Biden’s Reset

 

Biden’s Reset

Razor wire and national guard,

surround your buildings, every yard,

and why is that do you suppose,

cause’ U.S. government won’t disclose.

Except to say there’s terrorists,

domestic monsters who exist,

a war now on its residents,

by Joe the U.S. president.

But don’t you question what they do,

you’ll be labeled terrorist too,

don’t wear your colors, tempt your fate,

in front of those that churn and hate.

Perhaps its more than what you think,

as money dries from fed-ral ink,

for crash that’s coming to the state,

now seen in products that inflate.

No money for the U.S. street,

except for banks and all who cheat,

people thrown, now under bus,

reductions in their stimulus.

and then there’s reset by cabal,

Joe Biden’s team supports it all,

perfect timing, while divided,

through the coup that they provided.

----------------------------------------

The Activist Poet

Note: I prefer to get straight to the point...people in the USA really need to wake up and unite before it's too late...it's not just the American people that goes down by this, but people in every country connected to the US dollar. Only the American people that can solve this major problem...if you don't understand, stop watching mainstream news programs and research what is actually going on in the world. The Lockdown currently being imposed throughout the "Western World" is on purpose which is part and parcel to the economic cartels ending of the old bankrupt economic system with the US reserve currency and replacing it with one that is not. The economic Cartel who owns all the major corporations and banks have bailed themselves out leaving the people of the USA holding the bag. That goes double for every other nation that owes vast amounts of money to the private banks.

A Long and Winding Road

 

A Long and Winding Road

As whispers break the silent dawn,

and shadows fall, before us gone,

uplifting sense the hearts embrace,

removing sadness from your face,

The path is safe, the mind is clear,

removing hurdles and your fear,

for in reflection of below,

the same above that’s all aglow.

To pass now from this ancient world,

in light ahead that now unfurls,

the gifts retained that were bestowed,

resumes the long and winding road.

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SFBrennan

The Smile on Your Face

 Photo Credit: We Care @ Global Experts

The Smile on Your Face

It’s hard to read the real you,

behind a mask we cannot view,

your eyes reveal all the noise,

the anger’s written in your poise.

If noisy life becomes too much,

remove your mask, ignore the fuss,

take deep breaths to fill your mind,

with truthful thoughts that do not blind.

Leave it off, give em the finger,

reverse the noise, let it linger,

walk away with happy embrace,

so all can see your smiling face.

------------------------------------

SFBrennan

Doctors & Professional: Proof Masks Don’t Work

The Braonan Tribe of Idough

 

The Braonan Tribe of Idough

We come from the lands of Idough,

Braon, we the Celtic gods of war,

the descendants of king Cearbhall,

and the castle on river Nore.

Defenders of land and people,

rolling hills upon the moor,

the grand kingdom of Ossory,

where we battled the banes of Thor.

Victories over the Vikings,

Brennan valiance became the yore,

with victory over the Normans,

the earls of Orman joined our lore.

Tanistry kept all deeds and titles,

our Celtic culture and our shore,

the gift of sight and clarity,

passed from generations before.

Today we hang onto our past,

though we hold our lands no more,

we celebrate that we’re alive,

and the nation that we'll restore.

--------------------------------

SFBrennan

Authors Notes: Cearbhall is pronounced Carroll

Braonan is pronounced Brennan (O’Brennan is the same family name)

The ancestors of the Brennan family are thought to have arrived in Ireland in the 5th century B.C. and settled in Northern Kilkenny shortly after the time of Christ.

The ancestors of the Brennan’s were Christianized before the arrival of St. Patrick by their own bishop, “Ciaran of Saiger”.

The Brennan’s are all descended from “Cearbhall” (Pronounced – Carroll), the most famous king of Ossory. Through various political machinations, he ended up as the King of the Vikings in Ireland in 873 A.D.

Cearbhall's son, named Braonan founded the Brennan’s of Idough,

Named after Braon, the Celtic god of war, also means a raven who delights in battle.

Tanistry was the Celtic way of passing on deeds and titles.

When the Normans invaded in 1100, the Brennan's partnered with the Butlers, earls of Ormond and held their lands.

In 1617 King James granted Francis Edgeworth a large part of Brennan land, the Brennan’s refused to budge.

In 1637 their lands sold to Christopher Wandesforde the Brennan’s then revolted,

Took part in the rebellion in 1641, besieging castlecomer and drove the English away.

During negotiations to return their lands to them, King Charles was killed by Cromwell, who devastated all of Ireland but the Brennan’s refused while still occupying their lands (illegally)

By 1680 several Brennan’s became robbers and the most famous bandits in Ireland.

They were further outlawed for fighting in Irelands Jacobite army and lost their legal claim to their ancestral lands in 1695 but remained as tenants…

---------------------------------

Song: “Brennan on the Moor”

The noted eighteenth-century highwayman, “Willie Brennan, made the Kilworth mountains near Fermoy in County Cork his preserve. Like Robin Hood, Brennan shared his loot with the poor, and again like Robin Hood, recruited his confederates from men who had beaten him at his own game. His career ended on the gallows in 1804. Irish broadsides, copied by the London ballad press were taken up by folk singers in Ireland, England, and America…

Pleasing Moments of the Dream

 

Pleasing Moments of the Dream

Asian pears and jasmine tea,

the subtle sounds of poetry,

strings of music on the sea,

golden visions there to be.

Sunrise, sunsets, golden rain,

dancing on the window pane,

yellow reds in bright champagne,

light the shadows of my domain.

Country scenes that deify,

snow capped mountains, apple pie,

snow geese gathered in the sky,

watching closely just nearby.

The colored leaves of autumn trees,

scent of birchbark on the breeze,

mists of cinnamon to appease,

in ocean spray from the seas.

Impressions of blue boulevard,

hues and thoughts of dear Asgard,

dreamlike paintings to regard,

Renoir, Monet, and Girrard.

Peaceful scenes that always mend,

conversations with a friend,

blessed memories to attend,

moments treasured that transcend.

-------------------------------------

SBrennan

Notes: Asgard is the home to the Aesir tribe of gods

Blue Boulevard (Pictured Above) is one of the impressionist paintings Thomas Kinkade created under the pseudonym of Robert Girrard.

Homeless

 

Homeless

We come from different backgrounds,

with a variety of reasons,

we’ve learned the values of street sense,

especially in colder seasons.

There are no fluffy illusions,

when you’re sleeping on the street,

survival becomes an instinct,

from the reaper you want to cheat.

Society frowns upon us,

even though we were once the same,

for us survival is basic,

in this corporal mortal game.

Lessons grim, learnt on the streets,

so arduous hard and painful,

but understanding savoir faire,

will save you from those disdainful.

It’s safer if you find your tribe,

intuition should serve as guide,

for someone known will have your back,

when living on the edge outside.

We’re better able to handle it,

once we’ve been here for awhile,

but those without life’s pegging stick,

survival becomes a trial.

----------------------------

By: The Activist Poet

About this Poem: As the economic system collapses, greed and inflation have struck community like an explosion. Housing is no longer affordable for tens of millions of people throughout North America and Europe which are claimed to be first world countries. Houses are not affordable to the majority while rentals more and more have been taken over by for profit corporations with requirements to wall street. Rents have skyrocketed more than the average wage earned. There are millions of homeless people on the streets while millions more are heading in the same direction as the economic collapse intensifies…it will not end well for many, as the western world heads for third world status…the private banks, Wall Street, corporate interests and your governments are responsible for it, not an invisible flu virus. COVID lockdowns are the last phase of economic destruction by an out-of-control greedy cartel of wealthy corporate banking families. Depopulation is also a big part of their class warfare agenda which should be clear to many by now…

The economic system has been collapsing since the 1970’s but accelerated in 2008 after the housing bubble burst and exposed the fraud and corrupt nature of the banking system. Today we are in the final stages of their corruption while sitting dangerously on the cusp of total economic collapse and it wont change direction any time soon. Not until we change the way money works and who controls that direction. Being destitute, homeless and hungry are not the signs of a caring governance. If you have never experienced poverty, then living on the streets will be very hard for you.

Mask Holes

 

Mask Holes

Consumed by fear, from what was told,

that death is coming with the cold,

they give up freedom of the fold,

unleashing tyranny uncontrolled.

Common sense has lost its place,

as diapers cover half our face,

and here’s an extra just in case,

to wash our minds without a trace.

What’s the game and what’s the goal,

and WHO decides who’s in control,

that masks are better for your soul,

even though they’re full of holes.

And when you wear them for awhile,

to hide your frown or hide your smile,

the lungs congest to cough its bile,

but don’t complain it’s just a trial.

Don’t sneeze or cough in your disguise,

you’ll only show and publicize,

and scare to death, by your surprize,

the mask-holes you have traumatized.

Masks don’t protect us from the flu,

the holes are wider, it goes through,

but someone makes a buck or two,

and always adds to revenue.

-------------------------

The Activist Poet 

About this Poem: Are Face Masks Effective? Here’s the evidence they are not.

Freedom of the Press on Trial

 

Freedom of the Press on Trial

“You see all those people down there?”

Yes, there were twenty to condemn,

“Request permission to engage,”

“Light em up and fire on them!”

As the people ran for their lives,

blood thirsty bastards were in glee,

and brought their guns on little ones,

as they tried to run and flee.

The horror of the scenes that day,

the crimes of pure insanity,

were passed from Manning to Assange, 

revealed to all humanity.

Just one of millions in Iraq,

where massacres occurred each day,

a country that’s now in ruins,

by criminals who need to pay!

Today a man is held in fear,

in prison for doing his work,

for reporting major war crimes,

the establishment went berserk.

They pulled him from an embassy,

violent crimes against his rights,

threw him in a U.K. prison,

under orders to extradite.

American politicians,

and their sociopathic core,

are preying on human freedoms,

like the villainous gang of four.

Billions spent on the C.I.A.,

the grease for Julian’s capture,

British collusion with Uncle Sam,

not seen since Margarite Thatcher.

Or was it labors Tony Blair,

with the bloody hands of George Bush,

who started all the foreign wars,

by a BP Mobil push.

Speech that screams of western values,

are bathed in rivers of blood,

ignored by corporate media,

that act like Elmer Fudd.

Still the criminals cling to power,

the media backs their play,

while pushing for extradition,

the murderers get away.

Freedom of the Press in tatters,

governments with dirty fingers,

judge’s side with criminal minds,

the callous stink still lingers.

All activist streams now censored,

social platforms showing their hand,

you’re about to lose your freedoms,

if you do not make a stand.

Collateral murder now hidden,

freedom of speech on trial,

still held in a UK prison,

with authorities in denial.

-----------------

By: The Activist Poet

About this Poem: Reporting the truth is not a crime, in fact, to not report a war crime when you know about it is considered a crime as stated from the final judgements and outcome of the Nuremberg Trials after World War II. UK and US officials are not above this law!

The Press is supposed to keep governments in check especially when crimes are committed…that is the duty of the press. Bradley Manning and Julian Assange did the right thing but got punished for it. In fact, Julian Assange is still being severely punished for doing what the mainstream press refused to do, report the facts and keep governments feet to the fire. The monsters that waged a false war and occupation of Iraq are free and have NOT been prosecuted for their war crimes or crimes against humanity, nor has any government official exposed by WikiLeaks releases to the public, been arrested for their criminal behavior. 

It’s time to right the Wrongs! Free Julian Assange and prosecute the US & UK War Criminals and all those responsible for Julian’s incarceration, torture and inhuman detention.

Ethan McCord Speaks Out

Video: Ethan McCord: Incidents Like 'Collateral Murder' Happen Almost Daily in Iraq

From Christine Assange: This is what 10 years of persecution has done to my son, multi-award journalist Julian Assange

Detained years without charge, denied fresh air, exercise, sun/vitD, proper medical/dental care & psychologically tortured

Now chronically ill, in pain & traumatized

 #FreeAssangeNOW

Collateral Murder

The Ire of Lies

 

The Ire of Lies

That gnawing rumble beneath my feet,

has grown in size now week after week,

with impaling hooks, the noise does bring,

my head won’t clear of this forceful thing.

This ball of anger, molten in fears,

has slowly risen over the years,

it’s made of outrage, anger and rock,

it can’t be defused nor can it be blocked.

Their snowball of lies consumes my mind,

with bad intent to render me blind,

until one day gall turns to ire,

compacts with rage and turns to fire.

Revolution then comes to the streets,

with a class war started by the elites,

but heads will roll now for their crimes,

no place to hide in these dire times.

Twilights Dawn

 

Twilights Dawn

Spirits gather at twilight’s dawn,

to breathe in visions that are drawn,

on autumn shores where winter stays,

by foggy air that casts its haze.

Reflections mirror in the dew,

on frosty branches pale and blue,

as rolling waters faintly hum, 

with weeping elders that succumb. 

A soothing sigh shine’s from above,

enticing coo from morning dove,

that ripples gently on the pond,

embracing praises of its bond.

Ice winds coat the bramble weeds,

and all that hide among the reeds,

along the rivers painted streams, 

that tuck away into my dreams.

--------------------------

The Looming Year (2021)

The Looming Year (2021)

As the clocks tick down this fraudulent year,

governed media continues their fear,

corona virus is deadlier now,

confirmed by fraudulent tests somehow.

The P.C.R. test is a proven fake,

as told by the doctors who are awake,

yet still all government positions hold,

that lockdown is needed for common cold.

As the global lockdown then progresses,

governments pass new laws on excesses,

non essential items, like cloths and shoes,

are strictly forbidden, purchase refused.

Again, small business is under attack,

yet only a few have the will to Fight back,

because of the fines that governments impose,

are too damned expensive to pay or oppose.

A pretentious new strain called C twenty-one,

will play on your fears, a vicious rerun,

but what they want is to force you to take,

their deadly vaccines which are a mistake.

Inoculations that play with your genes,

to sterilize people with their vaccines,

or neural damage which can’t be reversed,

loading your body with toxins dispersed.

The crash is coming, been planned all along,

where they’ll take what you own, like Mao Zedong,

when everything stops, including the lines,

the shops and food stores will be in decline.

Around the whole world, the crash will take hold,

tensions will mount as depression unfolds,

the food that’s in export will not leave the docks,

unbalanced markets will bring down the stocks.

A plague of famine will then hit the earth,

their planning unfolds to show what you’re worth,

depopulation, controlled by a meme,

they’re playing God in this sinister scheme.

But even then, their lockdowns wont cease,

they’ll keep you locked up, enforced by police,

the beatings they render, fines they impose,

will hinder protests by all who oppose.

Business collusion will see your rights fade,

your freedoms will burn by censorships made,

and when they have won, you’ll be on your knees,

all because of a cough and a sneeze.

But there’s a solution, one we can make,

stand up and refuse their reckless mistakes,

refuse their vaccines, don’t make a deal,

take back control of the power they steal. 

The country is yours not some corporations,

stand up and fight and take back your nations,

restructure the lines that feed just the few,

and change all the laws to see it all through.

A critical time our countries do face,

its total destruction, that won’t leave a trace.

the future depends on what you will do,

think on it wisely for the days are but few.

-------------------------------------------------

The Activist Poet - (First Draft)

About this Poem: Speaks for itself...and most of the OECD world. 

Here are a few links for others to check out.

The P.C.R. deception

Masks and the Manufacturing of Consent

87 Thousand Doctors and Nurses come out against COVID-19 & Vaccine

The Great Barrington Declaration (Signatures)

Suspicions grow that nanoparticles in Pfizer’s COVID-19 vaccine trigger rare allergic reactions

The Future of Vaccines

Nano particles in Vaccines

The Minstrel

 

The Minstrel 

I am the astral traveller, 

a rebel just visiting here, 

in a land of the unliving, 

where community lives in fear. 

I’m the minstrel of the music, 

a curser of the mainstream wrongs, 

I cater to all the artists, 

for their stories, their truth, their songs. 

I bring tidings of a future, 

I unlock secrets of the past, 

I chip away at the torus, 

that’s negative and meant to last. 

I’m the minstrel of the forest, 

I’m a rebel that sings the news, 

I’m an outcast from foundations, 

for I bring alternative views. 

----------------------------------

About this Poem: One of my Pen Names is “Minstral”

“Minstral” is my new age pronunciation of Minstrel.

A minstrel was a medieval musician who traveled across Europe performing story filled songs that included news from distant places. They were kind of like news castors that traveled to local Inn’s before the printing press. And of course, when the minstrel strolled into town, everyone would gather at the Inn, where he / or / she stayed, to listen to live music and the news they would bring from their travels. Back then, it was how the people learned the news from far away places, or what their governments were up to ;)

I’m a modern day “Minstral” and activist deeply emerged into the underground music scene around the World. World United Music is my vat of songs, and poetry is my interpretation of life.