Tag: Covid

Covid i predict a trial like Nuremburg

Nation beware of the local political doctors, the deciders of the rationing of treatment begin to operate, let’s take private dentists as an example, let me point to NHS dentistry, once again they say that they are short of P.P.E equipment or none at all.

Are they as private providers in a better position to supply this, if you are one of the many NHS patients allowed to sit with the private patients on the list, one is told you cannot have essential treatment.  Which of the private plan clients are they allowed to treat.

A grey area, citizens of totalitarian Britain. We have a group of veiled Nazis in government but let them not forget the vote, both Tory and Labour can’t do without each other when it comes to political power, they and the increasing power of local authority control and the middle class busy bodies on community engagement forums, they are the new Mr and Mrs Bumbles poking their way into decanting community spy information and helping dinner party doctors in making the list of who in virus lock down world lives or dies. A sad world.

If the virus came from anywhere then it came from more than one country and more than one facility it could be termed as professional, medical, societal, political correctional murder to balance the populations, the higher masonic I suggest are involved at every professional level. But sworn to threatening secrecy the poor and vulnerable are not offered an opinion. They are but a wiped name from a morticians register board this government blatantly issued a media statement to the public, saying be prepared for the passing of many in the communities. But the poor are still too many, too many for the voices to be silenced. Boris Johnson is a media construct helped by Dominic Cummings and it is just a question of time before the whole deck of cards comes down and believe me there will be much, much anger.

Covid It’s Death All The Way

Covid its death all the way and a hop skip and jump to the thrift society way. How else could it have been achieved, the wheat from the chaff, the secret clearout. The healthy eating, a new compliant society polite and passive in a world holy cooperative and controlled by a state machine. It will take a seriously brave group of individuals to alter the course of events. Will the rule over us be a liberty of sorts or a working walking sense of a former life. With the additions under the same sun as seen before, all disease is set upon us by our own direction. Oh yes it is real what we see but the overplan is unknown and administered by those upon the astral plane in the dead of night or does truth reside with the political spin doctors who are puppets of the worldwide political elite. As of this moment no-one dare question. Upon thy fate may rest, indeed very scared are we. The reverb of new hope is sorely needed to save the world.

Warrior of Poetry Political Rant

As a poet and a social justice fan I reflect there is a right wing group in the Tory Party on a mission searching for a way to regain our freedom in this country. If they achieve this they will look good sound right and catch the mood of a desperate public. But and it is a big but, what most are unable to see is the overall achievement of a dictatorship, running from generation to generation. Consuming the decades as they go.

The other two main parties are hopeless they have no leaders, in fact they appear boneless all the wind is out of them, alas forlorn they look just agreeing with the rest to stay in their lifeboats.

I bet Johnson will be out by May there will be a coup and an empty seat will be filled, paving the way in our Lifetime a dictatorship of magnitude never to be touched whilst the poor will be searching the landfills for food and crime will be uncontrollable taken to extreme levels. I sigh deeply.

Xmas Poetry & Audio Poems Ep 1.

Audio Poems

Tramps are everywhere…
Hurried Stuff, mother is in the living room.
It’s Grim Up North

A Time.

A time when nothing is in your hands, manipulation occurs, from another source. It comes to visit by surprise it does so in doses to convince you literally your mind is not your own wait. And you will feel them sleep, then see forever.

Boys Who Were Kings

Boys who were kings at ten, now sit on their own, when they were old and grey cobwebs were spun around the stiffness as the chair rocked to and fro a long nose of nobility hit the shadows, the lightbulb swung. A shadow in the gap where once burned a fire in the once living hub of familial energy, a forefinger raised still above the right chair. Arm pointing, but the direction has gone. A figure walks past the glassless window a cool white full moon is helping the voice shouts out “anyone at home” “silence man, the king is dead close the door”. All reposed nothing to report

Hurried Stuff

Hurried stuff dark rainy day strained brain sat on me Todd watching a wheeze of a sixties slice of life semi biopic of the cultural time now gone it is but madness Norman Bates is here mother are you alive or dead no it is a slipper behind the door , where is mother she is but with axe ready in the front room still watching soaps whilst I’m still in a lather looking for an open door

The Overseer For The Lord.

The idiot in the village, some five hundred years ago amidst the foul stench of what was known as the village. The abhorrent stench of everyday life was on the move, figures of dark brown attire matched the muddy surroundings it was as if all blended and to some extent so it did. The village idiot Brown John flapped his hands and danced around yipping as he went.

Talking was more like grunting more a mix of point and gesture, no Latin here, for brown John unknown to others was the supreme interloper an observer for interplanetary development seconded from the great ship in the sky that had mapped development from the birth of Christ.

The overseer for the Lord in heaven a cosmos away, John was half way through his present earth life there was much intelligence in his mud caked apparel and on this very day John had to go, for the execution of village idiots was night and as far as John was aware upon given instructions he was to avail himself to the hovering star when the moon became full and powerful in gravity.

The village was becoming noisy low drummers were sounding from afar down the track Sunday was approaching far dawn the track, death was coming for Sunday. It would be the villagers who were foaming at the mouth for bloodlust that day.

John is behind one of the camped village dwellings, crouched was he, the night of his personal ascendance moulded near an ale barrel was he. The large moon she was pulsing slowly John stood up immersed in light was he absorbed, was he John fitted within an egg shaped aura and also emitting an astral aura and he began the process of retrieval to the command of the white light.

To report to seven masters of the universe who would with precision place John within another timeframe of evolution to inspect the development of what we have come to describe as further versions of man in the universe. We go with the mark of God upon the palm of the right hand.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive