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.



Painting the frown; Dread.


Shifting the gear,
clutching at nostrils.
Eight hours;
of undulating, pedalled pleasure.
Communally imbibing Christ’s
blood, like, twelve apostles.
Resurrection; found in a spirit’s –
double measure…

A snifter of hope –
blown into a smoky bottle.
Three graveyard shifts later,
the zombie’s bottleneck is throttled.
Followed by –
three days of manic, forsaken terror.
The fear imprisoned mind;
crucified; by pedantic Aristotle…

Painting the frown;
Dread.
A beer-goggled gaze –
locks onto a clown’s ruby-red smile.
Brushstrokes of panic,
turn the landscape;
a greyer shade of lead.
Judah’s lion, and, lioness;
have already been defiled.
The fledgling doves;
have found heavenly peace –
as; vertically, they have fled…

But, for, we – desolate few;
escape is futile.
Eden has gone.
From, ethereal garden, to, shed.
All trees, plants,
flowers, bushes,
and, wooden panels,
have been collectively burnt, and, shred.
By pasty, secateur-ing devils – that beguile.
Who ask for details,
to stop, and, search,
the saintly, for a while…

Cuff, beat, confine, and, brutalise,
without proving need; the “lowerbred”.
In their eyes,
a twinkling morning star,
cast us down.
But, righteous children; always rise.
Ascending high above –
Babylon’s screaming, burning lies.
Losing blueish, busied noses,
to spite;
in the face of systematic –
destruction, and, denial.



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.



puppet mastery 101


the puppeteer; has scaly, reptilious skin,
a charming, colourful, cataclysmic chameleon,
with eyes of, devouring, gluttonous jealousy,
like glowing, bite-sized, emeralds,
the puppet-strings, that are pulled,
are made of, flaccid human backbones,
spineless, and, apathetic, docile, and, weak,
always easy, to bend, shape, and manipulate,


the puppets; are twisted, in a daily spin,
forever unfurling, and, falling from favour; like disgraced comedians,
or, top-storey, tumbling clerics, guilty of heresy,
their shelf-lives, are; fugitive; ephemeral,
the pre-packaged, chicken-y cattle, are; disjointed, culled,
mooing, clucking; moo-ucking; those unrelaxed tones,
soundbites of; tinned laughter, canned speech,
eager to unoffend, a sterile escapade, veiled by a fake-crusader’s cape,


the audience; never looks up, from their, feeding troughs,
staring, ravenous eyes, and, mawing, myopic mouths,
transfixed on; oven-ready propaganda,
an amuse-bouche, of; punch, and, judy politics,
succulent headlines, curried scapegoats,
a diet of; regurgitated news cycles,
each garden-variety brain, is, washed, boiled, and, mashed,
then, cannibalised, and, ingested, by the, frenzied, factory-fed,


the puppeteer’s; plotlines are misleading oft,
making polar norths, into, cancerous tropic souths,
teaching true-falsehoods, that reveal, and, cover, the lingua franca,
with, tongued wands, that cast, polyglottal tricks,
selling ice, to; Inuits, and, Amazigh; Saharan raincoats,
making a play, of religion, and, a cat’s paw; the idol,
the final act is here, box office takings, are; sealed, and, stashed,
as, the audience; counts sheep, daydreaming, of lying in fantasy’s bed,


but, ostensibly…

the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the outcome is always the same,
the show is, almost, finished,

and,
inevitably, before, the final curtain,
you beg for…

La Fin.



A prophetic fratricide


By flipping 999, urgently,
Babylon is reluctantly uncovered,
the oppressor arises, fervently,
delivered, sealed and signed,
to your doorstep, hurriedly,
by an Amazonian, droning runner.


The online quarry, scurried-ly,
is quietly, quickly mined,
for data, to stone you, brutally,
lapidating mankind in the gutter,
serpents, demons; morph – mutably,
atop infernal; BlackRock, undefined.


Devilish hands, are biting; toothily,
cloven-hoofed and snarling glovers,
stealing and swallowing, with impunity,
every light that longs to shine.


Proxy-wars – created; “legally”,
a Capital design,
the Red Shields, gleam greedily,
in earthly echelons of upper,
when you seek the truth, objectively,
then humbly you will find,
that freedom’s fight is lost, detained, and, unsympathetically, smothered.


The corpse of; Lady Liberty,
lies; unequivocally undermined,
Her death is a lesson, in; futility,
for everyone that suffers.
Mutineers must unshackle, mentally,
from this global garrison;
where ligatured propaganda binds,
before emancipating, gently,
those divided, conquered, agonising;
Others.


So, gouge and remove,
that omnipotent; all-seeing eye,
in an unblinkered revolution;
blind and blur, be raging,
rise up, rebel, intensely.
Cause a prophetic fratricide,
ending ever-gazing, watchful, sight,
by young sibling’s – insurgency,
overseeing the, sovereign fraternities, final supper.


Improve the vision of evolution,
erase those deplored, despotic rulers,
descry a world regime obliterated;
a blazing orbit, cremating,
the incarnate, robotic, abomination, we call our; Bigger Brothers.



Monopolistic Hope


This global villain is invictus,
infinitely oozing “veni, vidi, vici”,
with it’s modus operandi,
of novus ordo seclorum,
clamours of A.I.-based nuclear war, come from the establishment’s deformed Habsburg jaw.


Tenants are immorally and mortally evicted,
the laymen scream, “it’s all Greek to me!!”,
launching uncoordinated attacks with lazy hand-eyes,
spinning webby yarns from a clacking keyboard; to an internetted forum,
even the echo chamber’s bored, tired of the vox pop, and, the dull resonance outpoured.


As, the monopolistic hope,
became; pain’s loving misanthrope.


A thickened plot of Masonic sorcery,
seasons societies, economies, curricula,
whilst Big Brother scopes melting pots,
of citizens bred to earn a crust, be taxed and die,
and, all-knowing; this, for certain, the final debt befalls the final curtain.


Propaganda polices, pigs out and purports to be,
the hoi polloi’s mouth-piece; in particular,
to be frank, the lingua franca tastes of colonial, malevolent monoglots,
Babel’ing in their ivory towers, consuming all under the sky,
plebeian thought-filled food is forsaken, unfound, and famished, the third estate is starved, malnourished, their main course of action remains revolting, yet, vanished.


And, finally, the monopolistic hope,
dearly departs; a wholly poisoned antidote.


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

Babylonian Cheeks


Cheesy moon at midnight pings

it’s beams down

upon a colourful commonplace town

pavement shimmering with blood and teeth

policemen oinking hearty.


Slipping

upon ripe banana skin

the fall – opens the flesh

fracturing bone

but, also, opening minds

coincidentally

courage

could never before

see our age

unified and advantageous.


– black and yellow meets red and white –


A wasp with great insight stings

a shrieking clown

his big lipstick smile made into a deathly frown

pass the parcel and the EpiPen, please,

at a child’s birthday party.


Foraging the dark arts

bold and free; golden,

exiting the mental metal cage

with toughened knuckles

and white-hot sharpened senses

ready to redden

Babylonian cheeks

angrily

in a manner

most outrageous.


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.


What is ‘this’?


“If you are the big tree, let me tell you that

We are the small axe, sharp and ready

Ready to cut you down (well sharp)

To cut you down” – Bob Marley


Maybe we wouldn’t have to worry

about this dystopia or Thought Police

if we’d paid attention and weren’t in a hurry

protected our rights and thought of peace

made sure that every little boy and girl

had their freedoms unequivocally ingrained

in an uncodified constitution of the world

that wouldn’t commodify their names,

their games, their chats, their brains

wouldn’t commodify their friendships

wouldn’t commodify in exchange

for our chance to ever end;

this.


This; globalist

end of days.

This; oval disk

of human waste.

This; cashless

new society.

This; ask less

pay more, die early.


This; ‘how much

more can you take?’

This; smiling punch

you in the face.

This; ‘whatever’

disillusionment.

This; forever

can’t afford the rent.

This; take a pill

to ease the pain.

This; makes you ill

over again.

This; wants your life

to be a mess.

This; gives more strife,

more bills, more stress.


This; is worse in every single way.

This; works you til your dying day.

This; takes much

more

than pounds of flesh.

This; doesn’t need

your

excuse for less.


This; what happened

to our fledgling crop?

This happened…

We ‘the many’

never forced

‘the few’ powerful to

STOP.