There is an urgent need to have public works programmes, one, monorail systems on current motorways using current terminal hubs, two properly organised safe new cycle tracks Leeds for example has already seven miles worth more on the way. Three, better use of land and assisted super allotments with guided advice so interested parties can reconnect with where food comes from, of course in my opinion that is the practice of seed to product. Four, the building of properly managed social tenancies stop the persecution of decent human beings by the mortgage control monsters that lurk in all three political parties. We must stop the wrongful actions of landlords that rock family stability. Reintroduce life tenancies if the citizens are worthwhile well meaning people, good housing legislation by new European governments is essential. Let us create a better world nationalism is destructive bringing misery for millions. We must change the old stagnant ways of the past, only a united Europe with Britain playing it’s part in it can work. We owe this much especially to the struggling. the young and the frightened elderly the disabled and weak among us. Let Europe unite for a better more equal world.
Good GRACIOUS YET MORE POETIC WRITINGS
The Day The Wind Spoke
The day the wind spoke, stillness availed walking in the ancient Turkers Wood, majesty arose to the heights among older trees. They were reaching the end of the growing more than a hundred years had gone by, accumulating in one hundred feet or more tired were they but still standing.
There came a whisper upon the breeze that grew over a lonely morning but only I would be the recipient of this message, as air blew faster and seemed to whip in and out weaving for at least a half mile, a musical pitch came to me a varied in tune it seemed to say the trees were under threat and would soon be gone and I must tell someone, I must save them. Boc Hondo and the Devic kingdom must gather we must save Turkers Wood, all past life and all present must unite.
Upon the river bank in the manner of the bard
Th’re wast upon the riv’r bank a pile of soil transmut’d if ‘t be true thee wouldst indulge me, into a heapeth of emotion laying within. T wast a warmeth day and the travelling lamp did beat down something inside did want to breaketh out of the soil, t vibrat’d and did tremble across the riv’r wide and ranneth at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white lily hath moved into the riv’rbank all high-lone and bobbing, t suddenly did turn upside down and expos’d t’s delicate roots searching f’r a new life, t struggl’d a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dryeth did crack soil, f’r inside new life wast waiting and a voice from above bellow’d “tell those in the silv’r cautel we has’t new life. ” as the riv’r hath carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life wast b’rn
There was upon the river bank a pile of soil transmuted if you would indulge me, into a heap of emotion laying within. It was a warm day and the sun beat down something inside wanted to break out of the soil, it vibrated and trembled across the river wide and ran at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white Lily moved into the riverbank all alone and bobbing, it suddenly turned upside down and exposed it’s delicate roots searching for a new life, it struggled a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dry cracked soil, for inside new life was waiting and a voice from above bellowed “tell those in the silver craft we have new life.” as the river carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life was born.
The fast lane for those with aspergers
The fast lane of the prototypical, a topic no-one will understand they brush past the sensitive souls they grab and get anything in their way heavily influenced by media, from house shopping and politics they strive and tread on anything or anyone in the march to the grave.
It is as if the prototypical have something missing they cannot hear or see gentle components in life to them everything is for the taking under the cover of the virtue signal, but remember it is always said where there is no sense there is no feeling everything the prototypical does walks over, destroys de-values and makes the lives of the neuro diverse sheer hell in this case the receivers of this hell are those who have Asperger’s Syndrome.
Behind the veil
Behind the veil of the alien, the bewildered child, the new creation. The fear, the blackness of an ocean. An oracle in time the birth born but abandoned at the same time. The fear rooted in the beginning when there was nothing, black eyes began to fill with colour this became life and light. Sight, hearing, senses and smells crisp and fresh then you were given the power to talk and yes of course to walk amongst us and there are many more of you they are for all the tomorrow’s and then some, which by decree may never come for your host the earth has many limitations for you and only those that fly are free from the sea we come dropped as matter upon the beaches waiting for a side reel through the ether. Beest of lighteth anon new being who is’t is thou o l’rd we knoweth not, as the Bard sayeth.