Tag: Paranormal

When The Vessel Has Died & Breathing Constant Creation.

When the vessel has died and gone, where is mind has it conquered over this organ or is mind somewhere else beyond seen boundary. Is it mixed or returned, solitary, vulnerable, shaped, by good or evil. Upon a mountain exposed is the skull of a philosopher, the howling wind blows through sockets like the thousands of sheep that died by his side. Did they join his flock or are they indeed just remnants of the dead, all that seems to be left is a lock of hair, for mortal man was indeed made of flesh and even to this day destination fucked will be upon us like a hurtling express train.

Breathing Constant Creation

Breathing constant creation, taking and giving, where panic and sense of mortality meet, who do we think we are, an element of something shared for a time with others, a teasing glimpse of enlightenment and fleeting entitlement. Like the bee taking nectar from flower heads, as changing to the power of honey sweet and temporarily consuming the cosmic breath of time.

The Scribe Savant

Commenteno the scribe savant of his time, sooth sayer supreme he asked the sun and of the cosmos what will become of the earth people, so devoid of feeling and sensibilities, why do they elect as masters those that will harm the weak disabled and mentally afflicted. A signal from violet shaft entered Commenteno’s mind a white light gave this message . The people who rule are also weak and empty they have ingratiated themselves with every false prop of material gain forsaking their suffering counterparts.

Your rulers rule as farmers, the weak, will die. but as a result rulers will become weaker and the graves of the weak will have a sweet scent of promise in bloom. Telling those that come will sense Nirvana and feel vibrations of love energy. For the weak and poor have been released of earthly suffering and the master dictators will meet in hell and burn forever by their evil they will have tied themselves to hell forever.

 

Ode For Xmas

It was a time of celebration when the prince defended. On time, in time amongst other times.  Not seen by others in etheric spaces from the past, and in the now, from the unseen and the forever.  All that ever was had gathered in the parallels that we sense but rarely see.  All whosoever good or bad lived and died had gathered in the voids of presences.

This is how we are all related, at this time, settling Karmic balances on the wave of New Age discovery so Christmas has a right to be here a teasing reflective balance of imbalances the promise to right the wrongs, in cheery song of merry spirits in or out of this world all condense on the New Years eve condolences, to the passing of the past one and to prey for our Prince of Light The Master Jesus before he returns to Saturn.

The Earth & Abandoned

The earth is not beautiful anymore, every day it gets dropped it gets stained it feels the pain. The hearts of the good die by the hour with every shower that’s poured over us.

Too much, I can’t see. I wipe my eyes, I wipe your eyes. in the hope we can see the horizons without horrors and angry hate. Before its too late, before we die crash and burn in an unholy husk so lifeless when it needn’t be so.

Abandoned

Abandoned upon a wild river turning in whirlpools cast out on the flow faster more destructive mad vulnerable where will it end only natures law of end will tell the fastest escape to nothing that ever was washed up and wasted.

The Cold

The cold unforgiving beautiful trail of time through changing woodland, I walk I notice thin squirrels and over time I see them, playing to keep warm I feel that they are struggling and later that day sat down in another location. I realised the poor souls are thinner than usual I must remember that I am not above them we are equal and tomorrow I will buy them some food something to feed their thin tummies on what will be a cold and bitter day.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive