Tag: Poem

As Dark Rocks & nEUTRAL zONE

Protecting themselves as dark rocks beneath a sludgy slow-moving river. A family secret locked Above a large room a titanic door creaked open, black shapes in the room awaited looking to a cinema screen a film flickers into life all be seated and silent. The dark pulse of this riverscape is before them, superimposed on the screen are reels of one family’s life intermittently stopped so the deep pulse sound I added to the silhouette is heard by the audience then the reel starts again it is in mid-years now not perfect and the film stops. Once more one can feel and hear flowing waters hitting dark stones and changing textures, the river alone returns to the screen, and the audience sigh and just breath. All sound stops the river seems to stop flowing all reasons are embedded within the river rocks. The river bursts its banks, the river drains the external force, the river runs dry the rock implodes and all that is secret are gone in the end.

Neutral Zone

Aiming for the neutral zone aiming for the void, the spiritual catch space. I am not alone there are many more, we are gathered, we are one. We will be the same one day, the days of unity gentleness, and peace upon a bed of calm. With garlands upon our heads a cooling breeze weaves between all there has to be calm in the void that waits for the cleansing peace be upon our tortured selves salvation is in the portal of white shafted light.

IT’S ALL A RUN FOR THE MONEY

The slippery world of politics it’s all a run for the money, the reds are dead they followed the house and the money and became as the blues following the hours and the money, your money not necessarily their own nor the banks but they followed it. Rule Britannia drinks all round.
The greed the self-aggrandisement the penchant for more, forgetting social cause and worst of all a lack of conscience, being good, getting your gong, for the non-speaking community is tipping the money not the time.

But most of all for however much I listen nowadays, it seems answers from the not-so-great minds of those who remind me of bearded men from the Victorian era, do I say and not as I do a principal still carried by the political class to this day.

And so, from the mouths of often so very aggressive types, they require a social conscience not just me and mine , Britain you are beyond help and mere small words from the likes of me won’t help. What about the social housing, don’t trap, politically trap the less well off, to the Tory social plans for the mortgage. Which will trap the vulnerable in unconquerable debt and misery.

Labour knew this and to gain power they milked it for all they could. Despicable people they are well they have confirmed themselves to a wilderness forever in a greedy selfish flag waving aggressive country, that thinks more about media stars than the greater cause of repairing humanity and covering the green of this country with good housing for all as most definitely the policy of non-affordable homes being built carries on like an express train, with stereotypes of families driving cars like missiles and running around like aggressive rodents with brain disorders.

HERE WE GO AGAIN FOR ANOTHER POETRY ROUND UP

The Stream

I’d reached the life stream pick up point, the pineal transfer register was high and the light would soon open to astral flight through the ether, it could begin was there life after death.? I would soon discover the next life would lead to another planet I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to start from birth I was re-born in another life stream halfway and so happy with that was I .

The Stream in the Manner of The Bard

I’d hath reached the life stream picketh up pointeth, the pineal transf’r regist’r wast high and the lighteth wouldst anon ope to astral flight through the eth’r, t couldst beginneth wast th’re life aft’r death. ? i wouldst anon discov’r the next life wouldst leadeth to anoth’r planet i wast ov’rjoy’d yond i didn’t has’t to starteth from birth i wast re-b’rn in anoth’r life stream halfway and so joyous with yond wast i…

Angels In Clouds

Are angels in the clouds I have thought about these possibilities every day God has given me the gift of life I look up more and more the clouds are busy their forms more varied and possibly spiritual in nature we have the science behind them but should we forever believe this as I continue walking with my eyes to the above . Occasionally I believe I have witnessed something new shapes in between heavens formations is this by any chance heaven I think the angels are up there they are so busy now just waiting for the moment you will soon feel their love and energy pray may it be upon you in the now and today I go.

The Soldiers Of Your Souls.

The keepsake soldiers of your souls the miniature models carried perfect in the pockets by you and I all your relatives what a collection the good the bad and the indifferent who will I carry today to remind me of yesterday and that of do long ago you will be kept safe in the sanctuary of the harbour of souls from where spirits will roam freely forever.

The Soldiers of…In The Manner of the Bard

The keepsake soldi’rs of thy souls the miniature models hath carried p’rfect in the pockets by thee and i all thy relatives what a collection the valorous the lacking valor and the indiff’rent who is’t shall i carryeth the present day to remindeth me of yest’rday and yond of doth longeth ago thee shall beest hath kept safe in the sanctuary of the harbour of souls from wh’re spirits shall roam freely f’rev’r

A Little Box

There’s a little more than just death, oh yes a little model of you and me. Buy before we are forgotten, hand them down in a little box or keep them in your pocket. It’s not grim for we are so small as not to bother anyone, a keepsake of sorts if you like they can be used as key fobs let your lover in with your model husband, dangling on a chain. Coming soon to every shop a new way to remember so don’t forget little me or little you. A most convenient way to remember all done in the handiness of scale.

The Poet Speaks Detune…

We must simplify to survive the current model, detune, detoxify, accept humble worship. The light and day, we are given we can be anywhere just from our minds stop the vicious calculations. Listen to a breeze that filters subtle change, accept gentleness as a moral change. Within your hearts replace to live in peace instead of race to win and above all listen to the oppressed people’s of the world, hear the cry and proffer hope.

The SEED

The seed carriers of evolutionfall upon this new day, they rain upon desolate earth profound are they. For there is much to cover as Barron lands recover in silence for there is not a man nor woman to witness for this is done in in a vagueness of spaces, in mists they arrive apart from in intermittent pulses of winds in directions all random, some are directed from strategic Auric Beacons throughout new terra, the cleansing begins.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive