CONFESSION ZERO

MOTHER, may I have more of you, less of your unsolved mystery? (Love & Peace, child, didn't satisfy your want. You mustn't nourish such dull things.) I sense your depth of sorrow, Oily tears sounding like a drum, Like our paintings of the sun. (The sun needs nothing from Humankind, however, Humankind needs much from the sun.) And the moon, ocean, star and sea. I give praise to the known and the unknown, Who am I to say what is true? We unfold with time, with gladness, with Love and into Peace. One of these is an illusion. (Ticktock...) © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

dear Woman you're floating above like worship we must hold you there raise you up in our thoughts in our prayers our flesh and bone care the truth is, all women are the essence of Mother and this without resistance is the truth of our beginning you are all beautiful not just to God or (H)eartH but to those like Me those who seek our own true worth it is at our birth we seek the light come howling from your loving nest into ready arms and nurturing breasts we seek then to connect for Love's sake upon your pathway our green breathing our beginning you are the pathway back home for each of our warm beginnings through your flesh through your spirit through your red reach woman, mother, daughter sacred echoes of life's new breathing i humbly bow as a son a vacant father a present brother uncle, grandfather i bow to the power of woman to the whole of Mother i graciously applaud the fullness of Mother sacred angels any t...

She is the Mother in search of a Father, at least a figure of the man she believes she needs, and she does, does Love. I need know the pang of my own vacant fatherhood. In order to serve, I ingest and cleanse sickness and fear, in search of self, coming up empty, still combing the debris and on to the next dis-ease until we are the cure and not some vacant thing waiting for a savior instead of being one. She manifests the echo of creation come through the balance between God and Love. I now believe. I scribe the story with a balanced curiosity, with many hands and many souls. She waits, I groove. I wait, She grooves. You wait, We groove. We do. © 2015 Mark Richard Prime

The spirits were loosed that I might listen, heed the cry of Love, The Mother’s requiem moving my soul to again worship the original gift of Home. © 2015 Mark Richard Prime, I am.

Here's to the strength of mother, of daughter, of faith in family, of reasonable tears, of Love and of Peace. Bless the Mother's experience of and with child, bless the child, bless the union, there's less suffering in it... © 2014 Mark Richard Prime

O the canopy of affection behind our paintings, the masterpiece of birth, the beauty of child, we must remember them, can't forget. They are the truth of our journey, the lace in our garments rendered as small stewards for our joy. The shortness of our breath comes slowly, long after we've taken our first. we are the breathing child of Creation's slant, of God's grant of an exactness of birth. The truth is we love, mean to be kind, lose our way and then come back. This lovely child was a gift, a smiling, writhing boy, one of us, one of thee, one of all, the children are maps to our first breath. The end of one signals a new beginning, not a death, but a fresh birth, a return of our flesh-born wealth, truth, come manifest, take us back to Peace. Remember this child, remember them all now, for without them, we feel alone, would be, too, crestfallen in our quake, sorrowful, needing to laugh. Remember them! They are We and Thee, a painting of...

Men, it is time to pay up or shut up about how much you care if you can't show it. We are Peacemakers, not warriors. Remember that mother is most precious to God, child the breath before, we are the consciousness of God... © 2014 Mark Richard Prime

I may appear, at times, foolish in my human shell, but I have by no means been fooled in the dance. I have moved through the years in reverse order, now the light is shining brightly, my spirit is moving outwardly toting Love and Peace from the inside to the out of Me. I do not pretend to know, but what I’m given, I believe, is a truth born within and now being sent through my speech. The medicine’s (God) changed me from who I had become to a person now enveloped in Creation’s loving tongue. She’s with me, is Love, a union with Peace since begun. My way may seem reckless, but it leads Me to Heaven, a course set long ago, lifetimes of forgetting where I've been. The many spirits in Me now, do sense a fateful dawn, a road less traveled my feet have been set down upon, The truth of the wind and Me honoring the Mother’s plea, Creation’s glance upon the very nature of We. Mark Richard Prime, the last one with Love’s agreement and Peace’s tongue… Love and Peace ...

Let them be... Miracles have been around far longer than our parasitic species can imagine. The Mother, the Mother (H)eartH is a miracle. The (H)eartH doesn't fight for its life, it absorbs its medicines through us that we might make things right with her and him. Love&Peace Peace&Love © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Good night my kind spirits all. The fine-feathered and the more down to (H)eartH, The love and the forgiveness, the courageous and the timid, the all out and the limited! Smile this ode to the Mother, to the sister and the brother, the uncle and the father, the son and the daughter, great and grand, boom bam boom bong the song... Peace © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Don't breathe in the one thing within the truth that holds down Peace. Do not consider the path most consumed, take the one that Loves, that Forgives our use of her, our Laughter upon her bosom. Live, Love and Laugh with me my fine-feathered spirits, this is for you my kindred spirit, my wife, my brother, my mother, my in-laws, my daughters, my nephews, nieces, aunts and uncles... ~ I pray for the day that "the war machine" (and the warriors who serve it) is no longer the strength of any nation, but that the strength of the world is seen in its Peace (and the peacemakers that serve it)... Peace and Love © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

Again we remain, unmoving automatons, as if our spirit shells are self-destructing no less than as if we are failing the mother, our own. We wait around as if it will come without ...our will. I think it is coming at the same time as my scribing, my plea to the loved, the living and dying, so why do we not act as if the whole is crying our will... The masks cover our inherent shame in how we worshipped, end the grip of our talking boxes and raise our hands to help, Do not consider it work, consider it creation in our grasp, mold it toward the fullness of what our kinship and Love might be, a profound possibility of where we are as a collective moon sustaining me... Don't breathe in the one thing within the truth that holds down Peace. Do not consider the path most consumed, take the one that Loves, that Forgives our use of her, our Laughter upon her bosom. Live, Love and Laugh with me my fine-feathered spirits, this is for you my kindred spirit, my wife, my b...

