Category: Social Issues

Xmas Poetry & Audio Poems Ep 1.

Audio Poems

Tramps are everywhere…
Hurried Stuff, mother is in the living room.
It’s Grim Up North

A Time.

A time when nothing is in your hands, manipulation occurs, from another source. It comes to visit by surprise it does so in doses to convince you literally your mind is not your own wait. And you will feel them sleep, then see forever.

Boys Who Were Kings

Boys who were kings at ten, now sit on their own, when they were old and grey cobwebs were spun around the stiffness as the chair rocked to and fro a long nose of nobility hit the shadows, the lightbulb swung. A shadow in the gap where once burned a fire in the once living hub of familial energy, a forefinger raised still above the right chair. Arm pointing, but the direction has gone. A figure walks past the glassless window a cool white full moon is helping the voice shouts out “anyone at home” “silence man, the king is dead close the door”. All reposed nothing to report

Hurried Stuff

Hurried stuff dark rainy day strained brain sat on me Todd watching a wheeze of a sixties slice of life semi biopic of the cultural time now gone it is but madness Norman Bates is here mother are you alive or dead no it is a slipper behind the door , where is mother she is but with axe ready in the front room still watching soaps whilst I’m still in a lather looking for an open door

I Am The Dark Alien, You Wake Up, It Is The Times

The thing came it stuck itself to the window, I knew not how, but it came. It wanted to snatch me I knew by the anger in its eyes it, “I’ll go when I get what I want.” it hissed. Yes this is a horror movie it would come on a full moon, fathoming the phantom is hard to do. “I’m gonna scare the shit out of the world but first.” it said, I’m going to scare the shell out of you, by the way it’s December I’ve got to rob Santa next I’m a monster, not a charity, fear the vibrations for I am the dark Alien.”

You Wake Up

You wake up now sunshine, the dream is over silver ships have gone in a  blink of waking eyes. It’s just another day at least that is what I thought. This day passed no twists or turns yet, no friend had been told, as I was none too bold already. On the verge of insanity, I thought that not wise plenty of people had been taken away. For verily in my dreams I saw the incubators room after room, cubits of warmers in the pyramid terraces. Incumbents of mysterious enslavement the perfect square you could be altered to disguise and decisive is the aliens journey in the energy centre of time.

It Is The Times

It is the times we now exist in and I know why, where was this day heading over the hill I expect . A group of the others were talking about last night I had told them wrong or right about my dream.  I told the gathering it was over and that they (those in the sky ) had been testing us ( the human race ) samples of us is to analyise where we were up to in evolutionary terms and the time of the crossroads had not arrived.

The group jiggled and haggled in conversation a conclusion was not possible anyhow this tiny group upon the hill didn’t believe a word of what I had told them. I parted and shouted to them “which one of you is going to dream of silver disc ships tonight”. The group replied “not me, not me,” in succession until the last one, “see ya” I shouted and with that said they all ventured to whatever they called home. .

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.

Mason Cult Calls For A Revolution In Housing

The revolution must come from the hearts and minds of the ones at the bottom, not from the perceived top e.g. the conduits to power the political classes. Far too often those of us in adversity feel so powerless even more so now that hardcore socialism appears to be so diluted as not to exist.

The first mortgage usually kills that one , but it is deeper than that, council housing properly managed would be a great achievement especially when it has been so derided by all three political parties as non ambitious, this boils down in many ways to media and government propaganda. The unwillingness to build family sized council homes and any acknowledgement that this way of living is all millions can afford.

Many more may just want that community feeling back succession of tenure and much more to build a stable life . With consecutive administrations stratification of humans has been all followed by perceived social mobility with divisiveness at its heart that is morally wrong.

There is too much false want that takes up too much of humanities good bits and leaves the rest in tatters the money needs taking out of politics and some principle heart put back in to serve the people would be a good start followed by a systematic study of how real family housing with adequate space for families can be implemented.

Not more boxes in the sky and cramped flat blocks but as yet this has not happened and the problems multiply every minute of every day. Therefore, true socialist people should come forward as of now and end the dictatorship of Johnson, who is using the pandemic as a cover for initiating hidden brutal policies that will take the right of the less fortunate to exist, with multiple slave labour zero hours contracts dodgy tenancies, bad landlords and community controls to manage what he believes to be a herd of dissent they are all scroungers even those of the North who voted tory, it is they who have also been conned.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive