CONFESSION ZERO

( Gemstone Lights.Com ) You thank your god? You thank your god for life, why not thank Love? She’ll be here long after we’ve scrounged her reaches of enough life to sustain her and her alone. Our kind, omitted like a faulty wire, starting the fire that sang her praises. The earth would be Love’s life, that she would produce her fruit for our tongues, her water for our mouths that stand agape at her might and that her stars, her children, shall not needlessly die… Her rage and sorrow pours forth like broken clouds, awakening to the things of legend, sending truth to cleanse the earth; to join the rumble of a thunderous bass, the ricochet of chords and rattle of percussion… The electricity can’t fly fast enough! Love holds the lightening, we hold the storm. © 2011 by mark prime

( Empowered by Angels - Divine Light Within ) The air rises to greet my lips in solitude then blows away as soon as it loved me. On to the next green field, to the next warm “hello” pursed upon a strangers lips, foreign to you, these lips without hatred, without lust, without greed, without thankless emotions that betray her sovereignty. From Love’s ears to a stranger’s lips, let this maddened sea fade away and worship the sea, land, sky, ground, soil, plants and trees- the cello busts a string, but we don’t miss a beat- Love! Love! Love, forests, mountains, the children’s innocence! Their blameless frames we shaped with our fists, our wars and our greed. We scorched a frontier within in an inch of her life, innocence seems to rise, not fall with age. She ascends, her strings vibrating Love for me. Yes? I think I said. What would you have me say to the most beautiful angel, eartH and Love ever dreamed by man. A trilogy that rings an unfamiliar bell, there for all to read: W

( Tree Art from Spoken Stories ) Chapter One: The legend’s tumbling from out of our prideful mouths have become stale and Loveless. The tales are no longer able to stand without quaking, dance without falling or Love without failing. It’s the grand Love we’ve need of remembering. Chapter Two: The legend’s tumbling from out of our prideful mouths have become stale and Loveless. The tales are no longer able to stand without quaking, dance without falling or Love without failing. It’s the grand Love we’ve need of remembering. Chapter Three: The… © 2011 by mark prime

(Art, Eternity 1 , from Razzberry Press ) Don’t drop me off at the curb, cut me some slack-jawed slack and bring my mushrooming memory along for the ride. Hold her fast that she might not embrace the tree with her death, but her Love. (Her spirit’s been looking for mine for a very long time.) Shhh… She dances. The message is clear: "Sneer at her dance! We are the inheritors of her; it is we whom she owes a great deal! We worship her, do we not? That’s worth something in return! And what of our work? We can use her as we see fit, there’s no deed of sale!" Tomorrow and tomorrow… Bring me back to where I’ve always been. I’ll stay this time… Yes. I will. I’ll put up a tent and live for eternity loving you. © 2011 by mark prime

http://nart.rivendel.nu/reizen/indonesia/Indo_2003/Jateng/Sriwedari/Wayang.htm November one: The air is tightening in the wind, woven of the rainbow, fluid, purposeful. I remember... November one twenty-eleven: woke up with a start, familiar fangs whispering my name, Love ready to emerge in her gown of flowers, her slippers of Love and her crown of thorns, an imperfect perfection. I remember... III: But how can this be, a gown of flowers and a crown of thorns? Could it be that imperfection is the most overlooked perfection? III II: Might we merely be cogs in the machinations of man, assembly lines to the dumping ground of noise; cart loads of loveless human flesh stomping by without so much as a hug, men and women, zombies trudging another along a mirrored fate? I remember... November one. © 2011 by mark prime

( Earth Loving from The Eco-Goddess Temple ) The witch’s brooms were seen gliding the perimeter of heaven. His and hers, a matching pair, equal through and through, enough to pass for siblings carved of the eartH’s flesh, stars for eyes, bark for skin, feet of moons and hands of Love… Frankenstein trudged the lab as his monster slept. Tick tock goes the clock. Tick tock goes the clock. Tick tock... Wake-up, giant! It’s time to make good on your promise, Love… Superman and Superwoman gazed upon the living circus and found their souls showing them naked, to her wearing their only skins. Up came Love from within, at that eternal step just beneath their feet, she motions to them, Love... Man and woman lectured the beast and spilled her drink, one by one, two by two, all the way to truth, of which there’s only one, until they found themselves face to beautiful face, flesh to flesh, bone to bone, hate for hate and Love for Love... I prayed for her Love. I beseeched the moon to