CONFESSION ZERO

Men without eyes will go out alone, shatter the portrait downward and to the jackals offer pennies of our jaded wish. Does anyone understand this? Have we thought of our lovelessness? Behind our last breaths of our unfortunate disgust, the fear-fouled goodness, the bleeding run through, the repellent nationalist, the deviating line in the sand, the scraggly-toothed oppressors, the slipshod parishioners, the depleted silvery-white, the dabbing stroke of agony, the bleakness of genocide, the onslaught of despotic ideals, the limbless industrialized slavery, the brutal sacraments of hypocrisy, the barbed fruits of empirical reckoning and the headless optimism of whole ruination... Does anyone know what I am saying? Have we thought of our collusion? O! Let us anoint our occasion of peace! Revolt of this, the master’s haunt! War should be our slave, not our medication! Not a haggard monster to move about or flaunt! Starvation can better be murdered than the humanity of our soul. Hate

Growing silent now, dampened mass- O! Knotted eartH, your organism smothered in echoes, `We have failed thee!' Under the darkened trench of your tears, entwined with your petals, your softness we’ve surrendered. Of your grass and stone and leaf and moss, we've not loved. Upon the base of winter and the crown of summer, we've tramped upon your back and tossed your gifts down upon your altar of our consumption. Veiling your horizon in the haplessness of filth and the shapeless shadow of war, we’ve coated your basin of tears with the ugliness of greed. Your creatures are failing. Your creatures are failing. Your children are failing. Growing silent now, dampened mass, polar bear and hippopotamus, vulnerable to our squander, exposed in our rush. Exploding mantle in maniacal audition for toxin-jawed craving, inky hubris supremacy. Growing silent now, dampened mass- O! Knotted earth, forgive us... © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Men live such lies. They march and rave, warring backward, spewing hate. It’d have been easier to witness, but for the slaughter of humankind. Do we not stand for anything? Have we such hate, spangle-toothed graves? Our humanity’s winnings in pain’s pragmatic deliverance. Isn't it time for us to be heard. Have we not the will to be free instead of slaves to apathy? March forward with lips wet of hope and legs heartened by love, life, laughter and liberty. © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

I dreamed I had colossal hands. I mean the size of hope! Someone asked, “Are those your hands?” and I said, “No." "I wish they were, my friend… If I had hands that big I would have held the (H)eartH before the war and kept her children in. I’d have put her in my hands and ran so far away! Away from empire! Away from conquerors and maddened men! And, while I ran, I’d have held her close near my ear and I’d have learned to speak her language, yet still heard her people dear.” Then my hands started to shake and I heard the people in them begin to slake, `Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! A small child then stood upon my wrist and declared to me, `You can put us down, my friend, we are finally free…’ I awoke suddenly! I could still hear the echoes of `freedom’... My hands trembled. Love... (Silence...) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

(Boom!) After each bomb removes blood-stained sidewalks, after each bullet eradicates love-stained happiness, after each grenade bursts hope-soiled reverence, after each body wrapped in fury-fouled vengeance are we to tell our children they’re safer for our rage? Are we to smile, hold hands, and sing sacred songs? Are we to not know the truth of that offended land? Will our history books tell the real story of this age? After each bombed sidewalk is made brand new again will shoes step off when war walks their way? After the happiness is replaced and made to laugh anew will sadness travel elsewhere, less sorrows need to stay? After holy worshippers again lift their prayers to the sky will man need evoke God’s name to take a life away? After each body finds no reason for strapping death to rib might fury's mask then be lifted and no more children die? Love... (Silence...) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Somewhere something has plunged beneath the surface toward the fiery core of last rites. We are now confronted with our assured darkness in the bending supremacy, wet and ascending, nodding to God’s turned eyes. (Silence...) We should be determined to face its pitiless shadow, lash it to truth and force it relinquish its wish. And at the foot of the drifting tree of our knowledge we must implore it lay down its malignancy now pointing upon the touch of heaven. (Silence...) Somewhere something shall burst through the surface toward the stunned sky, wet and ravenous. It will beckon war, the murderer. It will summon the thief, greed. We must beseech it free our reckless child now bending of annihilation’s reach. (Silence...) We must love all. We must love. (Echo...) © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime