Behind the veil of the alien, the bewildered child, the new creation. The fear, the blackness of an ocean. An oracle in time the birth born but abandoned at the same time. The fear rooted in the beginning when there was nothing, black eyes began to fill with colour this became life and light. Sight, hearing, senses and smells crisp and fresh then you were given the power to talk and yes of course to walk amongst us and there are many more of you they are for all the tomorrow’s and then some, which by decree may never come for your host the earth has many limitations for you and only those that fly are free from the sea we come dropped as matter upon the beaches waiting for a side reel through the ether. Beest of lighteth anon new being who is’t is thou o l’rd we knoweth not, as the Bard sayeth.
Tag: poems about life
a collection of poems from the warrior…
Deserted Beaches
A side reel of fire that is the matter deposited upon earth’s deserted beaches. In the silence of thousands of desolate nights under a myriad of stars, guiding and benevolent moon lights of the sandy weaving coastlines. There is no-one yet to hear the auld pulse of crashing waves into stubborn rockfaces. But in the coves and caves tiny fires are now seen and shapes within shadows. New life is forming around fires, naked and hairy for now. But forms from the matter are bursting forth ready for the inward march under thousands of sun mornings.
Gods Return To The Sun.
God’s return to the sun within. Simple it is, all life molten drops of energy that we cannot touch we only harvest the rays that lift us to our feet every day. Alive with the absolute in dilution breaking past the seal of limitation that halts our burning and nurtures crops to harvest and eat for the simplicity of life and faith.
Particles
Particles in the pipeline I shone my torch down a length of pipe the light captured the particles within I have no doubt the particles will posses the nuclei for another life by the time the end of this tunnel is reached I may even suggest that whilst they are spinning in this swirl another life will emerge upon their exit to an awaiting galaxy the new world my friends.
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.
Selection of poems for your enjoyment
Son of lightweights made heavy by time and experience never the model, maybe a son under one sun walking to the light of discovery. After years of clouds and dark days daring to lift the lid to freedom.
The Day The Trees Left Earth
The day the trees left earth, so many years drawing upon earths poisons, the ground shuddered roots broke loose and levitated from the seating earth. If you won’t mend your ways we will go somewhere else we grew for you upon the ground from the sky we neutered establishing to you the very air you breath, but earth man refuses to withdraw his poisons. So we are compromised to the extent where we now have to go, legacy gaps you now find and earth weeps tears as she declines.
An Ode To Masks
Friend, foe or just insane we all pass by our masks in place, we hide, we retrieve our breath as we walk step by step we are warned do not reveal we could be dangerous. We are told to know how we are the the epitome of the new veiled. By dark irony the very mask we wear comes from the very place that caused the virus. Still when it comes to money and the cheap option we know how. We are told we are fat we are told we will die. As the sun comes up so the day begins we savour the moment for it could be the last we wear the mask, otherwise remodelled no idea who I was it’s all down to number so we want to escape but to where it is cold upon the mountain top and I am just one sat here in contemplation as the police wander over ticket book in hand. The comical dark saga our nation faces continues.
Double Barrelled Names Good God No
So offensive are they not a day goes by when media screens are not full up with double barrelled names. A sure sign that we are more bothered about trying to be more important than anything else made up to try and bolster, embellish and hide our insecurities and rivalry aplenty. I prefer Joe Smith or Mrs Smetherhurst at least one can have a conversation when humans touch base for a chinwag and ask how’s Jack is he OK we think we are two sophisticated now I assure you we are not we are human and royalty and the class system is an evil façade.
Son of Lightweights
Son of lightweights made heavy by time and experience never the model, maybe a son under one sun walking to the light of discovery. After years of clouds and dark days daring to lift the lid to freedom.
Not empowered but grateful for secret input to gain insight it is as if God for a blip in time made me aware of what I should do to save a tiny portion of life left. If that is so take the leap yonder people all held down, try at least to be yourself however poor in circumstance you may be, People like you lean a little bit more for opening the door to say hello, just be a friend and that is all. No fear. no favour. Friendships should be free as birds of the sky
Another Poetry Selection From Warrior of Poetry.
Neptune’s Friend
Neptune’s friend now a spirit drifting within a dense cloud, hiding. I always wondered when in mortal time what it would have been like to go fishing on a boat in wild seas. How brave and maybe mindless is is it to rise and fall in the search for slick shiny protein we call fish.
Oh skill, bravery and tenacity reign in all forms but nothing more brave than the stoic warrior of the fishing seas. The fisherman his biblical struggle for a staple of your feed. I zone in from the clouds to the boat deck with the manic endeavours of the day. I sensed rising and falling I couldn’t be sick as I was a spirit now flowing in the slicks of wind and rain. I was with the fishermen till they headed for home to the shoreline and safe harbour and I thought in my spirit form who shall I join next for another day. Upwards I transcend to hide within the cloud, to be free again.
Rooms With a View
Rooms with a view and how much more do we need, I really mean it. Many of the troubles that we have today are due to the uneven distribution of land and the convincing methods of control this has. Nobody should have to live in a tower block but they do. How is that enjoyable battery hens are kept this way they have problems for sure they do.
It’s a parachute for a garden and a lift from terra firma alright or otherwise death is not too pleasant so why is this an acceptable form of living. Surely it is not, but the idea remains half a mile to the clouds . Something needs to change but at this point in time I’m stuck for an answer, surely so called intelligent planners cannot continue with these results. We know of one of the most immoral results being in the form of Grenfell Tower, finally over the planners desks one comes up with this suggestion to deliver us from such horrors alas however where there is no sense, there is no feeling, are these people possessed. Think hard brothers and sisters of the lives lost.
Milestone
Milestone of a redirected discovery, that of truth and love. To live forever side by side seen on the future horizon far in a cosmic sky. Starlit pods explode cascading down and all around, dazzling and bemusing. The earth moves once more in a new revolution inspired by good and bold, young and old together we go kinder citizens of the world in new hope stand, be inspired in vortexes of starlight and let us go live.
Rainy
On a rainy black road of glistening rain, I glance the protruding stock window frames stand proud one window stands out for what is within it is but a landscape, upon this wall. So many sitting inside this wall mural has on its door the guarantee of escape. Narnia on the wall, tell me are we all that desperate now to escape from the inner house, do I believe it. Oh yes I would like too.
That I Know
There are too many of us of that I know. We have run out of words, I know that too. It is disturbing I know that also. We are watching exterminators every day we see that I know as well. We are watching, this is happening for verily I know. The wheel turns that is also known, forever on the world watching waiting and aye yond is eke known as the bard wouldst sayeth I’m here living for the moment and aye I knoweth yond v’ry much, Shakespeare stirs the Bard within me.