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.
Tag: poetry poems
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.
Towards The End
Toward the end and in the distance I could visage the beginning between black skeletal trees, a moon behind me and so in front of me illumination, creation, preservation, transmutation an energy pyramid. Sat faintly growing dimly glowing majestic, magnetic. In control of the field of presences where new creatures come playing in the night silently…
Upon the river bank in the manner of the bard
Th’re wast upon the riv’r bank a pile of soil transmut’d if ‘t be true thee wouldst indulge me, into a heapeth of emotion laying within. T wast a warmeth day and the travelling lamp did beat down something inside did want to breaketh out of the soil, t vibrat’d and did tremble across the riv’r wide and ranneth at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white lily hath moved into the riv’rbank all high-lone and bobbing, t suddenly did turn upside down and expos’d t’s delicate roots searching f’r a new life, t struggl’d a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dryeth did crack soil, f’r inside new life wast waiting and a voice from above bellow’d “tell those in the silv’r cautel we has’t new life. ” as the riv’r hath carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life wast b’rn
There was upon the river bank a pile of soil transmuted if you would indulge me, into a heap of emotion laying within. It was a warm day and the sun beat down something inside wanted to break out of the soil, it vibrated and trembled across the river wide and ran at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white Lily moved into the riverbank all alone and bobbing, it suddenly turned upside down and exposed it’s delicate roots searching for a new life, it struggled a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dry cracked soil, for inside new life was waiting and a voice from above bellowed “tell those in the silver craft we have new life.” as the river carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life was born.
Behind the veil
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.