Poetry from Stephen Prime

Response Ability


I would do anything

To trade places with that image

That I had in my head that I can’t write down


What I was told

What I heard

Left me speechless

And at the time words were essential

They should have been words of joy



Rejuvenation. Congratulation

Friday the 13th

We were still shouting at each other when I opened the champagne


The Immortal


The immortal is the shape of a liquid pumping around the system

A plasma blood like fluid

It is made of millions of tiny molecules and atoms

Each molecule or atom or neutron or quark level split

Is a decision made by an individual

And that decision is made by an individual

And that individual is You

And You are the immortal


But, you are not The Immortal

Because The Immortal is all of us

And all of us is the immortal

And I am crying as I write this

And listening to music

At my best friend’s house


But at the same time I am not here

I am everywhere and nowhere

I am in one place that never existed

As my body sits here

My soul and being is pumping around the system

And it is part of everybody else


But sometimes

Most of the time

I am me and

I am here

And The Immortal

Is easy to forget

As I snap around the bends and break and split

My own life’s flow

Making binary decisions of my own


Only, occasionally there comes a time


We all have to make a decision


And that time is now

We have a big choice to make

And the time to make it is already passed

The time of decisions is over

And now it is

The time

To act

You all know what I’m talking about

So forget who you are

Who you were

Or want to be

Forget all the tiny, insignificant decisions and

Focus on this one

The Immortal has to decide


The world is mine and yours And We Can Make A Difference If We Are All Immortal

And we all need to agree

Otherwise the immortal will die

And the universe as we know it

Will cease to be


The effect of there being no stars in the sky


When we look up

From under the shroud of our polluted cities

At the black, bleak, never ending void

We see nothing but the occasional gem

Of an aeroplane

Or maybe Venus


But what thoughts could that lead us to

Nothing but the cage of our own

Technological splendour

Our material domination

We can only remember stars

But we must often forget them


And as a result, we do not wander

In the open expanse of endless time and space

We do not wonder

At our own insignificance in the Grand Scheme

Of Things, we are only concerned with

We do not trifle on our trivialities

We have blocked out the stars


We have bleached and muddied the very sky

Under which we live

Obsessed with ourselves

Our own flying around the world

Our own decaying ozone

Our own polluted canvas

Our own deadly solipsism

That has caused us to live so happily

In ignorance

Of the joy and wonder of

Endless, never ending something else


Without the stars we are all trapped

To dream an empty, finite dream

A dream with walls

A view of nothing

Like an eye trapped inside the mind

Staring at the inside of the skull

Contemplating only things it can conceive of

To contemplate

Answering questions it knows the answer to

And ignoring them

So it can ask again

Repetitively repeating until

There are no more stars


Only a galaxy of regrets

And billions of burning

Screaming human souls

Moving further away from each other

In the never-ending void

The universal sigh

Expanding silently