Cheap Voice & Goose Bombers

Cheap voice, nothing to say no one will hear you puppet of a god dream in the scheme of life, for those who come and never go in the dark portals of the most would try to avoid. In the lower kingdom of the forever lost and never found this who moulded into boulders and laughing gargoyles of a lost church not knowing heaven or hell, losing the spell in the casting of a dark scene in hell where the know ones never smile.

Goose Bombers

Goose bombers, seventeen, noise cacophony chaos, but uniform are they fast determined. What are they I’m guessing scoped geese, flying v determined with significant signals and signatures sounding brothers and sisters in the sky.

The Love of 1929 & Ignore

Under the bushel tin, undisturbed since 1929 there remains a secret no one thought to disturb, a curiosity of the heart played its song within the reverb. To its spiritual sense of love, imprisoned, stifled of delivery, into a light that would be hard to bare. Of letters of love repressed under circumstances and secrets, that matter not for writer and recipient, have flown in sunlight the strength of earthly yearning. Gone footsteps now approach dusty doors and cobwebs rest on the bushel of neglect over unmarked love letters from 1929.

Ignore

Ignore the pain numbness of time, stifling discord that sings not a harmonious tune, be vigilant of shadows and who is really walking beside you. For it could be many but only one disturbs and troubles that of a discarnate corrosive enemy twisting and pulling at inner decency, who ignore cries from the poor and disabled and wont share inherent space nor give a garden to play under the only sky we share.

An ODE To COVID & Now Saved

Corona virus the secret untold obviously we have not had World War 3 the world population is unsustainable, climate change and provision supply stretched to the limit. Then there is the hidden world leaders meetings encrypted access to the monster of all plans. The Subtle Control of World Population under the protection of the Masonic hammer, if only you knew poor people of the world, that you are now controlled and dispatched to the final frontiers by not just one but one of many viruses with the perpetrators behind the symbol.

Now Saved

The other plains of truth I speak of, you at a crossroads, exists where all variants of direction exist. Central, waiting are those wise enough to meet, in recognition what has to change, man is an evil can be an evil being, now save for the misunderstood who suffer dogmas meted out by the most evil from discarnate roots.

Why The Challenge & When All Is Seen

Why the challenge for space upon earth when so much is there, why the condensation of mortals, in portals of squeezed and desperate impoverished cities, towns, and many villages if the governments are so bad how come the rations get through. What is this sick game, what gives any right to a so called leader, north, south, east, or west to sanction brutal actions in the name of their unseen unproven god. There isn’t one is there. So its money power education, from earmarked educational enclaves elite policies of control not decanted to mere mortals upon fragile earth and the very nature of a polluted world that has changed any rational component, of any, once maybe, rational mind. The world will evolve and reclaim itself with nothing and no one, the winds and rains as they roll, the plains with intermittent sunshine trying to break through but struggling in bitter as I who’s left to hear these heavy and bleak moments in a now timeless time.

When All Is Seen

When all is seen as disability remember the mother and her baby, looking into newborn eyes how baby came about not sordid but in blind love, a future not to see but forethought, a wonder innate in clarity. Of visionary parents plans, many are thwarted by all that is yet to know as we are sour today selfish unyielding next in our selfish wants, which are to witness all around, pinched faces posed by media is a norm tongues, are saved as no one speaking definitions and political social narratives of a busy class system. Chirps but on sour notes and never free from the want and the the happy grow child, who wants friends a blessing to a world that wont talk as it could but this child now laughs and continues to inspire.

A Budget Rant Mason Cult

The greatest and worst act of subversion, mother country will look after you, we will print money, fight disease en mass we will satisfy every living human who exists, labour, swallow the medicines, Liberal Democrats, too breakfast brexit man wrapped in the arms of Bo and Dom. But it will soon become I’m a politician get me out of here, as the workhouses return and cuts to all manner of services occur, begging corners sweet and sour doppelganger royalty, hanging on people waving at nothing on motivational call, desperate to keep the tattered flag flying as the Smokey chancellor prints money from his hot hands.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive