Skip to main content

WORKING THROUGH AND THROUGH... THE DANCE OF A LIFETIME, ALL INCLUSIVE CELEBRATION! HUMANKIND! MEDICATE!


Many a night is spent imagining what my life would have been able to have given instead of this godawful collision with a fate that was not mine to carry, so i carried the metaphorical football and ran it in for a touchdown and the ground did give away around me and there she was, there we fell into a story that only one of us to know it was coming...

My Love, I would not drag you to hell with the likes of Me, God forbid Me doing any further damage to Love. It's payback, powerless to freewill, therefore true and not belief. Coffee? (Yes. What did you mean?) Hot coffee, half and half, maybe some sugar, my love is here with Me as I speak.

The old spirit that was rage and sorrow, reborn to Peace and Love, working through the flux that moves along with, or without us.

© 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