Does the earth have feelings?
if so is it aware of human life upon it.
Does earth feel pain or have knowledge of strain put upon it?
Maybe you or I are not to know, as the snow in wintertime hides the sound of a burdened groaning earth .
Tag: Tory
Time Was Running Out
The arrogance of control was living on, above the ground, the poverty was draining the relatives still looking for a lifebelt with a crock of gold in the middle.
Time was running out so was patience, the survivors took the graveyard rubbing hardened lichen from weather worn wobbly stones and there it stood, as I speaking aloud.
It is here, all you are seeking, I am the mystery relative, dead but a saviour nonetheless you will find the box of an unknown uncle the contents inside the brazen husk will unlock all you requirements forever, it is called hell.
A Clean Sheet Before You Go
Accountable for your extremes now you’re in a sweat the last week, write it down, how many times did you run away.
Write your sins down the clock is ticking you cannot ask your parents for they are but dead and the rest of us are dying, you want a clean sheet before you go, I am panicking god has given me the final cathartic challenge to clear my sins, to save the soul.
There are now four days to go and the clock is ticking, tick tock, my head on the block Jesus Christ avoid hell, what did I say the inquistion arrived in the last days .
John & Pancreatic Pete Ride Again Que The Music…
Brazier under the canal bridge flaming holes fiercely flaming pluto John and pancreatic Pete sit as meditating beings of a kind… road kill rabbit rolling on an abstract metal rod flame head billowing from a redundant oil barrel, bright the shadowy duo poking the urgent flames with intent, they are hungry beyond any food banks.
The charmed simplistic brotherhood of the fire keeps a talking culture alive in the reality of poverty, permeation so disengaged from an expanding world of White Diamond and Eight Ace lager, taking over there one known world that is burning itself out, as they gaze at the final flames under a canal towpath bridge with the sound of faint but audible friendship . Pissheads, happy pissheads, causing no harm to mobody, rule Britainia.
The Unseen God Must He Answer
God the spaceman, god the alien, god and the world. A world and a recipe, setting the scene.
Wide world and mean air was crystal lungs filled with pure air, a hunter gatherer sticks and stones, fire and brimstone warmth and light, understanding all elements living within the sphere world, however intended now ruled by violence.
Dominant types within spaces unity and poverty no more individual desperation portions of doom, under a dimming sun and hazy skies, downcast days the grey lid of clouds that hide the poor who are poked and prodded in hidden enclaves, in foulest degradation and ridicule.
Must the unseen god now answer for much faithless misery in the downcast days.
Mason Cult .