Poems & yet more poems from the poetic warrior

Fear of the Hour.

Fear over rules as it does, fear of the second, fear of the minute, fear of the hour, fear of this day and unknown fear of our mortality and the place it has in our very own hearts. Mind the future of thought, as it diminishes. as we become less thoughtless and more contemplative of this very nature. Within man the animal. We are part of it all in various degrees who gave us emotions to hard to handle that lead us to the silence of a stoic path and all its miserable nature.

Exodus

Exodus to the planets through the pilots of kundalini, you know you must go and soon is that day of exit from ever troubled earth, so locked in rotating demise in a poised atomic state we cannot warn you as our minds have run out of care aptitude.

We have an odd angle of approach and must catch the trajectory of corrections or we the adepts will be trapped also and this implicates upon our now weary ability to set down and create other life on other planets of greater potential than your troubled earth.

We will in but a few days form a circle, all seven of us in the middle of this energy we will bring our measured breathing to bare. The serpent will wrap around our very souls from the centric crescent moon of wisdom. This serpent will climb curling to the heart centre emanation it will be the crown chakra, our band of warmth will kiss over the brows upon our foreheads, we will leave our earth bodies and on we go to get to our new bodies upon a new planet of sanctuary and relief we now are ready let us go Exodus has arrived.

Gordon Oh My Gordon

Oh the Brown model, God chancellor again missing the point, write off the debt of the suffering thousand they didn’t ask you for Covid 19 and they did not ask for basic dental health plans post pandemic, that is the start of NHS dentistry crumbling not free for the poor at the point of need. We can almost see the rollercoaster of privatisation gathering speed sneaky Tory time again “never mind lad they’re not working class now” said a Tory MP in the Commons bar during trebles all round. they should be pleased to pay, watch this space says Warrior of Poetry.

OH MY MORE POEMS FROM THE WARRIOR OF PROSE

Is religion owned by an elite or is religion for everyone that is a very difficult proposition indeed throughout the world, religion ready to take the strays at the door who are, weary of the economic trouble and that is easy, but not always obvious that contro is the hidden hand and not self will. It is therefore desperation and control in the locality within towns and cities, but you wouldn’t call this unbiased nor uncooperative with government agencies, who always will gladly say this is good statistically. Some religious groups might say God is everywhere as long as you are with us. A double stream of government and religion for the poor, who by the millions have lost the way and are now controlled by one state machine or another.

The Silence of Space

The silence of space is discovered, is it death are we all out there beyond, now gone from sure footings upon former terra earth. In a new realm, a new lifestream in a holding station for programming. I’ve heard that we all have to stay within this craft for God to arrive I have to say I don’t like waiting.

Stop

Stop my DNA from floating away, for it will be lost in confusion amongst none purities of wider humanity. We are so mixed up our boundaries now gone, we know one another now in every country and continent aware there is not much that separates us by greedy mens hands only we are expected to fight for false beliefs. But we are getting wise we are coming together slowly and in a million more years we will find the harmonious one and the ultimate kindnesses in a world as one under God’s all seeing eye .

A Box

A box of photos but would it save lives. Disturbing was the day, the hour, the week, the year and then the years I had run out of ideas to form a number of people struggling with behaviours of unknown quantities. Panic had set in I had a set of old family photos and slides spanning many generations upon me and thought I will give this to some troubled relatives motivation and energies change them from an almost troubled demonic cycle, that in desperation was leading to no man’s land. Well this musty collection was drying out in a warm home and incremental viewing took place. I wouldn’t put my hand upon heart and say a miracle ensued for that would be a falsity for sure, but when a troubled person discovers a family link that has potentials of change for the light. I do hope we live for hope for all forever.

Warrior of poetry has been at it again writing poems

Where Greed Never Sleeps

A world that is breaking down, the habit of tears an emotional pump is constantly whirring. But is this the way I suggest it is not, for what does this achieve what really does it change if we are seeking the attention that these tears bring.

Are we less than plausible if too many years and too many tears like rain enter the human psyche, forever responding to situations from this foundation is there a better route to achieve harmony maybe the media requires treatment, maybe they should not pedal politicians as they do, for the machine that drives human affairs make them not know what they do.

I say is why they do this part of the multilayered empire that makes money from every conceived happening and every other device to divide and rule pigeon holing the poor and misunderstood with every facet of the wicked and thoroughly evil British class system that debases humanity and the hopes of millions of kind hearted but neglected humans I say we are a disgusting country where greed never sleeps.

The Mighty Boc Hondo

Wired up and fit as fiddles they march out of the cupboards and back doors they came like rats over a fence they jumped, we couldn’t really see them and probably we were not meant to but I could, I was trained I knew what these things did but I would not tell a soul we would not be here without them. But I know in these times of insincerity and cruelty who would believe the work of the devic Kingdom and their impervious leader of great credulity The mighty Boc Hondo

a collection of poems from the warrior…

Deserted Beaches

A side reel of fire that is the matter deposited upon earth’s deserted beaches. In the silence of thousands of desolate nights under a myriad of stars, guiding and benevolent moon lights of the sandy weaving coastlines. There is no-one yet to hear the auld pulse of crashing waves into stubborn rockfaces. But in the coves and caves tiny fires are now seen and shapes within shadows. New life is forming around fires, naked and hairy for now. But forms from the matter are bursting forth ready for the inward march under thousands of sun mornings.

Gods Return To The Sun.

God’s return to the sun within. Simple it is, all life molten drops of energy that we cannot touch we only harvest the rays that lift us to our feet every day. Alive with the absolute in dilution breaking past the seal of limitation that halts our burning and nurtures crops to harvest and eat for the simplicity of life and faith.

Particles

Particles in the pipeline I shone my torch down a length of pipe the light captured the particles within I have no doubt the particles will posses the nuclei for another life by the time the end of this tunnel is reached I may even suggest that whilst they are spinning in this swirl another life will emerge upon their exit to an awaiting galaxy the new world my friends.

Too late too old

Too late too old not to dismiss faith fate is outside our worldly realm of being for it resides somewhere else beyond the struggle and the question why are we here and false notions of a devil some sense of importance that most surely is washed away as mortality ebbs us all away to a vast inexplicable unknown vastness of nothing which most possibly is an eternity of universe and silence the greatest cause of life thereafter in a hinterland before hope arises in another lifestream

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive