NK – Page 2 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Masters In High Chairs A Commentary

The conspiracy and control and how this keeps the masters in their high chairs from the monarchy to feudal landlords, the banks governments national and local, it is all there to control and regulate as a world population spreads out of control.

In this heavy mix the greatest form of denial is that of a roof over ones head be it as a singleton or family, there is now a not so hidden state of homelessness, does society care I doubt it, those upon the streets are viewed as almost byproducts in the gutter a strong statement to make I know, but that is where we are in so-called society.

We also happen to be living in a judgmental and formulaic society where the only ways to move along in life are the prescribed ones usually driven by fear and failure through the conduit of politics and devious media and obvious peer pressure, there appears to be few exceptions to the dogmatic nature of passage and the greatest failure of the prescribed systems, more often than not they miss some very gifted humans who are on the Autism Spectrum I will not add to this the condition of Aspergers Syndrome as the identifier Hans Asperger is now known to have collaborated with the nazi regime in the extermination of disabled children.

What Remains

The legacy of a strong presence, it had been a long time since we had visited a cottage called Cold Place, mud and dust, global spider webs over objects abounded the key turned a faltering mechanism.

A soft creaky push opened the door so heavy it had momentum of it’s own we lit ancient scented candles as we weaved through a cobweb menagerie of damp furniture toward two gentlemanly high back chairs that faced one another in gloom, with a black leaded fireplace we both sat cold in bold dampness but all the while a buzzing was a niggling away at our senses, profound as if some inevitable awakening was coming to greet us and it did, the fire combusted to life wind broke through, dry rot window frames all that was damp unfurled itself. Dry cobwebs blew sucked by a moving internal vortex the family wished us back.

Stood A Man & His Young Daughter

In the southern part of a south Asia a country near a border that shall be nameless, stood a man and his young daughter the man’s daughter wished to attend the children’s party in the north beyond the wire fence and prowling dogs a green four terraced building sang the tune of pleasant times drifting across the sea of oppression.

There was a door and a smiling guard who held a note-book & let them through he instructed them that there was a children’s party on the third floor.

The father said “come little one we shall see what this is, you have nothing much to do this day and the snow is falling fast.”

Father and daughter opened the big black door and proceeded to climb the winding stairs nothing in the first room, just bare and cold with strange scratches upon the wall but there was laughter in the second room full of brightly dressed girls and boys but no food or music.

The father was in a hurry and so left the youngster among the rest, he went downstairs out and back over the border for a while as he turned back to the building he could see the outline of a bulky man with glasses
smiling.

The day moved on the father returned asked the guard with his little book to go north and to the big green house , the father entered slowly and climbed the cold stairs to the second room despair struck all the children were dead he panicked and
ran back down the stairs on his way through the door to the south he was stopped by the bulky man in grey coat and glasses, why screamed the father the bulky man turned smiled and uttered with a coldness, because we have no food.