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New & Untouched... (Head-Lines)


Space Station Alert as Debris Makes 250 Meter Near miss
820 feet may not feel intimately close, but when it’s just you and a few comrades (and multiple tons of floating metal) you’re going to need help, to comfort the seen and unseen turmoil that is yours to bear. Thus it is up to us, we must champion the cause; our survival.

Coffee May Ward Off Alzheimer’s
Something to stave off even worse things than some creeping subliminal death, only to then act as if it doesn’t matter yet regret the reaping of what I alone have sown…

New, Untouched Tribe Discovered in Amazon
Unscathed and upon my knees… Unhurt by the incessant flap of my lips. Unharmed by my foul use of her soil, yet, not untouched…

Gadhafi could face rape charges, international prosecutor says
Rape, murder, fraud, neglect. It’s already done my friends. What my animal wants in the flesh has begun to deliciously feast upon my soul.

© 2011 by mark prime

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ROOT OF

"For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs." __1 Timothy 6:10 It is MONEY, not the LOVE of it that is the issue, the true problem. Love, in and of itself, is never a problem, WANT and NEED, or better yet- the WANT and the conundrum of its very REQUIREMENT for our survival IS the problem, it's creation and our blind use of it is logically the ROOT. In other words, let's leave LOVE out of it altogether and deal with the facts instead. If money were not made by us as a requirement for our survival, we'd find ourselves in a much better position to argue of its need and our want of it. MRP Peace and Love © 2015 Mark Richard Prime
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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