Rocket in the Vase

Rocket in the vase, in my bedroom, in the dead of night. My long curtains partially open I lay popped up it is silent. I am still, is this real if not I need a transmission. I have a task I’m told in the inner ear I have to go to Mars and fast, news for earth arriving soon I must bring it back so I downsize, I uncover the rocket in a vase tiddly me climbs with a miniature ladder through the door of my rocket in the vase, the roof parts somehow woosh I am gone and beyond I go, the roof closes and the street in England is unaware.

 

Fooled By Time

How fooled by time we are, sitting watching our clocks for boredom or pleasure. Why push time away for it is precious, a concept measured and mastered in the control of history, marked and denoted by the concept and yes it is another form of control, it is only marked for the purpose of control, control of this and that and even the other, if time were but a sense it would make no sense for it just denotes episodes in fragments, large or small in recall of the mind. To make focal points, for man’s only interest is that of his survival. So time is ticking and perhaps father time is only try to make sense of what can never be so. Time makes fear, is it now running out .

Religion

Religion picks you up, then throws you away. Point north my son and look up, you will discover a better light climb the etheric staircase let energies be your host, catch the wave and feel this eternal ripple, softly beneath your fragile self.

Sunflower

I am the sunflower, I pick up your life, a sun faces to me at noon in the summertime, not sure which way to turn today. Will my head have its way, I think not my will is tested till sunset give me rest from the sun’s atomic influence.

On reflection one gathers up the night and I draw my nutrients from God’s ground I’m now silent and a little slumped forward and down, that is in the dawn upon the coming day. I will rise from slumber upward. I will move at one eighty degrees and slowly back by this day. I will give you hope. Seeds blown in nature by variant winds. I may visit you to shower you in glory, borrowed from the sun and sense through my auxiliary temporence my benevolence immersed by sunlight, power given let us praise the light.

Warrior of Poetry Poems For You Ep 2

A Thousand Romances

A thousand romances but not one is mine, I’ve searched, I’ve ducked and dived. Like a bird swooping down for insects that is us. You and I prey to everything but often caught in chaos, so floating in air love energy stays, in cotton balls blowing into our ears. It whispers forlorn bereft of home, the imaginary couplings never to be. In an empty room with a fleece upon my thinner knees and one shaft of light through a half opened door, goodnight may darling dreamers

Do I Like Decay

Do I like decay, I’m not sure, I look at my wrist. A crocodile comes to mind leather, not yet preservable, moisture not yet diet. To be someone else, sceptical. Clothes could do better imagination required a star… no they are in the sky above, in the sky motivated by the moon but I’m in bed now curtains closed, missed my turn for a gravity, job immortality, no too many dead flies.

My car windscreen in summer tells me no lies, so how does one hold it together. Difficult roused by Mondays din, water ran from my tap, the mirror tells no lies as long as I see it’s me. Do you remember what’s changed.

Chance has it my age, it appears upon the mirror I look at it bloody hell is that me oh yes my friend the secret voice to the inner temple. Literally you’ve won one more day on earth. God says the drinks are on me I’m your father your going to be a spirit, I said I’ll drink to that amen and ten bloody marys later.

My Love For Thee

How dense is my love for thee it fills a cloud on high, settling soft near a white bright golden sun, soon to evaporate your highest love. Temporary as in all wants and lusts to the unfeeling, it means nought for our fleetings in life hard to catch not so profound the meaning of this in truest sense continues in the lives of mortals in ether channels unique.

From Head Down

From the head down here we go who are you?. Asks the Alien at the panel twisting and turning at his controls glance after glance, is the conversation. Fixed upon you. We are no speech between the subjects profile. “Outreach monitoring are we, the night catchers caught average specimens tonight, great leader.” A glance is a great conversation to the inner soul I go, remodeling has begun .There is a lot to do, and I will return you to earth ground, you will work for us now you go and will come back soon with many like me of my kind and kinship…a roar like a thousand cannons then he was gone.

Melancholia

Melancholia that’s what we got all day and all night like achy dull headless beer, melancholia cos we like to talk down, its all wrong mate, do ya know I just got stuck in the groove at the slowest speed, I spin, we are stuck please clean me. So yep we can start again the time is of the up and up and every day we replay the game of life. Some winners, many more losers and so it goes on day after day.

The Autistic Guy

Yes I always believe love is soluble let’s drink to love energy and promote kindness and understanding ironically saying that, I’m trying to get them both taken into a home for their own safety it is wrong for eighty plus to live a mile down a lane with heavy need, but guess what they are using an autistic spectrum guy to have another day with the birds and other wild life. I believe when the crunch comes I will have to move to place anew.

Renter Society & Poetry Round Up

Renter Society

Let’s make it just that, but a fair rent society at that. The great division that’s what it has become the modern judgement that is based on another brought too you from those who are exploiting another for their own personal self aggrandisement, human nature is foul and devious under the cover of many respectabilities, church governments and factions of the Brit self righteous movement.

I don’t witness god calling time upon the social injustice just consecutive government waxing lyrical about social mobility another meaningless concept, what happened to residents who lived at Grenfell tower is a class war crime. An area where decent people faced the ultimate discrimination that of social housing, why can’t the mind of the putrid wealthy be annexed upon their own island far away and let the fair non discriminatory society rise and care a true renter’s social society .

The Horn

I only heard the Auric horn sounded like the time I was a Viking but implying invasion is near or nigh the horn was loud and of no mistake it was meant for me to warn you of impending change. Last week I was babbling out what could be an alien language… am I being prepared in mind if not body. I sense I feel I hope others do to take the blinkers off our slavery to mind control, which is creeping upon our minds as a deadening sticky emulsion of matter, over once clear minds. We need to find the originators and destroy them or the evil aliens may return as if though, they are already here Mason Cult must survive to tell the tale to help the sun rise

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive