Political – Page 2 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Another Tub Thumping Poetry Round Up

Our Father

Our father we’ve been trying to find you in heaven, but so far we’ve had no luck waiting for
the cloud on the left till it passes by, but nothing happened. I got my brother to shout but you took no notice. He said to me “you must be seeing things and by the way say hello I’ve been dying to meet him, why did it take so long Amen.”

New to the Garden

New to the garden here is the cat in your Disney moment, sitting calmly he approaches, he doesn’t talk but the eyes are doing a good job. Shall I be nice to you today I shall soon find out. Well an answer short and not so sweet came along he put his paws around my leg demanding that I shouldn’t move without speech. A cats idea of control at a glance well I can’t do that I’d be powerful if I could sigh to the wilderness.

The Swallows Defender

I am the swallows defender for the cat is around sitting sprawled upon the ground eyeing the solitary swallow. The birdie frets to be back in the nest where chicks wait, the swallow sits upon an old electrical wire and stares me out, I say hello there’s not a lot I can do. Meanwhile the cat waits but alas in vain no chicks falling today. However a plate full of dry food comes along happy kitty, the swallow thanks me with a wink, or is it my can of Eight Ace cider that causes me to see birds speaking.

Poetry & Yet More Poetry From Our Poetic Warrior Archive

God Morning

God morning to you, yes God morning not good morning, I think he is responsible for this day that is a given a day and a date to boot. My number is somewhere, anywhere, I am trying to find it. I hope I’m not on the list for the plan God says it is not convenient to ask anything of him today as he is getting the new people ready he’s fed up with us now we are too violent he whispered in my ear.

Always

Always gain a new perspective, it might save the day, look to the skies in different ways. It is always new, it is always refreshing. Look for virgin landscapes where nothing sits upon the hill that is above us, we are below I can’t be a bird but my imagination is high. The outer limits where new dawn waits and hopes stay alive, pass the Yanga juice I need it.

An Ode To The Southport Marine Lake.

I am in a small Gondola my hands paddle me along I listen to the echo’s in the void I go slowly to the center of the marine lake an entrance reveals I am entering the next world who will greet me. Ahhh even god can wait, as I crack open my seventh tinny…lunchtime o bozzle that is the way. But hark the lake pulls me like a monster, I have fallen from my boating steed…

Welcome to neutral peace land in a timeframe of my own lunch hour, I sit, and for the first time in a long time I rest, I hear birds I think joy, and in the gap there is silence but for the cooing of pigeons making their box tidy, oh busy birdie, one will pop outside to look up at this bird, my feathered friend acknowledges me, I believe that is a miracle. We have common ground me and birdie, he drinks pints you know…

Open The Mind

Open the mind let the universe in, like a river that flows. It made you and sent you forward upon evolutions way. From day to day we changed but albeit slowly, fashioned to the state we are in now. Tell me what state will we be in soon I know not. Yet be still and know that you are God.

The Gum of the Past

Everything we’ve ever done leaves its mark, looking back where was that fingerprint, ah, is it still there half a century old now. A bit lonely as millions of others are. So I went on a mission to save it, bring it home and frame it from my grey Aunt’s stair rail, with the dried chewing gum in the gap. I had to ask the new owner as the fact is I never inherited the house. Split three ways. With a thousand in cash for someone’s dog never mind, I’ll have the fingerprint back though. Oh, I wonder if the gum still chews…and Uncle Cyril is on the phone, that cash it looks like the ink is smudging on the notes !!!!

Time

Time to end the brutality of the times. Not that we have ever defeated it, survives all time of history, the capacity to be cruel and dominating what exactly did our so-called God create yes, the fauna and playground breeding grounds for the hordes. Why can’t we go to the paradise of a kind island? The language of the shadows where prowlers live among the curious lower kingdoms secretly the monthly change of lunar activity sees shadow bolting from holes to who knows where and tapping you upon the shoulder and in low breath warning it’s time.

Forthcoming Book & Poetry Round Up

Our Warrior of Poetry Ian, is assembling his new book with illustration, and you can catch Poetry Corner with the poems at 8.30pm every Wednesday on the Shindig Show at www.mightyradio.co.uk 107.9 FM in the Southport, Preston area. Poems of a Working Class Hero, the forthcoming book, stay tuned.

Life

Life, be joyous at this moment, at this time I found speech in the heavens, like a wise bird upon an illusionary branch. I sang of the joy, of being able to wake up and live another day. For this joy I made my mission and flew around in exaltation of the benevolences of the others. I never met those unseen that gave me life so I could sing my songs in praise of An Almighty.

Starman

I am Starman engulfed in purple magnificence resplendent to all in the space of spaces inner space in my mind I’m on it in it, legend in my own lunch hour, living it. The oval enclosure that is my craft, my space ship, my protector, my inner harmony, the divine creator I have evolved from Elton John & Rocket Man, I am now Starman. Play.

