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.



Fifty-two lightning strikes; deserted.


Escaping,
bitter seas,
of, slippery grips,
betwixt,
waves of gritted,
inhumane hands;
are; ferocious tides,
of, untimely;
porous – reveries,
scattered notions,
of buckets and spades,
abandoned;
castles of sand.


Amongst,
searing footsteps,
of, downtrodden,
Atlas-burdened,
vanishing – caravans;
yearns; a purpose,
however, unlikely;
changing tact,
or, track?
Parting seas, or, ways?
Searching for answers,
or, the truth?
Fearing God, or, man?


Eviscerating,
the pot-bellied,
beach,
with hurled,
long-ranging bolt,
of, Zeus’,
electrifying brand;
galvanis-ing;
crack,
and, crash,
sublime-ly;
exploding;
bashful,
pock-marks,
on the coastline’s;
dusty naval,
then, birthing
mishaps,
of, misshapen,
yet, fierce; fulgurite,
a serendipitous,
by-product,
of a,
vengeful,
God’s
plan.



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.


Lost, properly


Another

night lost –

to this infernal game

of sleep. Another light lost –

to this internal

flaming

heap.


Another day, found; wanting,

ever-seeking, left

behind. Suffer

darkness;

unfounded: daunting,

ever-creeping, when in mind.


Another time or another place,

Another line on another face,

Another calm before the storm,

Another baby to be born.

Another life is another death,

Another fight for another breath,

Another want, another need,

Another plot – for which to bleed.

Another jab, another hook,

Another play – not by the book,

Another lie becomes the truth,

Another, “why?” crushed under boot.

Another step in lands of Hinter,

Yet, another long, bleak winter,

One more liberty carelessly lost,

Bitterly frozen by piercing frost.


Another

toll cost – to

the extending tarmac

adam. Another soul lost – to

the never-ending

blackened

chasm.


Another scarlet debtor, found;

humanity is justly,

repossessed.

Smothered faces

turn raging red, thrusting,

brutality; into Robin’s breast.


Do the colder months collude?


And, I wonder,

are the colder months colluding?


Would warring Winter, pause?

Could audacious Autumn, wait?


Or, does the vexed, brooding

and unruly thunder

shape the sordid

cause

of the lightning,

hale, snow and rain?


Why does the gourmand, wolfy-pack,

have to, spit,

growl, and, attack,

the Spring, and, the Summer?

Do they resent;

the clement, balmy days.

Or, just, yearn to take their place?


Mankind has reached it’s own;

November,

suffering unscrupulous mists; a fog of charging cheats,

compassion is a disillusioned ember, smothered and crushed

below;

fraught

autumnal

feet.


A stampeding fall persists,

clenched in the dying undergrowth,

of doomed and dark deceit.


So, do the colder months collude?

That remains, forever, to be

seen.


But, the human race to season, enroot, ended in; self-defeat.

Fallen;

from favour;

from grace;

gone

trees.


A final, lonely leaf of fortitude;

fell, and, lost, beyond the evergreen.


Don’t mind me


Saturated emptiness;

oozing – pickled defeat. Dripping in lamentation.

The brain became an anciently soiled kitchen sponge,

bedecked in grimy morose, and, greased dismay,

each hollow ostia – a den of distress,

forgotten chutes, where legends and ideas should spark creation.

Instead, the tale of the springy, squashing grapple with grunge;

grew into asphyxiation, at the dirt encrusted hands of Grey.


Sucking joy, from every cushioned orifice, until the overflowing

bowl became, just, dregs of despairing.

And, the dried dregs turned to a black, tarry residue; unknowing,

they are scraped – into the brimming kegs of uncaring.


But, don’t mind me;

I am the disappearing, desolate dishwater;

uncontrollably cascading down the punishing plughole of inhumanity.

And,

I was almost, nearly…

never, really…

here.


Flagellated unfriendliness;

kind words are pushed down, beaten back, whipped away.

Each harshly inspected smile – considered a smirk of contempt,

enamelled grins of violence, lipped beams of ill-will.

