Skip to main content

I AM JUST TELLING A STORY, I AM MERELY THE SCRIBE, GIFTED IN THE DANCE OF THE SPIRIT, SPIRIT DANCER


YOU WILL NOT STAND BY AS IF YOU DID NOT KNOW.

(Why are you yelling?)

I wasn't, but Why isn't everybody yelling the truth at the top of their lungs!

(Because they don't know it, Scribbler, it's just you.)

It is, huh? I will not give it away. You do what you will with these words and this man, but you will never give away the unknown truth rising up in Me! Do what you will with the story, but this man's not finished by a long shot! Giddy up springtime of God!

There is no need to fear this rising, there is, however, great need to get together with this fool Scribe, he will certainly entertain you like never before, as long as you keep in mind that he is just telling a story. It'll be fun. :)


© 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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
Post a Comment
read the poem

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

Access to...

It's odd to me that the future is accessible to God, but we're stuck with remembering the past, it's untenable. History repeats itself from our obsession with it. I say leave history where it is and instead create something of a present worth repeating.  © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
Post a Comment
read the poem