The Escalation

The Escalation 

Wars begin by envious eyes

from business ventures in demand

resource nations become the prize

for greedy interests to expand.

Detailed plans create a feeder

on the people of the nation

focus trained on foreign leader

Satan made by their creation.

Allies courted behind closed doors

where power breathes life into greed

reveal their plans for foreign shores

informing of their mutual need.

Arms are twisted behind the scenes

forcing partners to climb aboard

by economic threats and schemes

targets laid out in broad accord.

Planned diversions do then unfold

in nations fraught by envy’s eyes

insecurities then take hold

where violence begins to rise.

Outrage feigned by antagonist

tough sanctions waged and then invoked

preaching like an evangelist

escalation to war is stoked.

Depravations begin to sting

by gang of nations in a block

unrest follows by pains they bring

with coups well funded by the hawk.

Insurrection that they bankroll

calls for freedom backed with fire

divided nation is their goal

in a sea of molten ire.

Troops deployed on foreign border

mediums broadcast, threats are made

capitulate to their world order

pressures mount by war games played.

Criminal banks confirm their theft

confiscation of their assets

provokes to action with nothing left

offensive fly-by’s now with jets.

Target nation stabbed in the back

whom call to arms their motherland

they brace themselves before attack

enlarge their armory by command.

Confrontation does then ensue

outrage staged by the offender

support then sought through TV views

call to public, their defender.

Selective lies for public shock

actors plead and then implore

tough as nails in doctrine talk

to seek approval for a war.

Fabrications to bend the mind

population will acknowledge

information is all maligned

by a long false common knowledge.

Vermillion lips so flush with greed

judge and jury with their demands

crave for riches beyond their needs

deliver death to other lands.

Wars unleashed by the banking hawk

rhetoric stroked to their extremes

allies pulled in to form a bloc

nightmares unfold while future screams.

Innocent people caught between

violent conflicts and greedy schemes

with no way out of this ravine

except rebellion to their theme.

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About this Poem: In the modern age, war begins by a control of information. (Information wars). The fabrication of information and the censorship of inconvenient truths are used for the purpose of creating a false common knowledge in the public. Once the enemy has been created, a false narrative is then inserted that rhymes with the long program to strengthen the narrative against the enemy.

When a block of nations begins pushing the same narrative, a geo-political war begins to unfold through sanctions, trade wars, an arms race and then military wars. These wars can sometimes be in the guise of a proxy war, war on terror, planned insurrections, coup or assassination attempts.

It is worth noting that all wars are economic in nature where politics is an extension of economics and war is an extension of politics. In the end we must ask who benefits and what did they profit by waging their war.

Seeking Advice

 

Art By Peter Brown

Seeking Advice

I sit here in my memories

secure in the home I once knew

days that nurtured my path in life

and where my independence grew.

You molded my thoughts with challenge

were there when I needed you most

although that world we lived is gone

I’m there and conversing with ghosts.

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Spring Returns

 

Art by Andrezej Berlowski

Spring Returns

Awake, awake deep from long restless sleep

cast off your shadows from grey winters’ grief

horizons adorn, the day is reborn

with blanket of warmth to bring us relief.

The balance returns by a sun that yearns

with the seeds of life in full embrace

of crisscrossing streams and paths to our dreams

where the flurry of essence gives chase.

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Reflections

 

Painting by: Claude Monet

Reflections

The universe is here with me

where I engage its dreamy glow

reflections of the pastel sea

of all the things I’ve come to know.

This aging ship is still afloat

one more chapter in my retreat

to finish painting things I wrote

some just bitter and others sweet.

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Like a Thief in the Night

Like a Thief in the Night

A green mist billows from his steaming chalice

imbued with envy and staggering malice

his greedy intentions devour our dreams

where a beast takes form in violent regimes.

Deceitful, deceptive, a treacherous snake

with hidden objectives that cause you to break

acquiring all power to change all the rules

chicanery unfolds while appeasing the fools.

Resources claimed by the imperial hawk

while capital bleeders immerse in their stock

corruption ensues while appeasement unfolds

enslavement to debt then begins to take hold.

Burgeoning growth, abundance, prosperity

the monster unleashes his austerity

future looks bleak for the divided nation

as the debts take hold with stinging inflation.

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The Activist Poet

Refuge

 

Art by Jeff Rowland

Refuge

When the world fell apart by the steam of the trains

and the pain came down in the pouring rains

the clashes were dire malicious and fraught

upending the days when our essence had not.

We stood together to shoulder the storm

against the madness to keep us both warm

lost in each other, extensions in part

we remained intact when that train did depart.

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About this Poem: The steam of trains refers to the tyrannical governments and the powers of dictatorship used during the false pandemic between 2020 and 2022. The rain represents the dystopian atmosphere laced with fear, pain and anguish we suffered through by government mandates and a contemptuous public programmed and indoctrinated with lies.

We, my wife and I, and many others, resisted the dystopian coercion of forced mRNA inoculations despite the overwhelming injustice carried out on us during that period of time.

Forced government mandates tore families and communities apart. They waged a war on society that has not healed.

We stand with our dignity and immune systems intact, uncompromised by an evil cartel that controls all aspects of society. We remain defiant, vigilant and are determined to see justice come to those responsible...even if it takes a generation. We will never forget what they did

Ancient Warrior

 

Ancient Warrior

High bridged eyebrows, long sharp nose,

with hands clasped in Roman prose

eyes in prayer to gods below

essential for the roots to grow.

On his head abundant layers

passed down to his harvest heirs

blessings from this devotee

this ancient Roman olive tree.

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About this Poem: Written to a Photo prompt of an ancient olive tree from Italy which is over 2,500 years old

The Terran Gods and Goddesses

 

The Terran Gods and Goddesses

The silver winged messenger hurries through

his name is Mercury, trickster in hew,

for in his rush of commerce and travel

heading his words will make you unravel.

Morning star Venus, the goddess of love,

a mesmerizing beauty from above,

always close by, she outshines all the stars,

comforts the dreamers in partner to Mars.

The marching warrior and God of war,

Mars in his mood brings the battles of Thor,

direct, courageous, action and fires,

lights up the eyes with burning desires.

Earth our home where all things exist,

a fortress of life against the abyss.

Gaia’s terrain where the gods come to play,

where mercury, Venus and Mars have their say.

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In the Early Hours, I Can See

 Photo Art by Stewart Brennan

In the Early Hours, I Can See

I awoke from a dream that layered my thoughts

looking for answers my essence had sought

in the silence of darkness, calm and alone

I tried to remember what I had been shown.

I grabbed my hoodie and went for a walk

in the wee morning hours out to the dock

where a reticence of stars flickered their light

reflections on water where moon flows in white.

The shadows of evening all caught in the rise

by the first light of painting in lower skies

they connect to the universe, earth and moon

and I follow suit to bring me in tune.

Sun begins rising with its warmth on my face

while forest harmony and sounds interlace

a celebration of life does unfold

those moments on earth that the dream had foretold.

Unique understanding of minds held in tow

levels of consciousness all one in the glow

life on our planet, relies on the sun

and every star mirrors to make us all one.

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Grandma’s Premonition

 Art by Eduard Leon Cortes

Grandma’s Premonition

September tenth, nineteen thirty-nine

New York city and the worlds fair

premonition, “we have to get home”

Canada declared war over there.

Arriving home, door opens wide

Bill had already enrolled

mother distraught, sank to her knees

in fear premonition had told.

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About this Poem: My grandparents (on my mother’s side), lived in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. They went to New York City in September 1939 to see the Worlds Fair. On September 10th 1939 while they were in NYC, Canada declared war on Germany. My Grandmother was overtaken by a fearful premonition to get back home as quickly as possible. When they arrived, her eldest son had already enrolled and greeted them at the door in his uniform. The painting reminds me of that fearful moment as told to me by my mother.

Dinner at Dusk

 

Art by Viktor Shvaiko

Dinner at Dusk

Dinner at dusk, was our favorite time

at Venice café on the lagoon

long candles, wine, windows and moon

violin serenading the room.

Gondola’s outside in slow motion

a mosaic of artwork in view

flowers graced our table for two

all radiant by the essence of you.

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Edited on March 7th, 2023

Lost on the Sahara

 

Lost on the Sahara

If I had a map and compass

I’d know which direction to go

escape the endless dunes and heat

from this desert that’s swallowed me whole.

I must conserve my energy

for survival I must apply,

the sun is bearing down on me

and canteen’s entirely dry.

Waves of heat obscure my vision

and there’s a darkness taking form

that looks like something’s coming

amidst the gathering storm.

A dragon’s fire, scorching hot

flies in on the winds of the west

a sand of fiery pellets

that burns my face and my chest.

The sandstorm came in an instant

and was gone as fast as it came

while flaring sun returned with heat

with surroundings no longer the same.

Out of the sand stood a pillar

grey marks etched deep on its side,

with map to an ancient city

that served as a traveler’s guide.

I dug to follow the markings

and came upon sealed door,

removed the sand that blocked it

that displayed a large granite floor.

The way inside this cavernous rock

glowed white where a staircase was seen

so down I went into the earth

where the air was cool and pristine.

A roaring sound caught my mind,

an underground river was near

I managed my way to its edge

and saw that the water was clear.

I drank what the desert had stolen

submerged in tranquility

such cool relief from its water

in this place of antiquity.

And there in the liquid’s reflection

three tunnels moved underground

carved in a bedrock of granite

with statues of Thoth further down.

I gathered my thoughts and excitement

remembered that I was still lost

returned to the post of markings

to a map of figures embossed.

I recognized a few landmarks

on this map of the river Nile

which showed the place I was standing

way back was less than a mile.

“Follow the belt of Orion

due east on the Giza plateau

from there you’ll regain your bearings

and this story that needs to be told.

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Needle

Needle

I do not lightly choose a hand,

for one must make a moral stand,

wield essence by stern command,

confront the plague upon the land.

A conscious bond one does feel,

stronger than Damascus steel.

joined alliance that is real

with solemn oath, one must kneel.

Gift your essence unto my blade

for true transcendence, concord made.

a worthy oath that will be weighed

embrace it all, be not afraid.

My name is needle, light and dark,

so rightly named by Arya Stark.

feel my balance, thrust and arc,

a slender sword that finds the mark.

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About this Poem: Specific Prompt: Personify the object next to your name…mine was a “needle”.

Arya Stark is a character in in George R. R. Martin's book series A Song of Ice and Fire, as well as its television adaptation Game of Thrones. “Needle” is the name of her sword.