Skip to main content

Roar This Speech


This morning I roar this speech!

Why roar, why not sing it, why not speak it within your silence? Why not stand up and be counted, seen as more than just another in the horde of others?

If humankind is of one spirit then the term "horde" would mean the collective and if the collective stands up and demands that our beliefs join our reality, then we are destined for a conscience that can truly be beneficial to all life. And if all of life is our concern, we've got a journey ahead of us that will be filled with wonder and miracles never imagined coming from our actions and our thoughts.

Let’s be careful then that we create with Love. In doing so, we can remove our unfounded fears forever.

If it’s not instinctual, it’s irrational and if it’s irrational it’s unneeded and if it’s unnecessary, why think on it?

(Because you brought it up.)

Yes, but it’s not up to me to tell you, kind spirit, what to think about any particular proposition in belief, it’s up to you as a sovereign individual entity to consider it.

(Why?)

Because I believe beyond a doubt that the train is off its tracks and has been for far too long. We find ourselves too rapidly tumbling toward belief, and, since I believe that the majority of our beliefs are in stark contrast to our realty, one might want to consider seeking within to find the answer.

I believe we’re set to come face to face with the truth of who, what and where we are, I’m just trying to prepare for it.

(Prepare for it by writing like a madman?)

Appearances can be deceiving. I’m dancing with Love through my actions and my words. I’m letting Love envelop my fingers in its desire. My own personal desires are secondary in this belief…

(How on eartH is that even possible?)

Because I’m dancing with a whole horde of spirit.

(Silence…)

 (ping)

© 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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

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
12 comments
read the poem

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...
23 comments
read the poem