Waiting

 

Waiting

Comfort shades brown peering eyes,

there amongst the scent of birch.

Hidden under greying skies

and autumn leaves upon a perch.

Snug and safe from hunter’s game

but ready should the need arise,

to tap into his sturdy frame,

despite the smallness of his size.

A quickened pulse then in his chest

as trappers near, he holds his breath.

Lessons learned now put to test,

one false move could be his death.

There inside he sees it all,

traps are set amongst the grass.

Plans a route to warren hall,

waits until the hunter’s pass.

Silence reigns as sun goes down

a calm return to forest dome

to then emerge from underground

seeking comfort of his home.

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

The Ancient Forge of Magic Rings

 

The Ancient Forge of Magic Rings

Celestial fires washed away

the golden age of Argonauts

where magic things long forgotten

remain but ashes of old thoughts.

I stood in wonder, mesmerized

in the cave I had discovered.

An ancient place deep underground

with artifacts I recovered.

Beryllium rings, crowned with stones

of ruby and blue sapphire,

for kings and queens and overlords,

that were forged by dragon’s fire.

Twelve magic bands with scrolls attached

concealed in a granite box

with embossed designs in ancient tongue

on layered metamorphic rock.

I stumbled on this hidden place

that was filled with bygone things

in the Monteregian mountains

the ancient forge of magic rings.

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

The Phoenix Moon

 

The Phoenix Moon

When the phoenix moon rises

and bald eagle takes wing

the timber wolf howls

and mountain fires spring,

Aphrodite will return,

heaven will once again sing

covering earth in warmth

and renewal it will bring.

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

Fall of the EU

 

Fall of the E.U.

Bit by bit the E.U. fell,

just couldn't shake that hubris spell.

So strong together, such a farce

gone shot themselves in the arse.

That's quite alright, because you can vote

for candidates shoved down your throat.

All little demons of the WEF;

to people’s needs they’re blind and deaf.

They cut your gas and cut your oil

while agriculture rots and spoils

under rainbow flags of ascension,

you’ll never get that promised pension.

Forced into debt without delay

each nation labeled as the prey.

Sanctions placed on those defiant

till vassal states become compliant.

"Gimme, gimme", Ukraine needs more,

that little scavenger makes you poor.

Boil, bubble, inflation trouble,

you’re eating less, while rents are double.

So don’t complain as cities burn,

you voted for that beasts return,

with leeches given final say,

on sovereignty they’ve washed away.

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

The Activist Poet

Distractions

 

Distractions

Many, too many programs

planted in our minds

distracts the ease of dreaming

that sails behind the blinds.

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

The Door

 

The Door

Rising from the depths of darkness,

light appears with wooden door

a choice to make after lessons learned,

remain in fear or win the war.

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

Estuary’s Gift

 

Estuary’s Gift

Nebulous skies break the morning,

foggy mist swells the lake in white,

gently wakes the sleeping angels,

that came in late and spent the night.

Tranquil whispers greet the light,

as billowed blankets gently fade,

reveals kept secret behind the clouds,

the perfect painting god had made.

Excitement builds as sun grows stronger,

snow geese prepare to leave the lake,

form a crescent on the water,

before departure they will make.

As sunrise breaks the mountain top,

a beam of gold reveals the way,

and leads the geese in rising song,

as they prepare to leave the bay.

A crash of thunder greets the air,

the beat back of ten thousand wings,

that breaks the stillness on the lake,

and drives the rising song they sing.

Wings beat faster, hearts are racing,

they carry my essence in tow,

raise me up in celebration,

with estuary’s gift bestowed.

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

Garden Silhouette

Garden Silhouette

Silent world with eyes awake,

compels the morning glory,

as silhouettes grace the plants,

amongst the gardens kauri.

Where, memories wear your smile,

of lavender in full bloom,

while twilight shines your essence,

across the sunlit room.

Purple pansies, yellow flair,

capture moments of your soul,

pink petunias, orchids white,

lush in life to make you whole.

Petals shimmer in the wind,

giving voice to your spirit,

intuitions, butterflies,

to any who comes near it.

Everything comes back to life,

in the garden that you made,

although you may not be here,

your essence clearly stayed.

