Property – Page 7 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Ode For Xmas

It was a time of celebration when the prince defended. On time, in time amongst other times. Not seen by others in etheric spaces from the past, and in the now, from the unseen and the forever. All that ever was had gathered in the parallels that we sense but rarely see. All whosoever good or bad lived and died had gathered in the voids of presences.

This is how we are all related, at this time, settling Karmic balances on the wave of New Age discovery so Christmas has a right to be here a teasing reflective balance of imbalances the promise to right the wrongs, in cheery song of merry spirits in or out of this world all condense on the New Years eve condolences, to the passing of the past one and to prey for our Prince of Light The Master Jesus before he returns to Saturn.

The Earth & Abandoned

The earth is not beautiful anymore, every day it gets dropped it gets stained it feels the pain. The hearts of the good die by the hour with every shower that’s poured over us.

Too much, I can’t see. I wipe my eyes, I wipe your eyes. in the hope we can see the horizons without horrors and angry hate. Before its too late, before we die crash and burn in an unholy husk so lifeless when it needn’t be so.

Abandoned

Abandoned upon a wild river turning in whirlpools cast out on the flow faster more destructive mad vulnerable where will it end only natures law of end will tell the fastest escape to nothing that ever was washed up and wasted.

The Cold

The cold unforgiving beautiful trail of time through changing woodland, I walk I notice thin squirrels and over time I see them, playing to keep warm I feel that they are struggling and later that day sat down in another location. I realised the poor souls are thinner than usual I must remember that I am not above them we are equal and tomorrow I will buy them some food something to feed their thin tummies on what will be a cold and bitter day.

Political Comment Mason Cult

If you want to know what went wrong with the working class ask director Ken Loach , for donkeys years this false sense of camaraderie spewed out of the emerging television kitchen sink dramas . I would call it false romanticism all pals together fighting, warring whilst the real struggles were not properly represented or portrayed.

Where were the campaigns against slum landlords it was only when enough hardship and disease accrued that matters were taken on at the highest level and of course the countries population was not as it is now . You would find in amongst it all that the political class were as distant as they are now. It is just a perennial wheel that keeps on rolling similar iniquities throughout the land the big game changer was The Right to Buy which got the working class borrowing against property prices which is roughly where it is at now in society and the self.

Resurgent Community action that will change this country , political parties are irrelevant to most people although any policy can alter any number of lives it is no match for the final dissent of the people as in a movement an example climate activists have pushed and pushed they are now listened to at the very least the same priority should be given to any number of injustices day in day out you could in fact name it The Rebel League…

Searching

Searching for the days of Magnificent Unity amongst many disenfranchised remnants of a once tenable society, when lost in a pit of loneliness and isolation. Desperately trying to climb from slippery depth not knowing if a hand would descend to pull them to freedom they screamed and moaned.

Above all they could see, a white dot in erratic form as if something up there was trying to rebuild what had been lost. After the third world war had enough lessons, been learned for a new code of cooperation and friendliness to exist . Soon the remaining world would see, as the sides of this pit dried and those left in could at last climb out.

Blinded by the light they emerged with nothing of material value they stumbled and walked forward as instructed for a world in emergency, an Auric Beacon could be heard followed by ovals of violet etheric flames, as moving soothing fingers attempting to crawl up and down the surviving bodies.

Emerging, the beacons trumpeted hard penetrating ears and colour twirls sparking from beacons, other sound gathered up from miles around, the energy had to be consumed to be felt. Indeed the energies of rebirth had begun to heal cosmic intervention for a new world and rebirth of real and peaceful humanity had begun. Chime Ming could be heard accompanied by a sweet warm draught of perfumed air.