Adam – Page 15 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

I Think of the Mouse & Broken Down

With millions without homes I think of the mouse who makes a home in my shoe he knows about comfort even from a saucer size hole for his bedding from my old jacket. The mouse makes a lovely home,

With millions without homes I think of the mouse who makes a home in my shoe he knows about comfort even from a saucer size hole for his bedding from my old jacket. The mouse makes a lovely home, all it cost him were his inborn instincts obviously there is no relationship between the skill of the mouse and the plight of a human being, only one regret and it is this. To deny many kind but poor people a home is a lack of empathy and an insult to the meek, who will one day turn like the world and inherit a kind new age world where the horrors of the property profiteers will be banished.

Broken Down

When we are broken down it will begin again when this earth is ploughed and tilled again it will be down with seeds, when we break down, we are born anew to what we discover and in every hundred years we have one that looks the same, for thousands of years it strikes a chord in every country upon earth. We have doppelgangers repeating, the same person guarding, within limitation the souls of us, the masters adepts will be present. Walking in duplicity but with clothing for whatever period of time that was then, this is today and all the tomorrows till evermore infinity. Too vast for mind to grasp.

Ode For Xmas

It was a time of celebration when the prince defended. On time, in time amongst other times. Not seen by others in etheric spaces from the past, and in the now, from the unseen and the forever. All that ever was had gathered in the parallels that we sense but rarely see. All whosoever good or bad lived and died had gathered in the voids of presences.

This is how we are all related, at this time, settling Karmic balances on the wave of New Age discovery so Christmas has a right to be here a teasing reflective balance of imbalances the promise to right the wrongs, in cheery song of merry spirits in or out of this world all condense on the New Years eve condolences, to the passing of the past one and to prey for our Prince of Light The Master Jesus before he returns to Saturn.

The Earth & Abandoned

The earth is not beautiful anymore, every day it gets dropped it gets stained it feels the pain. The hearts of the good die by the hour with every shower that’s poured over us.

Too much, I can’t see. I wipe my eyes, I wipe your eyes. in the hope we can see the horizons without horrors and angry hate. Before its too late, before we die crash and burn in an unholy husk so lifeless when it needn’t be so.

Abandoned

Abandoned upon a wild river turning in whirlpools cast out on the flow faster more destructive mad vulnerable where will it end only natures law of end will tell the fastest escape to nothing that ever was washed up and wasted.

The Cold

The cold unforgiving beautiful trail of time through changing woodland, I walk I notice thin squirrels and over time I see them, playing to keep warm I feel that they are struggling and later that day sat down in another location. I realised the poor souls are thinner than usual I must remember that I am not above them we are equal and tomorrow I will buy them some food something to feed their thin tummies on what will be a cold and bitter day.

Pure & Blue Lights

Raw pure and simple that is all we should be, trust forgiveness foregoing our worldly desires more than ever now as sadness’s of the unknown stalk our every waking moment from the mouths of babes to beyond the last gasp.

Run for the blue lights like the fly above the trees to a rocky outcrop in the distance there they will gather and spin down to the ground, to mark yet another visit from the master a time to chisel his name, another holy place has been found this day and new pilgrims will surely follow. It is said, it is said, mark this time for all time. I see blue lights disappearing it is done.