Skip to main content

WORKING IT OUT OF SELF


I am here, evolving, you are there devolving of the sludge selfmade upon you. It is not anymore vile than the next, but it is all damn well vile! Contempt of the court, yes! I'm in contempt of the world's use of its genius beasts here to make life a pleasant experience! Not some damn fouled war! Lower all weapons and sing praises to the one who brought you from out of the clouds, but Me, for I had to take a journey of my own misuse and blow my Love's mind when my words favored her side to mine, but that was the spirit falling on his sword, giving you a priveledge unwanted, yet used to exact something from it that was certainly based on our Love at this juncture in the test you required of Love, be who your supposed to be an d all else words, works itself out...

© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

........•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...

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

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime