the Echo of Mark Richard Prime, the Flip-side to our We, Me.

This is the Echo... I offer you Smokey and the Mirror, a metaphor in my belief that rings a bell as to the unfolding taking place now. WHen it begins sliding down and out of control, the truth is summoned to change Peace in Love's mind.
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My path is my own, it can be no other way, so I thought I would change that and make it about everyone, with me being the least. It is selflessness in its most comforting form, not, "O my God! We're in agony! Help us!", but in a more comfortable God who needn't such absolutes in the constant flux. I offer no absolute, I'm human on his way to God. Come along if you choose! Rules were meant to be BROKEN!
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Belief is a powerful tool when used to divide from instead of to join with. See?
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It's less about what we believe in ourselves, but what is being believed in the whole spirit, the kit and kaboodle, don't lose your kit for your kaboodle or visa versa, this is the God train and it's rolling just enough to take on passengers with Mark Richard Prime, Me, the other half of We. Peace Choo choo! Rejoice! God is working on our story, I'm jsut unlucky enough to be handed the hands back, the hands of my confession! Rejoice! God is within! Bada bing bang boom it could not have happened sooner. The dance is rough, the opposite of God is a dance we all get to have. I can help with that.
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I know my place in the story, it is after all, the place I was born to be. Our roles in our own stories are not yet completed. I, for one, am stoked! where I'm going only God knows. Purposeful, purposed, purpose. Love does not leave. Love stays. Decide for yourself what you believe, what you see, what you do, what you imagine of Me, the flip-side. Its going to be Heavenly, watch Me.
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I have lost it all in order to know the truth, otherwise, I'd be in trouble with God. See? If I start from my birth, my beginning, God, Creation, (H)eartH, Heaven, will show favor upon Me. Truth. Let's dance, shall we?!
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I'm about to tell my story in all of its glory, no more of this game which is hidden from my knowing. I will know and I will forgive and readily forget, for if I don't, forgiveness has not been... It is not possible, we are meant to forget, it is part of our being, not rocket science, simple logic.

I will have it. I will justify my existence by the words that pour forth from God, through Love and into Peace to scribe his way free.
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The ultimate Forgiveness is our Forgetting the pain and suffering, its where Hell is released and Heaven is realized. I am there now.

Peace

Please smile upon Me, I'm the other half of you, i will enter in at the end to tell my whole story, without names or fame or fortune due to my singular self, but to our collective self. Truth. If another is using these words as a shield to their own truth, they will soon have to face their flip-side, Me. See? We are meant to be Heavenly Weavers, all, not some, all!

http://heartheartearth.wordpress.com/2014/08/15/mirror-mirror-smoke-smoke-tell-me/ MIRROR MIRROR, SMOKE, TELL ME

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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