Don’t, just, be a star. Become a galaxy.


I’m often, mentally, brought to my knees, with melancholy, when I think, of, the utter callousness, of, the human species.

My cerebellum’s, figurative, grey, grazed patellae are; a metaphor, which compound the pleading, within my mind, for mankind to stop, and, think.

Think about our selfish, greedy, unflinching nature.

Think about our incredible lack of foresight. Foresight, for not only our fellow genus, but, the wider amalgam, of; wildlife, biodiversity, planetary ecology, and, ultimately, our world, and, universe.

Our arrogance, and, sense of self, have become, our own baited, foolish, avaricious universes.
Solitary, loathsome universes, filled with;
galaxies of material wishes,
solar systems of Internet based gratification,
constellations of exploitation,
and, nebulae that beckon fruitless, divisive competition.

All in the hope of ‘getting ahead’ and/or ‘becoming a star’.

Ironically, we are all composed, of; stardust.

And, on that basis, I believe that we should do everything, humanly possible, to create our own; galaxy of justice – here on Earth.

A galaxy, where, instead of compete for monetary wealth, (a practice which has long seen; each, and, every genius star, capable of contributing any egalitarian offering to humanity – “miraculously” being snuffed out by the establishment e.g. Nikolai Tesla etc.) we, lift one another up, amasse, and, unite – within our; ninety-nine-percent nebula.

By eradicating, the elitist; Black Hole, we, together; can create real, monumental change. The kind of change, which will, echo, throughout; the generations, heavens, realms, and, multiverses.

Whilst standing idly by, the so-called ‘elites’ will continue to;
imbibe our misery,
bathe in our systematic poverty,
mop up any hope of our revolution,
and, spew propaganda, via every form of media, to poison the minds of; every generation, it has the manical pleasure of tainting.

The time is now to; expand our minds, gravitate to one another’s plight, and, escape, revolt, and destroy; the elitist Black Hole, which delights in our unchained servitude.

Don’t, just, be a star. Become a galaxy.



The tumbling fall, death, and, rebirth of human consciousness


There is a grave disease, that has impregnated, and, perpetually attacks, the homo-sapien mentality. Far superior, in ailing humanity, than any pandemic.


That disease, is; an inflated sense of self.


Egocentrism.


A diseased religion; of the self. Symptomatic of, a human valuing only itself, as the God of self-governance, within its own, myopic, dogma of ego.
A distinct regression has occurred, from, a psyche, looking outward, via empathy, to glean, an understanding, of one another. Instead, there is a; reductive, skewed, inhumane view, looking solely inward, through a selfish, blinkered, and, uncharitable lens. Used purely, to, aggrandise; self-worth, self-gain, and, self-achievement.


Human pride, and, arrogance, have erupted. Risen, to such a towering height, that they now pose, a daunting, grandiose cliff-face, from which, mankind is destined to, regrettably, tumble. For too long, societal; apathy, indifference, and, disillusionment, have been the leash, which has guided, the distracted masses, toward humanity’s fateful plummet.


Where once there was humility, now, there is conceit. Where once there was kindness, now, there is avarice. Where once there was compassion, now, there is callousness. The time has come, for mankind to, finish it’s freefall, from the lofty cliffs of narcissism. And, finally, be strewn, across the jagged rocks, of cosmic justice.


Human-beings, have taken it upon themselves, to, place their material, carnal, and, gluttonous desires, above all else. Above their fellow kin, above the sanctity of the planet, and, above, even, the Creator of the universe. Only, in the destruction, and, rebirth of, the sapient’s; feeble, corrupted, disconnected mind, can the Creator, and, the cosmos, begin to impart: true knowledge. Restoring, in the process; the nurturing nature of mother Earth, and, humanity’s, capability for; community, compassion, empathy, and, philanthropy.


Zero mercy, or, sympathy, should be alotted, to anybody, complicit, in the detriment of; society, the planet, and, the cosmos. The establishment’s system of finances, greed, and, promotion of hoarding worldly possessions, as well as, the spineless, ignorant silence of the masses, have become; tainted, golden, toxic tokens. Poisonous ducats, which have paid, for our doom, via; mortal, collective, and, deceptive hubris. We, humans, deserve, nothing less, than to pay, the ultimate price, for our cowardice, and, complicity, when faced with the forces of; wanton, globalist, and, dominative evil.


As a sentient being, doing nothing at all, allows; the lie to become the truth, the struggle to become the status quo, and, hatred to become the usurper of love.


A drastic change, needs to occur within our own, collective consciousness. We must, realise, these material trappings, for what they are. A temptation; a bribe; to tame the spirit, and, suppress the soul. We must obliterate them, along with, the divide, and, conquer tactics, which, only, serve to subjugate, and, seperate us.


Only, then, can we, collectively; restore, and, channel, the force of good, and, ruefully, dismantle, the force of evil.



A message from Gaia.


Where did all the compassion go?
Is it lost; in the Sun’s, ashen glow?
Is it locked; in hearts, that unfasten, slow?
Please, find it, and, return it to Me.


I talked to My Brother;
testy Ares,
His rage spoke of Him watching,
Me burn, convulse and freeze.
He saw those smothering,
fleshy fairies,
self-caged, hate-soaked, plotting,
with yearned pulse, for Me, to seize.


My Sister; loving Aphrodite, too,
cried, agonised,
weeping, at human destruction,
Her dusty tears, made clouds of ash.
Her vista turning, grey, from blue,
My blackened eyes,
from bloody knuckles, of consumption.
Unjust; I fear; gnawing fists, unabashed.


I heard My Siblings, both, and vowed,
never again,
to become, abused and broken,
enduring an insane plight, scared,
and, rid Myself, of this parasite.
This poison growth, is overproud,
severing Men,
will leave Me bruised, yet, awoken,
from an inhumane nightmare,
and, back, to health, and joy, and light.


