Showing posts from September 18, 2016


(Why don't you believe in Hell?)

What's to believe in?

[Answering a question with a question gives me more time to think of an answer that makes more sense than the question itself.]

(You're insane! Hell is real, God created it for Lucifer!)

That's why YOU believe in Hell, but I have no reason to believe in something that is unGodly.

(You believe in Heaven, right?)


(Then you must believe in Hell.)

That makes little sense.

(How so?)

Do you believe that there is only one truth?


And what do you call this One Truth?


Then by your own logic God is the only thing that exists.

(And what God created.)

Why would God create a Hell of eternal damnation?

(To punish those that do not believe in Him.)

And what purpose could an eternal agony possibly serve?

(As a lesson.)

Never ending agony cannot be a lesson, it can only serve as punishment without end.

(That IS the lesson!)

No. That's insanity.

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


Love moves far too many strings
like truths that only lies can bring.
Tumbling in after the other like acrobats,
reaching out by memory to catch the other.

The night sounds are in a harmony,
answers from a call made long ago in the dark.

Dance with one another.
Cherish the whole collection.
Tote their shadows loosely, without expectation,
and let the world heal before the strings grow barbs and reflect something altogether different.



© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


It doesn't have to be a nightmare
Grown down in our life's story
Fear holding tight like a noose
The more we pull, the less we breathe

Cut the garrote, set death free
That was long ago, needn't remember
By our memorizing it, it will repeat
Too much in the past, it can't last

We've lost our minds to vile power
Time to regroup and create a now
A present toward a history of love
An echo come round without strings

A recall that has no grip on our necks
But a now that enlivens our spirits
That saves us from our ignorance
That smiles on us in the brave echo

It doesn't have to be a nightmare
Unless we create it for ourselves
Set yourself free and join the whole
A life worth singing, so rise with me

Rise as One love and One peace
No division, no suffocation, be done
Strength's found in great numbers
And none more so than One


© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


Love is not merely an emotion
It is an indestructible force
A thing that never truly dies
A constant of life's very core

Love knows no boundaries
Wall's cannot hold it away
No continent goes without it
No idea can destroy its sway

Love's the true beginning
Lifting stars to their throne
Aligning the profound mystery
Of all things we've ever known

It can be made to be ugly
Even overshadowed by war
And misplaced by man's ire
But Love itself is evermore

Our own use of it may be finite
But within our story it's eternal
The building block of all things
The verve of nature's pull

Some misplace it in their hurry
Or displace its pulsing start
Yet none have eradicated it
Or torn it from the heart

Love calls to our better selves
It evolves within as itself rising
Oh! Had we but Love's fealty
We'd never kill another thing


© 2016 Mark Richard Prime

Q & A

Q: What should I teach my children in order for them to know Peace on (H)eartH in their lifetime?

A: Peace isn't taught, it's remembered.

Q: Then my children will never know Peace.

A: Do your children learn of their memories?

Q: No, like everyone else, they recall them.

A: Then Peace must be a memory.

Q: But if they've never known Peace how can it possibly be in their memory?

A: By going back.

Q: Back to where?

A: Before their birth.

Q: Nobody can do that!

A: Then Peace is a thought as well as an event that is recalled.

Q: That's the definition of a memory!

A: And also the answer to your question.

Q: We're right back to where we started!

A: Exactly.

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


Upon the night's curve of your back I conduct a symphony, a crescendo clutching tightly to our union, like a coupling of train cars comprised of deep kisses, truth rumbling their echo.

She and I grip the tracks that lay next to one another, like two animals entangled, waiting on the whistle to shake them free, yet, somehow, we glimpse one another, our arms acting as brakes holding us upright many years from now.

Isn't this our vow, to have and to hold, until something gives way? We are the trestle of a bridge that beckons us to remain upright, sweat covering the bright steel like a mist blanketing the rising sun.

Now, she urgently whispers, now!

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime