CONFESSION ZERO

( OCModshop.com ) The rain pours as if it weeps for me, for what I've permitted, for what I've forgotten. This, my stewardship, hasn't its anchor, nothing to stay the rage, the emptiness, save for nature’s wrath. O! I coveted fulfillment, the heaving shell- a use no longer ready, the weight too great to fathom, the deceit, an unvoiced iceberg breaching the covenant with myself! I'll have blame to spread like manure over the shame of capsized Love, as goodness takes in its last lungful like a first-rate captain sinking into the void. (It is written that Jesus was the son of man, so the proclaimer became the proclaimed.) Am I too not the son of man, aren't we all the sons and daughters of man, cousins of the original seed, brothers and sisters, those who will soon seethe of a mutated fortune? As a steward of Heaven I've drained all use from truth, from Love, from joy, pilfered from my very hands. Soon I'll congregate in a cave like bats and p...

( MeqoDesign, Beautiful Nightmare ) When the setting sun revealed its vow above the dusk on the horizon’s edge it ushered in the hours of darkness behind its hallowed cradle and I found myself rapt by the creatures stepping out, flying above, hopping around, speaking the incantation of nature, without weapons, without the injustice of a loveless power, without questioning the reality that brought them here. To them, paradise is this moment, this minute, this flash, this present time of worship, now, this instant, not in a while or when called away to eversleep. Beasts moving within the cycle of life, upon the one thing, the only Home they’ve ever known, smile at the sustenance found within their original dwelling, the only paradise they’ve ever dreamed… or imagined. Even if it’s merely this time around, this chance, it’s not in vain, for the animal hasn’t a need to know, or time to be bothered with why, what, who or when. They abide by the unwritten allegiance to being; the...

( African Violet Chimera ) I pace this emerald reward as if it must end. But what of life? It seems to be the ultimate gift and that which the river fills, the air breathes, man sees, and the water feeds… And isn’t life, that which sustains without question, without the need to know, without distinctions, exclusive of me altogether? My curiosity turns toward the root, yet rots and cracks if I but spurn my kinship, deny my promise to another, to my kind, to Love, that which breathes like the wind and sun inside of all living things, that which is held inside the whole of life. This world, this earth, with it’s breathing art, is set to greet me daily if I would but open my eyes to witness her and feel the one thing I’ve truly ever known, which is still belief since we become the thing we hunt,   no less and no more than the dog, the lion, the deer, the bear and this freely given life. Then, and only then, might I see myself dying, fading for what I've...

"Easter has less to do with one person's escape from the grave than with the victory of seemingly powerless love over loveless power" --Bill Coffin Flags drape Easter’s unknown tomb, strapped around rock with metal’s twisted brooch. Sorrow stains the air (where steel spikes pierced hands and feet)  slinging hope like a missile out its cage of a valiant plot into the mislaid reaches of cruelty. Why must mankind heave and lick the powerless air with death’s dark tongue? The disconcerted stand silent on dead-end streets awaiting hope to unravel... come undone. © 2011 by mark prime

( Worlds of Imagination ) Yesterday came and then fled with the light. Over the wet loam I traipsed, as the sun mumbled its last and I imagined myself a giant. My tall shadow curved the trees to gaze upon me, a giant, a small “g” god afoot, a trembling oaf, lacking even a shred of shame or explanation. My gaping footprint surprised even me as I stomped down into the valley making holes, smiling at my tallness and magnificent clout. Two sheep moved nearer and with a great puff I sent them stumbling away clacking their hooves. My mouth was very pleased with itself. The red sky knew of my self-seeking delight and erected a storm to fell a naughty ogre. I fled with the sun like a small “g” god will do when it’s found to be mortal and thus untrue. Tomorrow I’ll stride into the valley to view my art; my grotesque house of worship. © 2011 by mark prime

IT’S WIN OR DIE FOR LIBYANS IN MISRATA Permit the predator retain his grimness and the sermon’s be of truth, peace and Love, edges honed of shrapnel, thinned of pride. I must walk barefaced in front of cruelty, tremble not at its weapons. Be alive! Bravery raps at the gate. AMERICANS HOLD DIM VIEW OF U.S. ECONOMIC RECOVERY Upon this day all of beauty hasn’t been used, and is ready. The sky remains, and the lord’s of abuse gather their swords to plunge inside green reason, the heart of charity; sun, rain, quake. MAN DIES AFTER BEING SHOCKED WITH A STUN GUN Stunned and slack-jawed, death dies long before it’s prepared to leave. It catches up to all of us, lifeless flowers lodged in our gape, etching the soil with a graveness uncalled for. The eternal skied beams have cause for grief. My kind drafts his fate in delusion strapped to an empty pate. PLASTIC HEAL THYSELF: SCIENTISTS INVENT SMART POLYMERS When Alexander Parkes   fled the mortal wind, he left me bou...

( SnapShopUnlimited ) I can dance with heaven’s girl If I promise to have her home by eternity. If I touch her with ownership, I'll find life a sprint. I can more bring man to his knees than have him admit his every fault. I can hide the money in the rain barrel… but not until the floods begin. I can deserve what’s coming to me… by seeking it out. The last thing the old and brokenhearted dog gave me, before she passed, was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction of me, that, in her last moments I had given her joy. © 2011 by mark prime