Where did all the compassion go?
Is it lost; in the Sun’s, ashen glow?
Is it locked; in hearts, that unfasten, slow?
Please, find it, and, return it to Me.


Relief, awaited.


When dodecahedron bombs fall;
will you be my buried and sturdy shelter?
When cohesion is trodden to asphalt;
would you wage pitched and bloody welter?


Breakfast,
served at his majesty’s pleasure, often ladles out food for thought…
The menu – provides;
convicts, politicians, businesspeople, and, royalty,
with plenty to discuss…
Such as, ‘do the high and mighty ever dream of tasting prison porridge, as they commit high crimes, whilst they starve and cull the poor?’
And, ‘can beggared worms chew through royal lead-lined coffins from a dead beggar’s ulcered stomach sores?’ Yet, what lies in the unasked? The public inquiry into corrupt power, like lunch, awaits.


Relief without a branch
to cling to. Bare, shaken,
but, also, beyond agonising
disbelief. Avalanche met Alpine
Firs; a collage of bitter viridescence – often mistaken,
as, not life, but, death, imitating art.


What a relief!!
That’s the “good stuff”;
the pinprick and the poison-pill…
The Medicine Men have long traded in shady deals,
of jabs and hooks,
wearing labcoats lined with vaccined, pain-killing schemes.
Patiently making case studies of us all,
all the while,
toasting, our declining health,
along with silent, complicit and sickly governments.
Sláinte!


Encrypted night;
puzzling and studious, awaits
us all,
along with an unshrinking denial,
a half-blinked eye,
a non-thinked; why?
And, a nihilistic sigh. It is all, so…
insalubrious.


Awaited relief of a final breath when no more lies can be proferred no more lines can be crossed or excuses offered no more questions unanswered no more victims no more cancers no more derision and pain due to another’s conceited vision and gain no more losers no more winners no more abusers or willers of forgiveness.


Just peace; unreplicated.


And, relief, no longer, awaited.


When dodecahedron bombs fall;
will you be my buried and sturdy shelter?
When cohesion is trodden to asphalt;
would you wage pitched and bloody welter?


Where are ye, Robin Hoods?


Where are ye, rebels?

Ye, Robin Hoods?

Who robs the rich to feed the poor?

Who traverses the bleak, uneven levels,

to rid the bad and keep the good?


Cap of Lincoln green,

a sight long unseen,

Nottingham archer’s

bow,

and, steely arrow.


The poor man’s dream

of outlaw heroes seem,

broken, from the

bone,

unto the marrow.


Who dares be rebels?

Be Robin Hoods?

To replace, replenish, restore?

To reverse the cycle of Avarice’s pedals,

and, stand up for the misunderstood?


Marian, like life, is no longer fair.

There are no merry men.

John has all but been destroyed,

he’s;

bereft, bemused, belittled.


Enduring strife with every breath of air,

should you suffer it again?

When will our children’s simple joys,

bequeath;

retribution in every giggle?


We are the rebels!

We, Robin Hoods!!

We must rise, revolt, make war!!!

Dampen the spirits of those greedy devils,

who bathe in pauper’s bloods.


Robin Hood statue outside of Nottingham Castle

Panderer’s Box


With uppercut and jab and hook,

a heavy wait, a title took,

each ring-ed bell

the blows were struck,

the nip and tuck, each step and duck…

Deeper and deeper into Hell.


Valiant defeat makes prideful gain

when they bayed for blood,

bawled and cried his name.

And on the spot the gladiator stood,

unsteady to decide again…

A moment wished it stayed for good

to cut the loss and shy the shame.


For, a panderer’s box once opened

leaves the politicians all unscathed

and the pugilist a hero; lonesome –

our punching bag, body, face.


Yes, a panderer’s box once opened

leaves the one percent much richer

and the common man – betokened –

with recipes for ailing, bitter.


Mass Hysteria


Listening

to car tyres screech

on dust encrusted

tarmacadam;

gristle’s twin.

A street pastor’s speech

from pavement pulpit

as Eves and Adams

grimace within.


Mysterious

one-sided telephone

conversations – brush the air;

painting; polyglottal prisoners.

History is

forever rewritten – prone

to vacating

…forgetting it was even there.

St. Folly’s got new parishioners;

Mass Hysteria.


Orthodontic

is the undercurrent;

sautéed commuter,

parboiled carriage.

Neurotic

masticating servants

enslaved inside computers;

cyber-cabbage

crunched caustic.


Over the nest, free;

Cuckoo-faced;

One flew. Pidgins

peck at plastic cups

with a hope to digest

commerce.

Cardiac arrests meet

fate-laced

rued derision.

Plastic and corrupt:

un-laminated life we lament

in a dot-com hearse.


Overtly oppressed, we

praise avarice and fame;

and our new religion

of Selfishness,

teaches us to self-destruct.


The cost of living


As the final autumn leaves

Blanket the pavement beneath my feet

I’m reminded of tears of grief

Falling from hungry children’s cheeks.


In the guise of a vulture

Autumn austerity circles overhead

Eviscerates community and culture

Dining on poverty-stricken dead.


They call it a cost of living crisis

But when you take more than you’re giving

That’s a loss of giving crisis

And a sin there’s no forgiving.


Greedy guts


A glimmer

A memory of a memory

The flash of a camera bulb

As the anorexic chance gets slimmer.


Forgotten

Yesterday’s news is buried treasure

And X barks the dog

And the dog eats itself; rotten.


Avarice

Is devouring a banquet feast

Set out in front of a rough sleeper

Too famished to throw a fist.


Cupidity

Hunting with arrows for more

Material or maniacal power prêt à manger

Sustained solely by stupidity.