Weeping Windows

Weeping Windows 

Existence saunters in the frost, 

growing spires on the edge of glass, 

it mists upon a window pane, 

and builds its perfect mass. 

As winter’s breath does fill the air, 

a microlithic world is born, 

its grasping hold does sudden flair, 

with diamonds that adorn. 

Virtues revealed in the storm, 

in weathers plan through shining light, 

it crests and glitters uniform, 

and peaks at darkest night. 

In waiting for the sun to rise, 

to evolve another day, 

foundations start to crystalize, 

and crown their fine array. 

Divine existence comes to shine, 

casts its brilliance across with flame, 

where weeping sculptures then recline, 

to diminish from whence they came. 

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2nd Edit Oct 25, 2020

About this Poem: Have you ever watched a window frost over during the course of the day and see its eventual masterpiece, only to see it melt out of existence by the warmth of a new day? In life, we also experience storms and are formed by the weather; only to have our hardened edge melt over time by a spiritual awakening that guides us back to where we came. *wink*

Two Minutes to Midnight

Two Minutes to Midnight

Of ashes grey, from World War two,

a demon was born, that steadily grew.

The rise of empire, with all its rules,

deceived the public and wisest of fools.

From endless money, stocks were grown,

then Gobbled up, by the few who own.

The monster grew, to sprout its wings,

a military might, that claimed all things.

Their apocalypse rode over nations,

With flag unfurled in occupation.

Until the planet was covered in screams,

save the nations who resisted the memes.

While back at home, the censors dream,

they silence resistance to their scheme.

Trusted news, ops out for gold,

switching sides, they’re now controlled.

Industrial captains, lay waste our home,

prepare the ground, for American Rome.

Senators and monuments reflect its disease,

a nation to loot, a nation to seize.

Bankers in haste with quickening guild,

seizing all assets for an empire to build.

And when it’s done and the cupboard is bare,

they start a new war to pad their new lair.

Gobbling resources in victim nations,

they seize control and cause inflation.

Consolidating power through Industrial smoke,

they blame the inhabitants, whom they choke.

They rape the land, poison the seas,

mine the forests, cut down the trees.

When all the assets then disappear,

they resort to climate, to keep them in fear.

Yet while they impoverish every nation,

by sanctions, austerity and inflation,

they war on the Arabs and the Slavs,

creating chaos with the weapons they have.

Global rents now strapped to rockets,

bombs surround their dreams,

arrogance disguised as liberty's freedom,

bathed in clouds of nuclear steam.

The other side reciprocates,

defending what is theirs,

while still inside their country,

the Russians do prepare.

Americans trash the treaties,

agreements they do tear,

and set the doomsday clocks ahead,

without a bloody care.

Yet while the storms unfold on Earth,

all blamed upon our cars,

Astronomy reports that climate changed,

on Neptune, Jupiter and Mars…

If all the money had disappeared,

mans greed would have ended,

But instead of sanity taking hold,

intelligence has been suspended.

Children

Children

Little feet leave impressions,

they dance around one’s heart.

weaving smiles of laughter,

memories that never part.

And oh, those little faces,

Eyes that grin with glee,

Perfect little angels,

God’s gift to you and me.

And when these little cherubs,

Gather in one place,

Their giddy sounds of merriment,

a universal grace.

Our world is twice blessed,

Embraced by children’s song

Filling hearts with kindness,

How can things go wrong?

Then in an instant,

I.D.F. snipers fire,

Our little angels fallen,

by evil little squires.

The world is gravely wounded,

nations look the other way,

Our hope and future stolen,

Our children become the prey…

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About this Poem: Occupational Zionist forces are imprisoning, torturing and murdering Palestinian children while all the Western governments turn their heads and do nothing about it. What is that but pure evil…

Occupation

Occupation

Curled up in a little ball,

a boy from wounds of scorn,

vitriolic barbs embed,

where the spirits torn.

Terror enslaves the region,

population displaced,

his world now run by monsters,

in such a barren place.

He wakes to broken buildings,

but pangs of hope remain,

although in truth its dire,

brought on by the insane.

Food is scarce while safety’s worse,

water is fouled by hate,

occupation of his home,

by a terrorist state.

Swarms of Bullets whiz his ears,

as bandits bomb the land,

while captors answer pleas for help,

with a stinging hand.

Defiance is his weapon,

in eyes the real pain,

childhood gone, long ago,

taken by those insane.

Yet in the shadows distance,

in country side of tears,

shouts ring out within his heart,

to chase away his fears.

For in the storm that’s coming,

are hero’s strong and brave,

the army he’ll embrace again,

when they all are saved.

With terror’s back now broken,

the fighter’s power through,

restoring old foundation,

by bave-ry proud and true.

Jubilation sings its soul,

as welling tears bring joy,

dancing in the streets again,

for this orphaned boy.

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Edited Aug 21st, 2021

About this Poem: I wrote this poem during the liberation of Aleppo. It’s based on the belligerent occupations and injustice being experienced by the people of Syria, Palestine, Iraq, Yemen, Libya, and all other nations who have been under attack by US Imperialism, European Colonialism and their belligerent attack dogs.

Western Mainstream media also lies to its audience about what is really happening in foreign affairs. They have become the Orwellian ministry of propaganda for western Imperialism and by doing so, destroy the fabric of democracy in their own nations.

The following lines were a part of this poem but edited out. They remain here in the authors notes as a statement of truth.

