Poet – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

A Weight Was Lifted

A weight was lifted from my world, as clouds came down and touched the very ground I stood upon. Often I had wondered within life’s troubles and distortions. If I could reside in a final care free space and look high upon a bright cloud, filled my day had become more than just that science had said this was only made by the sun, upon moisture, but shapes told me otherwise far too many and some you could live in. Imagination carried us thus far but I was taken up and proven otherwise ,I had left earth behind as I was taken up, weightless but sure. Now in the knowledge that I had found another world and this was a new reality, forever for me such a weight had truly been lifted, I was now free .

And in the words of the Bard.

A weight wast did lift from mine own w’rld, as clouds cameth down and did touch the v’ry did grind i stoodeth upon. Oft i hadst wond’r’d within life’s troubles and dist’rtions. If ‘t be true i couldst reside in a final careth free space and behold high upon a bright cloud, did fill mine own day hadst becometh m’re than just yond science hadst hath said this wast only madeth by the travelling lamp, upon moisture, but shapes toldeth me oth’rwise far too many and some thee couldst liveth in. Imagination hath carried us thus far but i wast taken up and proven oth’rwise ,i hadst hath left earth behind as i wast taken up, weightless but sure. Anon in the knowledge yond i hadst hath found anoth’r w’rld and this wast a new reality, f’rev’r f’r me such a weight hadst truly been did lift, i wast anon free.

No Fear, No Memories & Cosmic Flowers.

When the earth is bare once more who will hear, nobody, I expect no fear, no memories what are we here for, not a soul to answer your questions. The point of us then is not clear, but in a hidden corner is a bubbling mess of mass, it contains colours, it is deep. A well of sorts, it swirls slowly at times gathering pace. The essential elements, it continues to mix in.

What we would call a revolution, evolution, so there we have it. I don’t really know how I managed to because I am upon another planet waiting for remodelling instructions. The crafts are parked on Mars we shall see as no-one on the surface of bare planet earth can, we will when we land call it our arrival and all in all we will start all over again. Let there be light said the one and there was… it was called a new world and at dawn we arrived.

Cosmic Flowers

Have you ever heard of cosmic flowers, believe me they are coming. Coming to save the righteous amongst us, the ones with good intentions, the ones with the bravest of hearts. Beds of soft petalled joy and colour the sweetest scents to our touch they are living , living to assure us that colours and pure desire do indeed heal our weary souls.

An Eternal Flame

The propriety of an eternal flame in a time of darkness’s must prevail to give brothers in time the hope of hope, life indeed to procure good news above. Bad to strike a chord with all living mortals upon earth who wait patiently for the dawn of days and nights of hope. Survival and enlightenment of unaccountable souls returning from seas of turbulence and destruction. To make our hearts and minds free to return to base and live again, away from the dizzy magnetic discarnate times of now where repetitions of evil are all too common.

The Inner Mind & Loading The Gun

The inner mind, the staircases in the library of mind. Older now and on the seventh level. I walk a narrowing galley and wonder how much more I can learn and store in the inner sanctum of this current life.

Of which I know not of its potential limit, in a life, I think as if storing in boxes what in reality we acknowledge as organic matter. Unpleasant to view but in the mass of it all are words and pictures hard to believe for in I in this organic mess produce and call it a sensory life.

Loading The Gun

The order of death is loading the gun, open the barrel, with a click, it is ready and polished and all a fine day is predicted upon. Which we will see and our eyes see all we need to see. We are tired we need rest from the wicked ones let us get this done whilst there is strength of purpose in our divine hearts the evil of the body politic must be rendered down so we can be free and breath again.

The Overseer For The Lord.

The idiot in the village, some five hundred years ago amidst the foul stench of what was known as the village. The abhorrent stench of everyday life was on the move, figures of dark brown attire matched the muddy surroundings it was as if all blended and to some extent so it did. The village idiot Brown John flapped his hands and danced around yipping as he went.

Talking was more like grunting more a mix of point and gesture, no Latin here, for brown John unknown to others was the supreme interloper an observer for interplanetary development seconded from the great ship in the sky that had mapped development from the birth of Christ.

The overseer for the Lord in heaven a cosmos away, John was half way through his present earth life there was much intelligence in his mud caked apparel and on this very day John had to go, for the execution of village idiots was night and as far as John was aware upon given instructions he was to avail himself to the hovering star when the moon became full and powerful in gravity.

The village was becoming noisy low drummers were sounding from afar down the track Sunday was approaching far dawn the track, death was coming for Sunday. It would be the villagers who were foaming at the mouth for bloodlust that day.

John is behind one of the camped village dwellings, crouched was he, the night of his personal ascendance moulded near an ale barrel was he. The large moon she was pulsing slowly John stood up immersed in light was he absorbed, was he John fitted within an egg shaped aura and also emitting an astral aura and he began the process of retrieval to the command of the white light.

To report to seven masters of the universe who would with precision place John within another timeframe of evolution to inspect the development of what we have come to describe as further versions of man in the universe. We go with the mark of God upon the palm of the right hand.