Tax – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Poetry Round Up For These Troubled Times

Boxes of Light

Boxes of white light, seven boxes of white light, seven boxes of hope and joy, seven spaces of white light in the clouds. Please stay there, please don’t rain. I don’t want the pain. I will stay you’ll never be gone and I am not done with opening doors that you walk through. With a smile I can see you and just say hello I am here, let us open our boxes of hope.

I Breathe Out

I breathe out, the breath becomes yesterday, turning the corner ah that is also yesterday it has gone, unless you walk back in time, gone and yet we are in the moment, we are upon the earth the goodness terra bequeaths us each and every day, man has a lot to learn, let us in the moment learn anew.

A Hand

A hand for every occasion put it on, and you can get it on. I mean it is your day of course, warm and convenient. A face to hand and here it comes, a dull grey face. An ugly mouth full of promise, just try him on your right hand you will soon see you’ve got your hand full, OMG man you’ve got a world to save.

Pastel Atoms

A chain of peaceful, passive pastel atoms, whispering a trail around a troubled planet. Bursting in flames and destruction. It weaves before your eyes in a vast colourless sky, we inherit from the pollution of twisted human minds. Waking up day after day, the colourful weave of atoms grows stronger in a band across the atmosphere. Wider and blindly determined to land as coloured rain from lingering clouds to land in variant forms. With new spirit on a crystal clear day to form a colony anew to reignite the purpose of new human form, as super animals no higher than a slumbering element. In a new jungle flora of wonderous fauna.

Reflections

Reflections on glass divides us with it’s shining I see others I used to know, but cannot reach out even my fingertips won’t do for there is war. Much war, humanity reaching its ends overshadowed by smoke fire and death. What is tomorrow when we won’t see the the end of this day. Is this the price to pay for evolution for God has no grace, and just in case you wonder Gods work is all around amongst the fire and hell for again this is still war as it always has been among humans who never learn

Poems Galore from the Warrior of Poetry

Heavy

Heavy upon my mind, a planet passes through in a phase. It’s over, the moment gone of fear. I now have no fear lifted away into the cosmic abyss. For I’m on the other world I’m in the hinterland, a spec upon the horizon. In yonder land as is often said. I tried to cling onto the old but each time I was there I knew I was leaving for the spirit had flown and, nothing connected. Turkers Wood my home of residence was floating away, our small island was detached and all our memories locked. Did this happen, was I there and who own this world is there any treasure buried in the soil.

Language

Language, in the texture of a sky, so vast not to read but to feel. It’s too far away to care too remote to fathom. That word is for the deep but not for the cosmos. Draw from the atmospheric platform what you desire, for it is probably the cosmic mind that calls too you.

Loose Yourself

Loose yourself feel the wind through the tunnel of transformation, beyond the new future is coming you are going to be lost at times in the unknown, what will you find I see a mother craft on a mountain side it assesses my approaching speed and estimates my threat, that is the charging vortex of me, but it is over. I am now inside, I am told I am now wanted upon Mars, and so to Mars I go onwards is the rallying call.

Dark is the Night

Dark is the night I’m in groove for flight, soon I go, I blow. I’m gone, trajectory unknown. But I land, I get out. It is warm, I walk, I await. The greeting, the acceptance. A new friend, I do believe it is an alien who approaches from yonder ridge here on another planet.

Too Much Love

Too much to love, but I don’t know how is it a secret. That I should never find or has it always been in plain sight. But afraid of the now life is not so long and the embers are trailing and barely warm. I struggle as if I’ve missed the point, was it the only saving grace we posses, above all else or have we missed this tingle inside.

Latest Audio Poems Susie Swan & My Father

Susie Swan

A short story for kids as Susie Swan saves the wood from General Snail…

My Father

This is about my father County Councillor John Wilson a native of Scale House Farm Galgate Lancaster who died in 1973 suddenly age 44 yrs wouldn’t mind it read out sometime sadly missed.

God

God preceded time, we invented divisions of time. As we evolved but we need not think of ourselves as clever, it is when one goes to sleep discovery is made being conscious in a troubled world is burdensome and extreme, we find peace somewhere else, some are yet to discover. Remember we are all transient beings much of our own invention and reinvention in a living world. No man is above another. We are driven, driven by primordial instinct. It is difficult to achieve but very easy to forget in a vortex of emotions.

Mason Cult Political Rant

In 1957, the Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan told a Conservative rally in Bedford that the people of the UK had never had it so good. It may seem as though we are more distant than ever from the days of the post-war boom, just before the swinging sixties crashed into the seventies and on to the demolition of industry under Thatcher. For example, now more than 100,000 people have lost jobs due to the impact of the government’s response to the corona virus pandemic. Young people see dreams crushed due to failings in the exam system and the prospect of a no deal Brexit is written about in the pen of the doom-mongering journalists.

Yet, I will argue that, despite the tragic trail of the virus, we have, in fact, never had such a great opportunity to reflect, rebuild and restore this country as a centre for industry and to build a much fairer and more socialist state. We need the government to commit to a policy of buying British; supermarkets to be encouraged to invest in UK produce, which is guaranteed by stringent UK quality control. Our universities have shown magnificent flair in working towards finding a vaccine for the virus and distance learning opportunities have flourished. We need to invest further into research opportunities and technology. With technology comes all the requisite sub-industries and trades. Our young people are willing to work and need apprenticeships that lead to jobs. The care sector can flourish if its staff are paid better for the hard work they undertake. Yet this renaissance needs to be centrally controlled.

Now we have left the EU and learnt how unwise it is to have a country that depends so greatly on the service sector, we can repair the damage done over the past fifty years. In 1957, we may have had a flourishing economy, but it flourished largely because nationalised services and industries formed the backbone of the economy and led to a robust infrastructure. If we aim towards the instigation of a more socialist government with a policy for egalitarian investment and nationalisation then once again, we can have it good we can have it very good indeed.