Upon Stoic Hills

Upon stoic hills risen to point on platitude, distinct for I have seen on this day a path in winding for me, with a gold cross, set forth for others who may follow to cleanse imperfection and the despair of suffering,  like a magnet drawn in gravity scale I go.

Free.

Religion, neutral religion free, let us see what we could be. One, two, three, faith of hope and charity. Mind wash, set me free, let us be what we want to be. Not dicta from patrols of masonic rulers, just our free eyes to see what needs to be upon land over seas. Set us free like innocent children who laughed out loud till the controller sought the moulded quota for the next generation to be.

The Lord of Hosts

Who shines through the most within the Lord of hosts, in the wake of a coming, a clearance down from clouds changing in moisture as to reigneth down upon those to leave a dissolution of human matters that had no purpose upon earth.

In life and therefore rendered most evil of sorts, earth now to be left plain and bare pristine, as the energies from crystal belt worn by the new energies, now inspecting what new model of evolution.  Preparing to evolve in the god of the benevolent suns new dawn.

Imposter

Impostor the parasite in a world of hosts impostor sat upon another’s chair the vague cell visiting, I’m no ones friend though, my father above is unique he didn’t birth on earth the impostor was never wanted, his personality of truths never wanted. But impostor sampled earth man vagaries and took them back to the master in galaxies above earth would now be left to die 21st century style in hell made of ignorance upon evil earth and vanities of the possessed and the various vivacious multitude of peccadillo.

Naked Alien

It’s hard to be a naked alien when you glow as much as I do constant velocity and friction in a grinding vortex, wheel under a cosmic lid of limitation under a ring pass, not now eroding letting the Lords of Saturn, under a blinding glory of golden light. energy of constant evolution changing the models on earth, conscious not abiding in terror we travel running from land to land in disasters and man’s imperfection.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive