To All My Fellow Brothers and Sisters

To all my fellow brothers and sisters, I offer nothing less than my love, and to my Home I offer the sturdiest of my belief, that which counts before it gets to know the truth of another. I’m headed toward goodness, whatever it may or may not be is not for me to imagine for if I cannot know, I cannot imagine it to be. I will be wrong, so I am trying my best at being the least bit Algebraic in my thoughts.

(You? Math? Ha! That’s an outright joke! You couldn’t do math to save your life, numbskull!)

And a good day to you fine spirit.

(Cut the crap, scribe and get to scribing!)

I am and you are along my way. Hello. It was most kind of you to dance with me this morning. It is a dance, our turn to make a difference in what we know instead of ignoring the truth in our duality, what we know and what we can’t. We are gnashing our wits in the hell of our making and we’ve begun to see instead of flee, we are standing up for Home, for Love, for all and everything! Let us empower ourselves with our love.

The noise, at first comes swimming my way through the neighboring air. Now I know not the language, but I certainly recognize the loving spirit within it. And so it goes with all of my dances with my fellow spirit, my belief rises that much higher, because I am not in control when I am in bliss, the many fellow loving spirits begin their dance within me, anywhere I go and seemingly no matter how brief. I guess what I am saying I must tell you that I know who you are, much in the same way that I’ve begun to realize who I am and that I’m existing between both the physical realm and again in the spiritual realm, the thread that weaves its way around truth and delivers to us what we need to know instead of what we believe…

(Silence…)

(Echo…)

(Echo…)

(Echo…)

(Echo…)

Equal rights for all, based on our being human and because we’re sovereign individuals.

Hallelujah! I for one think it is the rightful and only just thing to do, love all equally. Let us rid ourselves of fear based on where we imagine we're going. Let us love where, who and what we were intended to be, instead…

Love, peace and goodness to you, yours and the eartH...

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

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........•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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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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CONFESSION ZERO

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