“Lies are swallowed in the west,

by apathetic minds,

compassion lost, morals gone,

while moving forward blind.”

Painting from the Soul

Painting from the Soul

Creation brings reflection,

in the paintings of the soul,

quiet moments, visions,

they combine to make one whole.

New canvas of confession,

a blanket of fallen snow,

inspirations from the past,

emotions begin to flow.

Reds of broken essence ride,

greyish outlines dark with scorn,

shards of language so imbued,

by the pains of being born.

Orange sways indifference,

compassions absolve the breech,

flowers pining forgiveness,

by moments tinged in peach.

Pastel waters, calming themes,

emotions absorbed in light,

tans and browns foundations built,

where a bridge appears from white.

Brushstrokes blue with empathy,

soft tones hail the rising sun,

forgiveness dreams on canvas,

from the days when there was none.

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If only I could paint and provide a proper photo. ;) 

Capital Fraud

Capital Fraud

A Family business, moral by oath,

builds community with positive growth.

An Important link in the chain of needs,

providing goods in the hamlet it feeds.

Yet in the world of capitalist yoke,

the greedy play games, under a cloak.

The competition, desires your shop,

begins a war, sets the prices to drop.

With pockets so deep, thanks to the bank,

rivals squeeze you, until you tank.

With no place to go, except you know where,

the banker advises, stock market share.

Wall street vortex and banking memes,

devouring companies by fraudulent means,

A gamblers pit with rules of the streets,

their markets rigged by financial cheats.

The company lost through a sale of stock,

all bought up by the penny hawk.

And now your business is owned by the bank,

the hawk who sold you and the one to thank.

Acquired now by your competition,

who backed the bank by his own admission.

Market share gained, who’s next on the block,

the Corporate meme begins to stalk.

Barbaric world of robbers and thieves,

they prey on the innocent who believe.

When nothing’s left and the market is bought,

they turn their eyes in and feast on the lot.

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About this Poem: Capitalism begins with good intentions but always ends up in self destruction through greed.

Greed is driven by a criminal private banking system that is ultimately owned by a few wealthy banking families. These Banks feed off of community like parasites which is why we are all subject to paying higher rents, mortgages and taxes.

These banking families also control and run the stock markets, which are their own private gambling halls. All of it has been legalized by corrupt government officials and for a very long time. Today, people think of Private Banks and the Stock Markets as normal because they were born into the system not knowing that they are actually economic slaves to them.

The entire “Private Banking System” and stock market is completely fraudulent and needs to be addressed if we are to save society from extreme poverty. The solution rests in changing the way government and banking works.

America the Beautiful (2018 Version)

America the Beautiful (2018 Version) 

O beautiful the chemtrail skies,

Monsanto waves of grain,

the coal filled mountain companies,

above the oil spill plain!

America, America!

Your god is on its knees,

elections rigged by criminals,

who drive the corporate schemes.

No immigrants allowed to come,

your stern impassions stress,

who come from lands that you destroyed

these people in distress.

America! America!

Your God is on its knees,

confirms thy soul, no self control,

and no morality.

...And overseas your army proved,

that they create the strife,

egocentric monsters loose,

no mercy for any life,

America! America!

Your evil is refined,

untouchable by your decree,

for all your warring crimes.

The laws you make, are filled with hate,

your moral compass dead,

your cities filled with human tears,

where poverty is spread!

America! America!

Your god wont take a knee,

Obama, Clinton, Bush and Trump

your symptom of disease.

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By: The Activist Poet

About this expression: Truth is our greatest weapon, especially when one waves this flag in the face of power...

I’m not an American so I cannot be patriotic to America but I can be patriotic to the truth and so for Black History Month, I decided to create this truthful spin on an American patriotic song...I'm angry with what the US Government is doing all over the World but I’m also angry on what it is doing in its own country...What do you think?

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The Lyrics and story behind the original song can be found at the following link:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/America_the_Beautiful

Whispers

Whispers

Consciousness stirs within and all around us. It seeks our understanding, and whispers truth to the hearts of pioneers, who birth the evolution and steps of ascent towards an age of new enlightenment. Behold the defining moments of the world, each one a whisper of light by those who dared to listen.

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God speed John Anthony West (July 09, 1932 – Feb. 06, 2018)

John Anthony West: Pre Dynastic Egypt and the Sphinx

The Wheel

The Wheel

That sickly sound is in the air,

that grinding crushing noise,

the meme of ruthless business,

on people it destroys.

The thieving wheel extends its reach,

consolidating power,

controlling every industry,

communities they devour.

There was a time of honesty,

when many fortunes made,

but in the halls behind the bank,

were greedy thieves of trade.

They tolled the roads, controlled the wealth,

and sat upon the gold,

then pulled the plug on everyone,

made worthless stocks we hold.

Every sector on the wheel,

fell to criminal hands,

stolen by financial memes,

through economic plans.

Into their grasp all did pass,

on money carousels,

then to war, they brought us all,

these lethal Cancer cells.

The wheel returned from foreign shores,

new partners in their banks,

they left us all disgraced and poor,

while others built their tanks.

Today there’s not but tyranny,

free speech about to fall,

with bills that kill our freedom,

the wealthy have it all.

These corporate thieves enslaved our land,

game is set and done,

the only way to free ourselves,

is to change the way things run.

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About this Poem: Should be self evident, right? 😉

2nd Edit - 2020 Feb. 24