Bomb. Bomb. Bomb. Bomb. Bomb! We disregard that we don't know death. Occasionally we stop thinking about the bomb silent in its descent, much like death. Sometimes only a murmur dropping in the air, sensed in our unbending march. Splitting children like atoms in a lab, their mother’s wailing death after them. We sense the bomb long after its fallen, now motionless, shrapnel standing at attention, immersed inside the face of horror. It aches too much for us to re-imagine, so we don’t, we see another movie, hear another song, play a different game, brains deadened, eyes closed to the noise found in war. O! What a belief we've crafted of our bombs! © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

The Mother (H)eartH is not weaker than the polluters, it's just that she is very forgiving. Tick tock... We can conquer that which holds ourselves away from sensing our purpose. It is not to conquer anything, it is to submit to Home as most precious. The way to do that is to cherish one another as beings in motion toward the "unknown", upon Home and toward that which we shape, we shape our experience of "reality" as we go forward together... ~ The love of self is the thing which we have had inexplicably altered/stripped away within ourselves. The self gives rise to the collective, the Spirit of humanity's oneness. Cherish one another, cherish Home... Peace and Love © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

My Lovely angel Love is a rather evident angel. She is most loving, forgiving and honest, she is beautiful inside and out, often silent, with a truly caring voice when she speaks. Laughter escapes her lips, an ode to Creation. Within her exists her children's spirits carried with great care and she holds them near, even when they're not there. She is Love and Forgiveness elegantly personified against my great need for both as Peace and Laughter. I'm grateful to witness her wings rise up, to sense her inner-heavenly-child , and, yes, I realize my fortune, ever after... © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

We are as rooted as the tree. Of that we certainly agreed. She spoke confidently, I heard, like the water finds its groove, I sensed her belief. Like the root senses water, the river its current, the wolf its night, the mother her daughter. We are rooted as the tree. Home’s where we begin, Love’s where we breathe, Peace, our sacred endeavor, Forgiveness, born in us at birth, Laughter’s the body’s elixir. Rejoice, our Christ is near, God’s rooted within You and Me, in We, not unlike the tree… © 2013 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime

To all my fellow brothers and sisters I offer nothing less than my love And to my Home I offer the sturdiest of my belief That which counts before another’s truth that I can’t see Headed for goodness, the one exactness Whatever it may or may not be, it's trackless Not for me to imagine in the least Since I cannot know, I’d be wrong, see So I am trying my best at just being Me More should try themselves on for size At what they find they might be surprised O, Let it go Let of what you cannot possibly know Come along before it’s too late Might as well be Love beats the hell out of hate Boom boom Dance and sing the heart’s satisfaction Dance beneath the sky Laugh with a child’s reaction Remember three words "I Love You" No need to cry my brother, my sister Only need rejoice in Home In kinship to one another, father and mother Life rising up to greet us with a kiss on the cheek Inheriting the (H)eartH, it’s not just for the meek It’s for those who...

Mother and Father Nature are One. A circle that cannot be broken. Love, Forgiveness, Laughter, my Truth, all, Peace and joy in the only paradise in the sky known to man! Oh my! This is Heaven to us, Heaven to God, Love, Forgiveness, Peace and Laughter, all of Creation, known and unknown... Is the challenge sufficient, dear readers? Have I now fallen into what I call action without speaking much at all? The spirit dance as I imbibe in a belief that saves everything and all, the whole kit and kaboodle, the care package of all time, our salvation. O! Kind spirits! Bring me along with you and We, together, can change hell into Heaven! Speak with me, I will in Kind, God and Love are the two that stay in flight in my poem, my ode to Mother and Father, Daughter and Son, Child and Parent, Guide and Savior. To all.To God and Love, the only two things that must be known in order for there to be Peace and Laughter over War and Disaster on the (H)eartH everafter, or until something dif...

Let me pray that Creation holds humankind in favor and protects humankind essentially from fearful belief, and informs us to The Truth, and allows us to decide that what we imagine to know does not trump what breathes beneath our thrashing spirit and body. ____ I cannot hold back my belief's story, if anyone has suffered from my silence, let it be known that I am not in control of this, the chart of my seed, it is God and Love. It is I, the scribe, the man without warrant seized upon the book of plays with from which to select, your destiny my friends, is up to you. (Those that can't shall be worshiped just the same...?)? The truth is not mine to wager, the truth is but mine to write. If I speak it I become worshiped, if I stumble with it while trying, I beg you forgive me once and for all, and let's get to dancing with one another at last! Or has it always been me to be the one that finds out last? ____ Better yet, write your words here for me to see, I shall da...

My conversation's with Love and Creation... Your hell will lend you no favors when it comes to who you are... What? I'll get back to you on that. All are within my dance, it's mind-blowing to say the least. Women are the chosen ones, my friends. They summon what is best in our function, in Life. They are nearer to Love than we, women, yet it is their children, all children, that do give testament to their fullness when it presents itself to you, and the children, before the Mother and Father, even before them are nearest to Loves fullness... © 2012 the spirit of Love dancing through Mark Richard Prime