The Secret Alien explains the dysmorphia of my mind my earth years are as of now 62 years and confusing to say the least vagueness and constant division masks me. I hide, I slip through I don’t fit in I’m starred at, I know I’m different apart from this world. I stride, I can sit. My mind opens, different rooms and distant landscapes, far from earth it tells me I am not much longer on earth. I am prepared I have much to report on the way back to Venus and the alien control room which monitors what is left of earth’s future trajectory once I am home will be deconstructed. I will serve again but in the meantime I await the arrival of one of the Adepts who will question me regarding my mission for I and he are the brotherhood of the sun a message from afar to the people of earth, and upon my home planet we pay homage to seven shining globes within a central sun an energy mirage seen over the horizon touching bobbing upon the horizon, on top of the global arc in a distant shimmering sea I think of other worlds. I live for hope we will see in whatever level of the conscious we arise upon the day for we are secret aliens and we are stranded.
Roswell THE UNTOLD STORY
In 1947 most humans became aware of The Roswell incident and the controversy and opinions that have lasted to this day but something major had evaded notice two UFO craft had escaped. The missing craft had gone from the country of America and headed for the cold chill of The Highlands of Scotland for an agreement had been upheld. Today there lies a small farm in the middle of a Highland forest not known by many but in modern terms is a bed and breakfast destination for the few who have reclusive desires especially in a snow covered winters Cape. Jim McConnell’s son Glen had been embedded with knowledge from his late father of a tall adept figure dressed in white who approached his father post Roswell for some place quiet enough to endure a life secret that had to be kept forever. Two UFO craft were to be stored in McConnell Seniors barn covered in annual hay feed for livestock kept in the perfect cover of a domestic Highland smallholding. The cosmic Adept from time to time would reinforce successive farm generations of this secret never to be told and there would be consequences if any of the story were to be told, this was to become logged within the cosmic plan as an agreement and yet that agreement would be broken by what are media calls little green men, who on the night in question landed in the Highlands to recover the lost UFOs in a barn and the adept was expecting them…
IS JESUS AN ALIEN THE LATEST AUDIO POEM
A BEAST OF THE FOREST
A dark mood overtook Mason Cult in Turkers Wood today, Mason had been in the wood since mid afternoon burning some misbegotten dead monkey puzzle tree, the sky was restless and random interspersed with fork lightening. There is a track that divides Turkers wood into a far more dense area of the wood Mason and his outcast assistants decided to vacate the wood at approximately 7.15 PM, thunder continued its fearful might transmuted to the ground in powerful bolts of lightening, that appeared to disturb the very ground itself. Mason turned near his micro mobile and faced the wood, there was banging near and in the wood an angry roar was heard, horrible noises could be heard. The groan of a man beast angry could be heard we had annoyed the black presence within the forest it roared so angry this happens with Turkers wood regularly I have to tell you this is the beast that occupies Turkers wood a man beast on the prowl.
SOME AMAZING POEMS ON THIS WEEKS ROUND UP
I Watched The World Go By
I watch the world go by in negative longer than I should, it’s a deep state of mind the colour can be a burnout. The marvellous gift we now ignore as humans wanting more excitement against the constraints. I think in my long contemplations why a human pretends to be complicated who was the engineer that messed with our minds and so right back to colour I go for a split second, alas my mind is grabbed by melancholy and I am in negative.
Is It A Cross
Is it a cross or a new junction we seek the cross is bringing pain in the name of it, there is now death and hatred what are we to do. We cannot sanction ourselves to kill in the name of the Lord there must be a corner to turn. Maybe we should ditch the evil in the opium that is religion, if you can stand outside the all of it. Maybe we are just mortally free morality is but a word with silence you can start again, maybe scientists are now gods and the cross rather confusing. So yesterday’s news remains in the dark a scene of yesterday’s derelict ruins with spiders crawling like unknown faces of the past, personally I’m seeking a new vision from the cities in the clouds and white mountains that proliferate around, its looks so pure compared to our bloody delusions in the earth below.
The Snapping Foxes
The snapping foxes , one early morning I was taking the air upon a track within the grounds of what I perceived to be a stately home. Coming toward me a thin man holding many of what appeared to be small dogs. I moved toward the long hedgerow a tiny black shape separated from the pack and proceeded to jump, it fixed it’s tiny jaws onto my forefinger tip and wouldn’t let go. The dog walkers shouted across to me and told me in an educated tone “sir do not be alarmed for these are the snapping alien foxes sent from a craft that has landed in the Forest they are kept by our alien masters to discipline earth when we take over” I must go I have to transfer to myself.
The Boy Who Catches Flies
The boy who catches flies I saw him once, he stopped the crowd in an instant. In the foyer the bustle of a municipal building for no other reason than it happed his arm was raised the thumb and forefinger gently took purchase of the wingtip of this fly, he gazed directly to the fly it was understood that the fly is part of us all the boy looked up and released the fly, it was if the world stopped for that moment, many stood still it showed God’s creations are aware of each other and in peace we understand all of the creators work.