POEMS GALORE FOR OUR ARCHIVE !!!

Visitor

Early one particular morning while exiting an outside toilet facility of old, our poetic warrior became caught up in a moment. He turned to his left and whilst doing so he became caught in an instant. His body became charged and locked rigid as if by magic a brown figure materialised for a fraction of a second this figure, not of humankind and no face appeared and frightened the Warrior of Poetry, his body electrified for split earth second. There are many more of us this was the inception for the briefest of moments. This was a visitor in time, but from what time I ask…

Alienisation

Alienisation of earth, even with the cosmic brakes applied we reach our end. No consideration was offered for our existence no rhyme nor reason. Gunned down to the last were we the Alien amongst us had they picked the time and the place, had earth in cumulative successive historical wars proved that so-called humans had an image trait to hate one another, and from the master’s point of view we should not be allowed to go further. Indeed the experiment was over the buck stops here on violent earth. Other outer worlds had faired better with higher beings able to control any bad variable in their models. We will have warnings of our terminal time and all those considered for other worlds anew will be taken on board by awaiting shuttlecraft to motherships in the higher atmosphere.

Yet More Poems For Our Fab Archive

In With The Soup

In with the soup and into the sea, we will one day dissolve and nothing will we be, in and out with eternal universal tide stretching and reversing. Rolling on and off uninhabited beaches. All a sound of itself to no-one else does it bother the language. Is sound and frequency with Auric Horns grey and weathered now and to themselves they answer, we are gone.

If I…

If I conquer my fears when the time is nigh, I might get through whilst sat on a stone here upon dying earth, now baking in the final years, each country now closing and dying by trapped heat for decades so called man did not see or sense the damage. But you must know by now that without feeling there is no sense to speak of. I was promised by a tall wandering stranger that I would reach final destination if I remained on this stone. Hot by day freezing by night it is lonely but I will wait .

The Toffee Hammer People

Revenge of the pixie toffee hammer people and the gang of smalls. There existed in a small woodland cottage surrounded by dense trees a group of Devic warriors that you could not really see. They were noisy with a tiny cackle, but what was aided would be nonsense to most if a woodland hunter slithered by in the moonlight. The silly sounds could be heard along with mouse and owl and other things .The Pixie toffee hammer people would often borrow a toffee hammer from the elderly ones who resided in the cottage, for so many years now and never realised the hammer vanished at times. The toffee hammer people would proceed to an unusual farm to procure small eggs from bantam hens then they would wisp back near the cottage, ignite one of their tiny fires crack and cook the eggs share the food. The toffee hammer was returned to a bowl in the cottage and no-one would be any the wiser for what was never seen The pixie toffee hammer people would then go and snore in the greenhouse.

The Alien Seeds

The Alien seeds absorbed into the souls of my feet, perfectly. With that I began to change it is as if I began to secretly grow a second skin, a form of replication with altered mind potential, ,talking was less essential and was effort for many tasks. It was if I was now posted by a higher energy in the midst of this subtle change. I was embedded with a time to meet in the wood, with the scout education vessel low and humming in the dead of night. No moon was visible just small green pulse lights there was no door so I was drawn into this craft almost absorbed.

THE ALIEN CONVOY

Sat down in the wood a parting through the trees I look up, I see high above pepperpot puffy clouds pulsing I realize that these are not clouds but alien convoy craft mimicking cloud it took me a while to realize. I felt fear for the sheer size of the convoy was mesmerizing I felt a tingle in every part so high were they, ready to surge outside the atmosphere of this planet it felt all for me. It was only for me, I thought as if no one else had seen this. This thought had existed for some time now every day alive when looking up it had produced a connection with what I had seen high above and occasionally below apparent clouds. Drifting but some shapes clearly seemed to hold more significance than others. But on this day sat between the trees in Turkers Wood I had noted that Alien Craft had been lingering in the atmospheric parking lot above, and it was not just naturally occurring cloud form. Was I now to be from this day hunted or left alone a partial fear struck. So overbearing would this fear become that I felt alone in a world that does not see.

A ROUND UP OF POETRY FOR OUR FAB ARCHIVE

The Doctor

The surreal grip of the doctor is upon us autocratic viral cloning the government of masonic scientists rules with their books behind them. It is true, who knew, masks are nearly over now, one hundred and twenty-eight thousand dead. Surreal is the word jab, jab, jab, the leader speaks from his podium and the twitchy professor wriggles in conscious dysfunction with no wit to speak of. But in the meantime more make-up, please. Stop the flags we are all one world flags are woke and war and more death are to come has nothing been learned by president Boris of Britain.

Empty Head Space

Empty headspace for the cosmic child to emerge blank as I thought it was, let it in many compartments flow as planned, no conformity in here others could not understand, they would say why can’t you be like the rest of us you are not on this planet they would say and why are you all alone every day. But I was soaking up all the messages from another world deep into my mind from other planets also and it came and lodged like a computer room with only me in it walking around inside my own mind. Many rooms I walked and eventually the roof of my mind where the metaphorical door existed from whence I opened the door and took a flight to my ship along with my earth knowledge which I gave to my master.

Old Lace Pavlova

Arsenic and old lace, the pavlova is sweeter today I don’t know why. Mother it is for you do be balanced and drink this wine shaken, not stirred as I walk in the knowledge that I may not be your son, for father is gone and you never told me. I have just driven around in confusion under these clouds I vowed from a travelling car to grow and yes dear boy these are your relatives enjoy, your a monster shaking your hands, where is the love I ask myself. For my mind is on a stick saved from the ravages of time stored in its own world abandoned by walking or talking bereft of connection in suspension, is it becoming a conduit entity not worn down by wind and rain but pristine white now, devoid of sin from my former adventures in the limited time I now am I reach into forever which will never end in energy eternal.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive