Dan’s Return

Dan’s Return

Daylight crests the dawn, as clouds scurry across the bay, the country’s in midwinter, and filled with anticipation.

Horse and cutter clears the snow, mail sleigh is a go, lifting hopeful spirits, with letters replied in tow.

It’s been weeks since Dan returned, but today the mail cart is coming, and Phil’s reply should relieve concerns, that all is well and running.

Dan’s thoughts go back to wars end, when they said their goodbye’s, they made a pledge to redress old times, carry them back to Maine, and open up that damn wood shop.

Phil’s ship left port, two weeks ahead of Dan’s, as he recalled the singing, the excitement and the boat filled with brimming smiles. Life was in celebration and the future was ours.

Clopping hooves and sleigh bells break the frosty air to ring in mornings excitement, as the postman shakes guarded memory, places a single letter in the box and slips away with his team.

Bandaged hands excitedly waving his thanks, Dan moves swiftly towards the letterbox. “Damn these dressings, my hands don’t work. I can’t open a simple letterbox, how will I tell Phil the shop will have to wait? Here’s my Martha now to help me with these tricky things.”

“These darn hands don’t seem to work with these bandages dear Martha, could you open up the letterbox dear, so we can both take a look?”

Bundled warm in coat, boots and sweater, Martha retrieved the postman’s delivery. Eyes round and glowing, she turns with letter in hand and makes for the house.

“Yes, let’s go inside to read it, it’s too cold out here, we’ll certainly catch our death.”

Inside the kitchen, with woodstove all alight, Martha opened the letter to read Phil’s writing.

Dear Martha,

…the letter wasn’t for me! What’s that devil up to, thought Dan…and so behind Martha he stood to read Phil’s words…

When I left your Dan in France, his wounds were healing, the Great War was over, and the future was all ours to build. Dan spoke of you often with such love in his eyes, and was heading back to ask for your hand.

I went to greet his boat a day early, and booked two tickets to Maine. Dan wanted to introduce me to his future bride, so I waited at the station in great anticipation for news on his arrival. I waited long, but was truly looking forward to the reunion when the news came…Not one day out, their ship was hit by a mine, the ship sank…and all aboard was lost…there were no survivors…I’m so sorry…

Martha broke down in tears, and tossed the letter aside. Dan looked down…”but I made it home, I’m with you here, now…”

Martha, distraught, got up and ran from the empty room, leaving the letter behind…

Dan sat down in his usual spot and stared at the tear filled paper on the table…

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

About Dan’s Return: Phil and Dan were comrades who survived World War I and on Phil’s departure pledged to meet up back home in the States. Although Dan’s return is not as expected…

Stormy Journey

Image Created by Stewart Brennan at Night Café Studios

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ~ Ray Bradbury

Stormy Journey

Old tormented mind fastens arms around a failing rudder, gripped tightly, clinging to a solitary vision, on the tempestuous seas of insanity.

Anxious thoughts gather, yet mind firmly anchored on the horizon of monstrous rolling waves that scream at him like banshees on the rocks.

Rain-soaked face determined, boldly cursing Poseidon’s squalling battle, “You shall not sink me!”. Two bright lanterns stubbornly flicker on into the headwinds of gnashing thoughts, resolved to see through victory, else the fathoms of the deep await should he drop his pen.

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

About this Poem: The Poem was inspired by a quote from Ray Bradbury, “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” – The Poem is my personal testament to the truth of these words…the need to keep writing, or the establishments reality will consume me to my death…I fight on…

Poem included in my first book, "The Activist Poet - Vol. 1" 

Corporate Pestilence

Corporate Pestilence

As Corprageddon gathers,

they plan the coming year,

for sales are down and falling,

invokes systemic fear.

When mega corps aren’t growing,

economies rumble,

and if they lose their business,

stocks begin to tumble.

For corporate growth requires,

decisions in a flash,

such as new improved products,

marked up for greater cash.

But growth is exponential,

brings with it disaster,

famine, war, and pestilence,

from the money master.

Breaking news at six, six, six,

more fear porn from T.V.,

deformities in Brazil,

for all the world to see.

Zika virus mosquitoes,

spreading pandemic fear,

the news-core breaks to tell you,

disguise how they appear.

What they say and how it is,

are very different things,

pesticides are culpable,

in birth defects they bring.

In truth there’s growth forestalling,

in pesticides released,

to stop larvae from growing,

is the nature of this beast.

With water table poisoned,

deception laced with fear,

they sell their medications,

to gorge another year.

Caged is human suffering,

becomes big pharma’s plough,

for all that take their treatment,

become big pharma’s cow.

Inventive little stories,

carried by little bugs,

that reproduce in water,

to sell new twisted drugs.

I wonder how they do it,

just in the nick of time,

hoodwink a mass of people,

to save their bottom line.

When wall street fall’s I’ll worry,

of what they’ll do that day,

their moral fiber’s empty,

and people are their prey.

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

The Activist Poet

Edited Aug 21st, 2021

About this poem: I wrote this poem in 2016 against the backdrop of Zika Virus fear that was emerging from the economically compromised World Health Organization, C.D.C. and mainstream media.

When economic interests control organisms by direct funding, they are no longer trustworthy especially when the world is run by sociopathic corporate criminals that have no concern for human life. Their only concern is profit and control of powerful institutions that maintain their unchecked power.

When science is also funded by these cancerous economic entities, narratives are created and used as fear on the unsuspecting population, much the same way they have turned the annual flu into a fear mongering pandemic in 2020 that requires constant inoculations for something that is 99.98% survivable, where herd immunity was reached long ago.

Corprageddon = the global take over of power and community by corporations.

Free at Last

Free at Last

Freed from bondage, you broke my chains,

Lifted my spirit and removed the pains.

Setting sun melts earthly planes,

And plants the ground with my remains.

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

Eternal Light

Eternal Light

Come to me…

You my child, who toils in light and darkness,

I am here in brilliance, as a reminder of our bond.

Remember me, when you are weary,

when confusion blocks your way.

You are of me, and I of infinite fire,

our light is one, the candle of all souls,

light never extinguished,

that lives in thoughts and dreams.

I am the father of life, and the son of eternity,

the well of souls, replenishment of mind and spirit.

I am the light that glows, and creator of shadow,

the conscious energy of our essence.

Come to me…

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

James Yuill – No Surprize

Video Source: World United Music

James Yuill Artist Profile and Music

Lost

Lost

Misplaced compass,

coherence gone,

obscured vision,

spirit withdrawn.

Listless ship,

mind astray,

stormy seas,

burdens weigh.

Cumbrous keel,

sails fall,

identity vanished,

in the squall.

Ballast sinks,

essence tossed,

emotions plunge,

all hope lost.

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

About this Poem: Life presents many challenges as we walk the path in front of us. However, sometimes we become lost, lose our way and fall into depression. Something that I’m familiar with. There is good news at the end when treated, as it comes in the form of an awakening.

Program Crash & Repair

Program Crash & Repair

01010011 - 01110100 - 01100101 –

01110111 - 01100001 - 01110010 –

01110100

Programmed mind,

life and soul,

decent job,

all systems go,

kids and wife,

car and house,

credit card,

active life,

debts to bank,

television,

more distractions,

mindless visions,

alcohol,

interactions,

Internet,

interruptions,

strange events,

and disruptions,

nine-eleven,

direction changed,

events unprocessed,

wife estranged,

anxiety builds,

unresolved,

anxiety builds,

systems failing,

imminent crash,

arguments,

marriage crash,

employment crash,

family crash,

housing crash,

economy crash,

bankruptcy,

falling, falling,

mind overload,

confusion,

lost in space,

undefined...

in the dark,

floating lost,

echoed thought,

dripping light,

paths less travelled,

dark and bright,

imprint scripting,

dots connecting,

coming to,

intersecting,

old roads closed,

time on hands,

mindful walks,

nature’s plan,

system re-boot,

vision clear,

world wide web,

lights appear,

a billion voices,

conscience flow,

different history,

now I know,

revisit programs,

adjustments made,

up and running,

connections weighed,

new tasks started,

vision clear,

repairs complete,

end of year,

purpose found,

creative strands,

light embraced,

political stands,

projects started,

at my pace,

all recorded,

all in place,

one last push,

one last sprint,

what comes next,

through my imprint,

new foundation,

connecting those,

in preparation,

to disclose,

time is short,

close to end,

conscious journey,

where I transcend.

End transmission…

For more details, see The Activist Poet Volume 1…

01010011 - 01110100 - 01100101 –

01110111 - 01100001 - 01110010 –

01110100

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

2nd Edit Sept 15th, 2021

About this Poem: I wrote this poem for a poetry contest in 2016 which asked, “If your life crashed and burned today, what would we find recorded in your Black Box?” I thought the idea was brilliant and so having graduated the Electrical Engineering program in Dawson College, I decided to start and end the poem by using my first name in ASCII code.

ASCII, is abbreviated for "American Standard Code for Information Interchange" and is used as a character encoding standard for electronic communication.

Since my life did crash and burn with the continuing collapse of the North American Economy, the poem came naturally especially as society moved from the radio and television program age into the internet era of communication.

The poem reflects my life from the early 1990’s to today (2021) where I was trying to operate within the establishments economic program but as time passed everything just fell apart, especially after 911, which coincided at the dawn of Internet communication as the old programmed world died in the economic consolidation and continuing collapse of the North American economy.

The internet age became an awakening of sorts since information came with alternative news, views, music and chat groups that connected people around the world, which in turn freed them of the old rigid programs of national indoctrination and propaganda.

The lies of the established political, economic and military power structure became more and more obvious as information became public and accessible online as we were able to see for ourselves what was really happening in other nations around the world which conflicted with our government and mainstream news narratives.

There were also more spiritual and alternative views of life that emerged during this time, for how we were all connected to each other and the universe.

The conversations of consciousness, ancient history and ancient places that were once considered taboo, started to rock the unshakable religious narrative which claimed that our civilization was only 6,000 years old, began to take root and change people’s perceptions of life in general. All of which fed my insatiable curiosity and need to know.

Included in my second Book: The Activist Poet – Volume 2

Shadow Empire III

Shadow Empire III

Long shadows of night descend on cities of broken dreams,

Where supremacists seize power in a coup revoking rights of existence.

A perverse, wicked neoteric Rome rises in the west,

Empowering its faithful greedy hordes, with promises never meant to keep.

Battle lines reach antediluvian empires, as Imperial malevolence is unleashed,

Ancient cities have been set on fire, for a pocket full of gold.

Yet, awareness flows through empathic vision,

filling passions of those who uphold morality, freedom and justice.

The army of righteous now rises, to the last lines of defence,

We rise, we rise and stand on guard.

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

About this Poem: Current world events reflected in 100 words...It's part of a longer write I made a while ago called ”We Stand on Guard”. This one was for a contest with the subject line, "World War III" in 100 words or less. 

Love is not a Waste of Time

Love is not a Waste of Time

Wagging tails and soulful eyes,

rising sun in morning skies,

Gibbous moon with its embrace,

a child’s giggle and smiling face,

The passing hours here with you,

all the things we had to do,

Patience with a heart of gold,

always mindful growing old,

Slower walks in memories made,

singing songs that never fade,

All within our life’s assent,

treasured moments, time well spent.

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

Poem influenced by Phil Common's song, "Love is not a Waste of Time"

Video Source: Stewart Brennan

Music By: Phil Common

The Light of Life

The Light of Life

Life awakened

in captured time,

spirits brightly shone.

Tempus formed,

ego rose, battles raged,

I was alone…

Then you came,

removed my shell,

oh brilliant light!