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

About this Poem: This poem is dedicated to my mother who loved gardening and could make anything grow. When she was alive, the inside and outside of her house was covered in plants and flowers. Every time I visited her in spring and summer, it felt as if I stepped into a Thomas Kinkade painting filled with exotic colorful flowers, all so vibrant and intoxicating with life, that you could feel the energy all around you. The magic she created, will always fill my thoughts and senses when I think about her. Today, my daughter started a flower garden and I swear my mother was helping. 😊

*Note: Kauri is a hearty tree that can live 2,000 years

The Gathering Dust

The Gathering Dust

Living is too expensive,

apartments are out of range,

condo’s take all your wages,

mortgages on the exchange.

The prices keep on rising,

everyone’s being oppressed,

energy costs are higher,

inflation takes all the rest.

Education hasn’t changed,

nor evolved for what matters,

preparation for those jobs,

the ones now all in tatters.

Healthcare’s being dismantled,

our governments are a shame,

science bought and corrupted,

while newscasts bury the blame.

Politicians are all crooks,

regardless of their leaning,

they pat themselves on the back,

increase their pensions meaning.

Corruptions at all levels,

banking business owns them all,

corporate backers every one,

while citizens take the fall.

War drums have started beating,

an enemy’s being made,

distracts us from the problems,

and hides that we were betrayed.

Out of phase without the truth,

our country’s in a bubble,

time is moving unconcerned,

the nation’s in deep trouble.

Our way of life, at an end,

the economy’s a bust,

greed and power stole it all,

while our history gathers dust.

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

The Activist Poet

Before it's All Too Late

 

Before it’s All Too Late

Gliding through space and time,

evolving, birth to death,

moments, thoughts, reflected,

of mankind’s dying breath.

All unfolds, surreal dream,

with lifetime, to make right,

weighty task to fix the world,

reverse its deadly plight.

A dead licentious spire,

civilization gone,

cities lay in decay,

in the nemesis dawn.

Answers in the ruins,

where victor’s words are sung,

compiled in debris,

the book of what was done.

Glaring in omissions,

of moral common sense,

plays in opposition,

to silence and pretense.

Industries empowered,

political decrees,

carried out desires,

that no one claimed to see.

Oceans fate, void of life,

a horror that unfolds,

feeds the burning forests,

of brittle bracken Wolds.

Fate that has not happened,

but will with status quo,

wake from all the damage,

and change what drives it so.

Time is short for us all,

a torus deals our fate,

end the madness and the greed,

before its all too late.

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

The Activist Poet

Escape

 

Escape

Harmony carries the spirit

above the threshold mind

euphoria holds the moment

to dance above the grind

while fleeting thrusts of empathy

carry my spirits glee

through the scaled emotion

that’s longing to be free.

To then descend back to the earth

where bricks entomb my soul

back to Dante’s existence

where life just swallows me whole.

Determined yet to launch again

to flee this prison cell

I ready myself for escape

escape this earthly hell.

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

Breathing

 

Breathing

Long cool drafts upon the moors,

claims and bonds, provides the cures,

respires life, day and night,

natures breath in wisps of light.

Truth or Illusion

 

Truth or Illusion

Truth or illusion,

the picture’s the same,

leans on opinion,

to support its claim.

For what is real,

and what is fiction,

if the truth’s in sight,

with false depiction.

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

About this poem: The brevity is about perceptions using the photo above as a case in point

Dúnedain Castle

Dúnedain Castle

Deep within the valley,

between the mountain range,

Dúnedain castle stands,

against the winds of change.

Built upon the bedrock,

among the spires it climbs,

covered by the forest,

well hidden from our times.

Catacombs underground,

dug in the mountain shelves,

with secret road for their king,

and passage to the elves.

All around stronghold’s walls,

a river, crystal pure,

Elron’s gift to the fold,

long life sustained its cure.

Terrace farms gird the hold,

and climbed the mountain tops,

fruit and berry, harvest time,

sustained them with their crops.

Perfect little kingdom,

so proud and tall and grand,

days of gold in middle earth,

before the witch king’s hand.

Immune Response

Immune Response

New science publications,

have proven COVID’s end,

no need for vaccination,

for pandemic they pretend.

Our system gives protection,

from viruses and germs,

antibodies created,

as our testing so confirms.

New virus’s encounter,

Immune-globulin M,

the bodies first responder,

where the antibodies stem.

Takes time to break new germs down,

for our systems retention,

but once it’s done, and complete,

it’s ready for prevention.

If you get the germ again,

immune system stands on guard,

releasing its components,

that attacks the virus hard.

I.G.G. and I.G.A.,

stops the virus to your cells,

protective antibodies,

that help to keep you well.

And if the cells infected,

then lymphocytes are released,

killing all infected cells,

virus factories then deceased.

Vaccines are never needed,

from variants you’re immune,

your system still remembers,

and releases their platoon.

If germs are in your bloodstream,

antibodies seek them out,

and mark them as invaders,

for the leukocytes to bout.

Leukocytes are cells that eat,

bacteria within you,

cells that flow within your blood,

just hunting for things to do.

Two major arms protect you,

immune system has your back,

lymphocytes and leukocytes,

your front lines against attack.

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

By: The Activist Poet

Info: Scientific literature references for Dr. Bhakdi's presentation: 

See Video Presentation here 

Research Papers:

(1of4) - SARS-CoV-2 elicits robust adaptive immune responses regardless of disease severity

(2of4) - Human IgG and IgA responses to COVID-19 mRNA vaccines

(3of4) - Circulating SARS-CoV-2 Vaccine Antigen Detected in the Plasma of mRNA-1273 Vaccine Recipients

(4 of 4) - SARS-CoV-2 mRNA vaccination induces functionally diverse antibodies to NTD, RBD, and S2

Recurring Dream 1940

Recurring Dream 1940

The dream repeats again tonight,

with eerie choice to make,

the basement with its fearful gloom,

or stairs up to my fate.

I feel the bombs all come to mind,

see their demolition,

out of the house my chances best,

urged by intuition.

I climb the rubble to the door,

see familiar sight,

streets are covered with piles of bricks,

and ash all grey and white.

We’re in between the Gerry raids,

and bombs dropped from the sky,

the town all out to clean the mess,

without a how or why.

The dream now shows a different scene,

a bomb wedged in so tight,

right in front of the cellar door,

where I just spent the night.

My eyes then open in a stare,

and hear the distant towns,

that dreadful hum up in the air,

of planes and air raid sounds.

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

Wraith World

 

Wraith World

When shivers leave you all alone,

and the darkness claims your eyes,

the candle light that is your soul,

will flicker by their surprize.

To fall into the world of wraith,

of poisons and spider webs,

where all alone you hear them breathe,

with the voices of the dead.

Mortality then grips you so,

off balance your life on edge,

breathing quick your thoughts in panic,

while your fear becomes a wedge.

The demon wraiths have come for you,

no escape when you are seen,

they feast upon the human spark,

in the darkest depth of dreams.

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

The Silent Majority

 Video: Stewart Brennan March 19th, 2020

The Silent Majority

All our dreams have been broken,

by a greedy corporate task,

but we shall all remember,

who it is that wears the mask.

Little whispers of the past,

tell a tale of who you are,

for we have all been watching,

through the damage of our scars.

To some your face is hidden,

for others a business deal,

but for those of us that see you,

will come for what you steal.

Will you get away with it?

keep pushing and you’ll find out,

liberty is drawing near,

and your end, I have no doubt.

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

The Activist Poet

Video: Stewart Brennan March 14th, 2013

Imprints to Ascend

Imprints to Ascend

Time is measured while we live and breathe,

the clocks begin ticking at our birth,

they start what could be one hundred years,

a lifetime on this planet called earth.

Imprints are given before you’re born,

a program of goals and conditions,

placed and hidden but only revealed,

in déjà vu and intuition.

Your mission here, repair the damage,

and to make the world a better place,

the tools needed will build through your life,

in the cycles you come to embrace.

Those cycles in life repeat ten-fold,

they merge and develop your mission,

building upon all that you have learned,

to complete your tasks of transition.

All we do, experience the key,

reassurance and comprehension,

what happens next depends upon you,

to remain or move to ascension.

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

The Illusion

The Illusion

Grey shadows present themselves,

in orange, yellow and white,

atop of youth’s perceptions,

in the dreams that come at night.

Their forms are rich and lavish,

waiting, and yours to achieve,

enticed by hidden essence,

in illusions that they weave.

and when you wake up startled,

by disasters that they feed,

you’ll come to know their sunset,

and their program filled with greed.

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

The Activist Poet