No Account

Taking no account of the time it flew by it was as if this was on purpose as it created a blur of confusion it was if I had imagined clocks spinning furiously towards control this seemed to be fast enough to make a blur the plot was thickening too many wars too many dying of bullets or virus the target for the thinning had begun as the Buddhist said to the earth we go the dust had hardly settled when a whirring began descending over chaos science fiction came real to kill or save we would find out invasion of the outers had begun with gold spheres leading the way.

Land of Pedigree Chums

England and the land of the pedigree chums but the gentry are catching up, refinements and acquisitions are all the vogue, and the accent is getting a touch affected each carries opinions of miniature dictator the problems are effected by the touch of a button the A Listers rule, and whose doing what to who and whosoever no-one cares. Its a pity your expensive car on four wheels represents you, but I have a secret, the old man goes by on the old bike guess what that was royalty going by because he has thirty grand in the loft, and I am scaling the loft ladder, when in Rome, reader, when in Rome.

How Tiny

How tiny we all are non of us were born in the sky no angel did we hang from no divine mother’s with open arm arms held us up there in a Theosophy sky panorama so why do we reach when we inevitably fall the earth owns us and consumes our all the wind gathers our collective dusts of death and relocates us grown again by rain on earth and the many facets of benevolent sun and wars say all about our lack of development that Wain’s by the day.

Don’t Pick Up

Don’t pick up dark energies from humans don’t look them in the eyes walk on keep happy with optimism inside all the waking time if you can you will sense a kindred spirit upon your track when you meet them and that is worth all dark looks and vaccous comment as the dark ones walk their nothings perfect but this may help

Retracing

Retracing the faultlines for the sacred state just so much is needed for our lives would be pointless if we couldn’t put things right ,so many sins so many disaters so pointless our lives become if we cannot mend part of turbulent history in disturbed lives despair occurs never to be Godlike and white pure but maybe the harmony and healing of the violet flame to bath in.

A New Collection of Poems Just For You…

Forget

Forget and see what there is today, look to the horizon. Build in your mind anew, forget the dead and gone. It will serve you not, we are called by cold dark histories. When there is air now and things to see and do cast of the mind shackles, shake off the dust, walk, breath, pray. All the way. The change will come but only the will. Your will can change anything.

Nevis the Spider

The rise of Nevis the spider suckered in my room and a storm was revealing itself outside the twinkle and spangle of facets. Before I fixated was I, to the point of no movement the Tiffy bedside lamp casting a shadow or two in the chamber of the shadowed shack, but then along came Nevis the spider mini monster with all his legs. Six of the most versatile, the climbing small mountaineer on a mission in my room. Very slowly Nevis crept along like a professional burglar obsessed I thought I was clever until I observed Nevis the spider. I hope he found his way home with his Alien eyes to the coving corner in my winter room and into his safety net of micro steel web, a clever fortress of minute complexity.

Come In

Come in, take your clothes off there are no flies on us, brush everything away all this as the sun rises, sit down say a woman you cannot stand there, it’s not easy I promise we aren’t taking a rise from your presence. You have come here to disown yourself. I see the hairs upon your back rising, yes the world is in a pickle and as you are now nothing it will clearly stick upon your person, we have unity here in our vulnerable state, we suggest all leaders of the world be the same as us in one room then at least we can all laugh at how absurd we all are.

Cosmic Masters

Cosmic masters to earth control, the bricks are down, the great leveling has begun. Since the dawn of time property had been the demarcation of division between all people coupled with complicated religions. Control death and destruction steer the course of a link in the mind of man. A part of man’s mind required alteration for the vacant mind of man had caught the attention of the creator an energy cube far in the universe. It was time for change upon our known own falsities upon earth unable to tolerate one another. People had run amock greed being the priority that was all humans could think of, politicians had diseased collective mind protecting their forever land, an impervious mindset setting mere mortals minds into rage and hate. Status reproducing and fornication are the only damaging hobby body art becomes status and vanity explode. Cosmic intervention had become necessary so this leveling had to be, became known as the cosmic evaluation of people by the great master. Adepts upon earth had to breathe once more.

The Neutral Blanket

The neutral blanket that was the day when all the days crammed into one and they collided, time had been running so fast, it was as if time itself was running away. But to what destination the period in time seemed to be rushing to a conclusion. There was to be an intervention but it would not be of this world it had to come from another, I watched the sand timer from my chair with a fire blazing and wood crackling. Flames of personalities dancing shapes, visions, horrors, all in the mix tortured spirits too many to count shapeshifting in front of my hooded eyelids, I concluded that civilization which it is now had to go to sleep and depart its ugly history and upon the time of the morrow refreshing warm breezes would come and harmony with her friend peace would join in unity.