Wishing nothing but dental uncleanliness,

to every lip, tongue, jaw and fang on demonic display,

and, all the pains of brutal, bruising discontent

to be swallowed – by their owners, in a tiny, bitter pill.


Crushing victory in the maws of defeat; crunched bliss

is chewed and broken – into meaty, cakey pieces; devoured.

Each digested morsel a reminder of a sweet, yet, deadly kiss

from the lips and teeth of a cloying, carnivorous coward.


No, don’t mind me;

I am the forsaken crumbs; wiped away.

Wiped away from a mouth that relishes consuming the hearts and souls of those unseen, unacceptable, unfortunate ones.

And,

I was almost, nearly…

never, really…

there.


Soliloquy culled


He removed the toque

and bowed his head,

shamefully,

as though every secret,

lie and misdeed were

engraved

upon his mottled cranial tablet;

‘the writing is on the bald,

auld Apache.’

I think she meant ‘alopecia’.


She exuded smoke,

he cowed, coughed and left,

painfully,

it was the first time she’d cut

him to the core, yet, deeper,

impaled

by barbed words from her palate,

a mouth aghast, appalled,

alas, he,

never intended to aggrieve her.


Words can be weaponry, inflicting damage lasting eons.

Words can be incendiary, turning cherubs into demons.


His body, indiscreet,

every scar, mark and blemish

obtained from this unwanted life,

were, classified documents; leaked,

Sorrow’s woodpecker had been peckish,

boring holes deep, into his desperate skin of strife.


The story finished in defeat,

soliloquy culled, forced to perish,

machete thrust, from tonguing knife,

made edgy points; too sharp for cheeks,

an empty vessel, bereft, unable to replenish,

no sleep, nor soul to keep, ‘This is the end’, spoke his eyes.



Happiness, wisdom and foolish tragédies


Happiness is a forbidden fruit

when your soul consumes such grief,

the smiling, juicy, joyous flesh

makes Temptation a willing thief,

it’s often sought in seas of excess

leaving wrecks at Dependence Reef,

it can turn the sinning, wicked brutes

into patron saints of belief.

The taste of Happiness is absolute

without eating branch and leaf,

and, a tangle with despair’s wiry mesh

makes the taste that much more sweet.


Wisdom is an unwanted gift

when you think you know it all,

it hides in spirit’s plane of sight

foreseen under Sage’s shawl,

it can make ignorance feel like bliss

and, learning truth – a bloody brawl,

but, nevertheless, a worthy fight,

one worth every scarring maul.

Humility provides the lift

when pride tumbles as it falls,

and compassion reconstructs might

building bridges from crumbled walls.


This experience of all, which pervades us,

from cradle to grave and beyond,

can be unremarkable, perplexing and outrageous

once spawned in primordial pond,

this human condition exists to enslave us,

catching feelings that try to abscond,

a state which makes fallen angels our saviours,

and, breaks the chains of sacred bonds.

So, until selfish, greedy, loathsome behaviours

become unworthy, unkept, unfond,

there’ll be no happiness found in wisdom’s favours

while foolish tragédies eclipse le monde.


The storm of I


Staring out into naked abyss,

optics wander in twilight’s wonder,

stardust gleaning sacred bliss,

vision listens to silent thunder.


The universal rains lash down;

they make vast waterfalls among the heavens.

Open tear ducts; eternal, splashing down,

closed lids crashing…

down, still, always – Catch; fifteen. Then, adding seven.


The black cascade envelops all it touches,

no matter the presentation,

the make-up plumes from scarlet brushes,

have a bird’s eye view; their final destination.


This pupil set within the storm of I,

is not enlightened nor insightful.

It couldn’t see the worlds bore inside,

it’s maker, yet, remained open minded.

Until, a benevolent outlook was razored,

gouged, clawed, blinded,

at the hands of human-nature.


Behold, this glaringly undelightful,

this epidemic Myopia,

deceptive, cruel and spiteful,

this future unforeseen,

presently; apathetic and obscene,

this, ‘Forlornucopia’,

held aloft for all to see;

perpetually consuming glee;

consuming all… of you, and them, and me.