The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive
The Poetic Warrior Returns to his Poetry after Illness Welcome One, Welcome All
The tide of immorality washing scum on the beach filthy brown detritus of filth agitated by power surge, tides washed, agitated, graded. The worst left upon the sand and back out with the tides too much sin no conscience the sea carries, taking life with no mercy are you happy dear god.
Are we seeing the estate agent in heaven now our bodies are dead and raw but no price exists up there, it is only atmosphere of a kind, your evolutionary skills have died and you know nothing & who told you your house was supposed to have a price.
The days are running out and the nights are catching up the darkness is spreading the stars have gone, universal jewels of the night are tired and our faith has not been restored so best tuck up under the covers and wake up in another world.
You can’t trust the alright geezers, there is two lights above the door with some sort of compass beneath, hard edges of correction on show, hand hard to shake, whilst looking at the thumbs,your world is an order.
Through them a life in chains by their kind suspicion is the key to that door, though they walk among many riddles of people, but i would rather reside with god I didn’t wish to be above another, lest he gives me cause for concern. For i am not a Freemason. Mason Cult