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.



You Shooting Stars


Feeling hopeless and helpless

Left alone feeling selfless

Aren’t reasons to feel

That your life doesn’t help us.


‘Cause you matter so much

And your matter is such

That nobody can take it

In their own selfish clutch.


When the time comes you’ll know

Just like arrow and bow

That you were meant to shoot

To the stars – ever glow,


You may live to suffer

And if it gets all the tougher

Then please just remember

Together we grow.


Don’t let go.


Under Covers


It just might

be undercover;

human dust-mites.


Disapproving mother

makes

forbidden lovers

play more like animals

in the heat

under their collars.


Our symbiotic

shapes

feeling – just right.


The feeling smothers

you uptight

– breathing in –

water fountains and lakes

within bed covers.


Horizontally upright.

No bearing grudges

or bearing down upon

the breaks

when the love’s right.


There’s no trust like

it with anyone

else or any others;

this is our

glorious mistake

and this is what

love

really looks like.


We are always

shining bright together,

shining love’s light.


Even into old age,

our last chapter

and our

intertwined fates

remain forever…


We were right

to be undercover;

even after…

human dust-bites.


Gules, argent and azure


Gules, argent and azure;

Is it really worth fighting for?

A folded flag on your coffin door;

Is it really worth dying for?


If you took the troops & civilians

Who were murdered by war

They’d measure in millions

They rest in peace?! Or at all?!


Cause the peaces don’t match

And the peace is a puzzle

War’s an itch you can’t scratch

A rabid dog you can’t muzzle


They’re inextricably linked

Dead civilian, dead soldier

Both should be extinct

But grow older and older


And younger and younger

There’s no ageism in bloodshed

But the greedy warmonger

Sees £ signs coloured blood-red


War is a game of power

99 percent of us lose in

Don’t choose graveside flowers

Cannon fodder’s not for chews-ing


Gules, argent and azure;

Is it really worth fighting for?

A folded flag on your coffin door;

Is it really worth dying for?


Remember the Peace


On Armistice Day I’ll ask of you this

With the poppy you’ll wear

To commemorate the long list

Of young men dead – with care.


Of those we have mourned

Yearly, since nineteen-forty-five

Other pieces of Peace we have scorned

Saving countless peoples lives.


War in proximity that always relates

Is that Troubled area over the strait.

What else could we do? Celebrate?

A peace process since nineteen-ninety-eight.


And there is a list over there

Long and left without.

No clover? Nor poppy? Or something altogether more fair.

Still, Peace worth remembering without a doubt.


So when you wear a poppy.

To remember.


Or choose not to.

To remember.


Try to remember.

Those slain and lost.


In the bitterness of November.

Remember the Peace and what it cost.


Dove of Peace


From a room inside your mind

Never mind the lack of room

As the room you hope to find

On the inside of your head.


Because outside that vital place

Is without you, no longer vital

Because within yourself is grace

And outwardly your wings to spread.


Misunderstood so lately

And often only by yourself

But to others matters greatly

Through your justness dearly held.


You put your trust in others

And they only let you down

But you rode the lonely buffers

Without a grimace or a frown.


And you stand before the world

Knowing your true self post-defame

And you tamed the downward spiral, swirl

Understood your self and name.


Callum – dove of peace

Peaceful dove that hopes to give

Enough at least to teach

How understanding helps us live.