I Am Table

Lots of recycling going on as it happens thought about recycling myself wondered what would happen, first of all, I have to destroy myself and be broken into bits, an old friend dragged me to be remade but not sure how it would come out apparently I am now the first talking dining table I can even move ready for tea, how about that.

Sandpaper

Sandpaper upon granite, that’s where we are, the walls we cannot penetrate all too often at humanity’s loss. So many poor smashed against the wall absorbed in eternal soil lost under the plough, coming out as something else and the cold castles of pomp and indifference still stand on the militant ground leaving the meek and lonely sad, tell me where is the benevolent energy. God or is it eternity that rises and falls and the rest forever a timeless sea of peace.

Once Upon

Once upon a long time ago, we had a life, we had a show, we were in it we were there. The sun came out for the day we sat up without a thought and often just walked away. Now we are held down not able to move there is control the coercion of the evils, presents as a magnetic force nearly down to the last human. A few escaped but fear for their lives and some indeed live underground and can secretly walk to another world leaving all others behind.

The Poetic Warrior Strikes Again With a Great Selection of Poetry

The Mysterious Auric Horns

Down in terra earth, cavernous places exist mostly unknown to surface dwellers deadened by suppression of mass assembly and form, the Auric Horns were in place, and as earth years passed in increments the push to reveal carried on regardless, people above would traverse hills but not mountains, as they would stop by the emergent structures and absorb the emitting often healing buzz and vibration. The Auric Horns protected their structures in the form of wailing sounds of terror to ward off any investigation as more inches pushed upward.

The years were going by and all who walked past the Auric Horn sites noticed increments of upward movement and in the summertime, those having picnics would sit atop the energy field and would comment upon the apparent healing properties. It was fast becoming the only healing miracle centre upon a dying world, ports at various locations were seen possibly as an entrance for adepts to interview, come the time of the Lord Jesus second alighting to the damaged earth but no one knew the time of this and what appeared to be acres of new citadels emerged, waiting for the codes to enter. These citadels stood in silence for further instruction.

With the emergence of the Auric Horns throughout the known now visible earth, these structures continue to be a mystery. There is no explanation, no history document for this is not weathering for this is the emergence of an unknown kind the slowest of revelations, that will never be dust for their time is yet to come, their message is waiting and the power and height will grow.

The Beasts of Royalty

Be yea not fascinated by them the beasts of royalty and pomp. Be yourself and think freely, be not of royal pomp as it will swallow you, be not of blind deference. But be of humanity’s cause, the brotherhood of man and not Satan’s slave. For you shall be of peace and kindness for the betterment and future and eternal hope.

In Your House

The frequency of the day across the line it comes overwhelming all others. Speech has stopped this signal above all others counts world re-boot the English language is dead, a glance and vibration of the universal language no other will do. The animals have it we have become too complicated to the sound we draw, but watch the eyes and the eye holes in your best-framed picture in your house they are looking at you.

The Secret War

The secret war with a pandemic, many moons ago a national newspaper highlighted that nearly every virus would not have an antibiotic to resist it, how true this has become. So now we have the Covid and Omicron viruses but no human falling down in the streets, no upturned cross upon ones door yet, the GP lackeys of government all sit with books behind them. Government propaganda again and if there is ‘dissension amongst the ranks’ your virus will meet you one dark night. Those who protest the virus are there to prove one is allowed democratic rights for now anyway. But be sure to know New World order is here Boris Johnson just hasn’t found the right style as yet perhaps look to China for the social credit model…oh do not put ideas in heads.

We Go Alone

So into the depths, we go alone nothing else but that was revealed on a bleak day and the snow fell and fell till it filled the sky as high as it could ready for readjustment day, and in the meantime, the doors of the houses remained shut forever. It seemed to be the streets were as scarce as they could be even imagination was dead and the ears didn’t reach the brain are we now all but dead, have we enough life to see again we didn’t know the time and broadcast because it is also dead only a faint tick could be added that would stop it. Had hell won, we will have to wait in our cocoons will we become as cloned drones when the snow melts as it should in a thousand years. The secret saucer in the meantime returned to mars for the adepts interplanetary conference and a fellow Warrior of Poetry shall join them.

Traffic Light Tarts

Traffic light tarts are not what you think. They are by my side, an edible spectrum of yum and bright colour. I can’t eat them fast enough my appetite is high, what are they but of course jam tarts. I’m now eating green to go.

Give Me The Time

I’ll buy the license if you give me the time, its a long shot but I need to get out of here heads are cloudy, and much rain like all our troubles it flows to the drain and to the subterranean manifestation.

Beneath our feet known as the hell’s the tilt is on and I’m sliding His I cannot stop I’m descending I’m hoping the flame of dragons will fire me out and a lesson learned never be tempted by savory evils or you too will be swallowed up.