Skip to main content

NOT TRAPPED NOT

I am not trapped, I might appear to be walking into a "trouble", but being aware (instinctually) of what's coming is not exactly walking in unaware... I may not "know" the details, but I sure "know" the gist.

Now what?

(We continue to ignore you.)

What the hell for?

(The council.)

The council?

(You really don't know do you?)

Know what?

(You are the scribe of this story, dear child... They're waiting on you to awaken...)

...these are tears of joy, by the way...

They flow out of both eyes like a waterfall. They flow until my mind settles into my spirit. My soul’s being reworked, so to speak.

That might be worrisome to some, but when you’ve been ingesting the spirit of others unbeknownst to the self for your entire existence, it loses its worrisome coat and instead stays for a good and confident long while.

Hello.



© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


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