IT IS SUMMER LETS HAVE SOME POEMS, MY FRIENDS…

I Do Not Want The Demons.

I don’t want the demons so let’s keep running towards the light. If we can run away from a discarnate world, we will hear footsteps behind us in the dead of night. I must get up, is this real am I real. Do my feet touch the ground. The souls of all countries are dying time is slowly being called on the entire world. There is panic at the station I’ve bought a ticket but there is nowhere to go the only hope is a small light within the vortex that is now my destination.

Totally Abandoned

Thrown into the universe slowly around and around, totally abandoned by a greater mind I slowed gradually in the distance I confirm craft it appeared as big as a small world I was caught and sucked into a gap, the mother of all gaps a large vortex in appearance once in I disappeared in what appeared to be a flowing river in a different lifestream, there were others being prepared for other lives on what might become another designated planet of arrangement decided presumably by an adept of which all seemed to be in attendance all around me. Circling white lights amidst violet auras automatic and beautifully separated in suspended animation I seemed to be travelling slowly to a new life purpose where the scent of profusion entered my being anew.

THE SECRET ALIEN

The Secret Alien explains the dysmorphia of my mind my earth years are as of now 62 years and confusing to say the least vagueness and constant division masks me. I hide, I slip through I don’t fit in I’m starred at, I know I’m different apart from this world. I stride, I can sit. My mind opens, different rooms and distant landscapes, far from earth it tells me I am not much longer on earth. I am prepared I have much to report on the way back to Venus and the alien control room which monitors what is left of earth’s future trajectory once I am home will be deconstructed. I will serve again but in the meantime I await the arrival of one of the Adepts who will question me regarding my mission for I and he are the brotherhood of the sun a message from afar to the people of earth, and upon my home planet we pay homage to seven shining globes within a central sun an energy mirage seen over the horizon touching bobbing upon the horizon, on top of the global arc in a distant shimmering sea I think of other worlds. I live for hope we will see in whatever level of the conscious we arise upon the day for we are secret aliens and we are stranded.

FROM PROTESTS TO TRAVEL OuR POETIC WARRIOR IS ON A ROLL…

Warrior of Poetry sends his love and prayers to India  and also prays that in all densely populated areas the future will utilise land and buildings so people don’t have to be controlled in unsafe overcrowded towns and cities, all my prayers and love to India. Warrior of Poetry. 

The Recognition of Flight

The recognition flight, I circled around my world one last time, from the ground through the corridor of time and up, as the passage revealed itself, like a rocket I ascended to another time my heart broken but soon to mend. The velocity gave me no time to think which was good as it stopped all sadness’s within. I cut out certain times as I knew now which portions were now irrelevant too me, for I know now I was part of something greater than I knew before.

Demonstrations

Demonstrations they must end in coming years, there must be a better way they are all now synonymous with trouble that never ends, demonstrators are making fools of themselves believe me . The system of gathering one hundred thousand signatures for enabling debate in parliament must be improved as of the moment a proposed bad law can be stopped , writing to your MP with complaint is a toothless tiger. They take no notice, it is far too polite and not effective .So in conclusion the eliciting of the 100.00 signatures for debates in parliament must be more serious and effective at bringing change to bad and harmful policies, that blight this small island to demonstrate most of which are harmful can be put to an end.

The Chainsaw

After the chainsaw had gone the Forest floor lay desolate and bereft of life, solemn stumps remained unsafe. Ugly was the scene and what life was left tried to regrow, in the centres and circumference of the stumps. Some made it, others not succumbing to overpowering fungus. Giving strong aroma of decay and church innards. But promise, not far away and after many visits a tiny army of xylems at play covered this forest floor, strength in numbers be of no doubt oh forest beats us humans, but species colonisation had begun the little xylem army of processes would soon be growing and then the forest would cry, “I am Legion.”

Time Codes

Time codes they will be needed, very soon. We have been told to leave, something is coming but we know not yet of what it is, or what will become of us. It had to happen, we could not go on overdeveloped now, the experiment is at an end. If you have feelings then you know it is sad, as there are also many good ones. Humans I mean, but the time codes say we are in line. I don’t have one, so my fate is yet unknown so I’d better breath for this day and treasure it, before twenty one craft arrive formally hidden behind that giant cloud over there.

The Fog

The fog in the room, spirits collecting I thought my eyes were foggy then I realised what I had seen the gathering the final time, in early morning not aware of my presence they just gathered in density, intensity and with no conscience whatsoever. They pick their time obviously. I was no offence to them so they carried on with whatever they had to achieve, then a few blinks and later in the day they were gone. Were they not good to hang around I guess not and so onwards with the day.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive