its own will, nothing in the least that I can do about that, and, if I create paradise with what I know, I think I’ll be less apt to imagine what Creation truly has in store for me after I pass on. But now, you are my Love. Now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and now and an evermore of now.

Love…

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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