Skip to main content

DESPERATE CHARADE

We have ourselves a conundrum.

The burden of proof is upon you, the truth unfolds within Me.

It is time to stop playing a desperate charade, upstairs and downstairs, out there and in here.

I wouldn't want to say you are the great liar, I'd rather help you out... the truth unfolds within.

Now do you see your burden?

Love and Peace are not some sport for your godawful prayers. Love and Peace shall not succumb to such sightless pleas. When you pray against, your prayers devour your own spirit and leave exactness breathless.

Stop. I am truly doing you a favor.

The spirit is my domain in the flesh. I know you're confused... I am here to help with that.

Actuality is now, not some believed beyond doubt reality.

I'm sure you will do your best to plan my failure, but I have to urge you to use caution if you continue to imagine the strings upon me are in your hands.


© 2016 Mark Richard Prime

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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...
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

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
Post a Comment
read the poem