CONFESSION ZERO

My voice can serve a grander purpose! Love. Feed the hungry, clothe the exposed, give dwelling to the homeless, help the sick and dying and commune with the living spirit(s) or my voice can merely be self-seeking and fall away as if the words never pursed my lips. Prayers, to me, aren’t merely verbalized, they're acted upon by my own works of compassion, and, if they are not acted upon, they cannot soar and are nothing more than vacant words. If I give my voice to the multitude of the deprived and downtrodden, there’s more Love in it. Give my voice to action, don’t allow it to be self-interested or have anything to be gained from it other than the call of my selfless duty, my obligation to help my fellow brothers and sisters. Do this and goodness will surely follow. It will follow that which is given, given without regard to what any group or particular ego might imagine that it knows. I cannot know. I can...

( 300 Bikers Foil Westboro Baptist ) Rev the engines! Curse and scream! The world needn't any more hate, none that wraps arms around death, slips the nuthouse into heaven, then bleeds itself into the church of man. It’s evident in the orange night sky, visible in the night’s chandeliers, swaying from what they’ve seen, from what they now witness. Stars aren't blind, save for their past and future sufferings. They see troubles on eartH for it is Heaven. A prayer? A curse? Or could it be word; reflection, nightmares and dreams, pushing forth their breathless story of fire, brimming with the dank cloth of certainty, spitting out heirlooms of teeth and bone as dust? Knowledge is blind. It’s unaware of its own girth as it packs up supplies for the next fresh hunt. The pursuit of Love, for the creator of all things, and the search for that which my flesh can never know. Let love be my God! Allow my eyes to see what’s before them. Bring my senses around to remembering where ...

(Moon Night Sky from  Layout Sparks.com ) If I still have my Love I’ll not have wasted my belief after wars have broken through the stars like thieves. I’ll not have wasted my belief on words, I’ll have found love through my willing hands. That’s what I started by propping up my storm in the midst of Love which gives without asking for anything in return, that which delivers my thoughts and dreams without restraint, my pleas without want, without instruction, without the harness of murder, rape and god-fouled war. Through my hands, through my heart, through Love, I must still believe enough to wrestle deceit to its knees and embrace the Spirit of Love that’s within arms reach. Oh! Reach out! They are there! Reach out! Let them nestle their imperceptible wings into your spleen, cuddle up inside of the fearful belly and dream. © 2011 by mark prime

( Conscious Life News ) ( Andrew Forrest’s Art ) ~ Letter from Senator Boozman ~ Dear Mr. Prime, Thank you for contacting me regarding your thoughts on mercury emissions. It is good to hear from you. As you know, Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) proposed a rule relating to emission standards at cement manufacturing plants. Specifically, EPA's rule pertains to the amount of mercury plants can release during manufacturing. While this proposal has proven to be quite contentious due to the devastating effects it would have on American jobs, I appreciate your view that the benefits outweigh the costs. My concern is that when American industries are closed due to excessive regulations, those jobs are replaced by foreign corporations that often do more environmental damage than their American competitors. China is already the largest producer of mercury emissions, and atmospheric transportation carries much of this pollution to the United States. As a member of the ...

(Portrait from Lazarus Speaks ) All of the cities are ablaze with celebration. The ragged and homeless Saint Labre nods as I, the inflexible spectator, look sideways to avoid his tattered gaze of expectation. The streets of the world still come alive at sundown, laugh and laugh and circle round and round without a care or vital thought piercing the ragged spirit. The tables are set, no time for regret. The lawns are cut, no time for rain. The streets are full, no time for silence. The children are dead, no time for pain. Parents of this racket wail their consent with their indifference to murderous war. I've the blood of children on my hands and must put an end to murder evermore or the ground will certainly swallow me up and the sky will collapse upon the reception. Prospering from murder, greed and deception will relinquish my solemn vow with creation. I declare to you that these things I do no...

( Love is the Best Way  via Concentric Clothing ) M any lifetimes ago you and I held hands. I let go first that I might come around again. C reation’s been waiting a long time for Love; H ope now holding for hope, lips pursed upon joy, E ach affection kissing creation’s lovely neck, L oving smiles upon your waiting self. L et me enter your kingdom, your arms of Love, E very lifetime, not just the one we know… I am humbled by your grace, your undying smile L eaving me breathless with an undeserved joy. O f destiny, of Love, of joy, with an exactness V ibrating noiselessly without end or question, E ven as you yearned for my return to Love. Y ou proved yourself a healer with your remedy O f acceptance permeating without deliberation U ntil I journeyed back to you, howling of belief. © 2011 by mark prime

Egyptian Pyramids Found With NASA Satellite As many as 17 pyramids, more than 1,000 tombs and 3,000 settlements were uncovered using infrared technology.  Archaeologists have uncovered as many as 17 buried pyramids in Egypt with the help of NASA satellite imagery, according to a documentary to be aired by the BBC on Monday. The sand is old. The crypts number one thousand. The imagery is new. Scores of pyramid and settlement covered by shameless flood or time’s scratching wind. They reappeared the same way they vanished, devotion. Technology’s come a long way, but what of me? Have I grown, or shrank of my plan like a coward? From beneath the ascending stone I have risen, yet not high enough for dreaming of time without end. Clocks tick like time bombs above the granite vaults that are used to conceal such shame, my love’s dullness. Nature will lay to rest all the eyesores built upon the (H)eartH with the same swiftness as my flight from pea...