The Phase of Life

The Phase of Life

I know more today than yesterday

and less today than tomorrow.

But every day that saunters by,

leaves me with a little sorrow.

For time that passes changes all,

deposits life into the past.

The journey here is just a phase,

as nothings meant to last.

Yet the person that’s within me

has always remained the same,

as the light inside is brighter,

for the universe to reclaim.

So, as I learn of who I am

and the further along I go,

that life is just experience

for the next phase I’ll come to know,

I find that there’s tranquility

and take comfort to the end,

for in the end there’s beginning

and a new place to ascend.

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Photo created by Stewart Brennan on Night Café Studios

Uprising - The Day of Desolation

 

Uprising - The Day of Desolation

Roaring fires dance with defiance in determined eyes, while conviction hardens for release in the last days of empire.

Slaves of industry gather on the shores of rebellion, uniting as a fist against the tyrants who command allegiance through their nefarious dispositions of fear and coercion. A force of terror that has etched itself into painful scars and expressions on the nation’s children.

Fury drives the oppressed to the edge of madness where rage fuels anger, resentment, and resolve, seething onto the streets of vengeance; where the echoes of rebellion gather across the nation in city after city making their way to the front lines of conflict. They are united by a singular collective vision, "Remove the tyrants!"

Waiting for them are guns, flashbangs, storms of choking gas and traitors holding the tyrant’s line of defense, like firing squads behind decades of oppression… “Traitors! Traitors all!"

They stand as an armed belligerence drunk on psychotic illusions attacking their own communities like cancer does to its host…these enforcers of supremacist mindset smile in glee as if in a feeding frenzy of unchecked power…mercenaries of the economic god, that are painfully unaware of their fate as a sea of humanity drives forth in a tsunami of determination to drive their oppressors out. Yet, traitors still have a choice as truth, honor and resolve forge the bonds of rebellion that stands united in defiance, against the iron bars of oppression.

A sea of humanity floods past barricades where glass castles and illusions come crashing down. Power usurped by despotic tyrants is shattered by the rocks of truth that brings with it the voice of judgement.

Elitist arrogance and supremacist conviction, laid waste by the justice of karma. Tyranny thus falls and decays in its own rot. A new hope emerges at the end of an age. Yet the search for reason takes pause in judgement and ponders with the stone-cold stare of emptiness…will the face of a new beginning harden in the image of a new tyrant? Or will an age of community begin?

Evolution and chaos, await judgement, on the day of desolation.
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About this Prose: The Day of Desolation is about the end phase of an abusive empire, as all abusive empires end and usually very badly…

When people are oppressed and pushed too far, they will rise up and take back what was denied them. Sadly, what often happens after popular uprisings is that the masses go back to sleep after giving up the reigns of power to a new group of tyrants. Thus, the cycle repeats itself over and over again.

We have not yet seen the end of this greedy power cycle, which is fueled by a private monetary system…but it is possible to change once the illusion of money dissipates and spiritual reality takes hold. When we collectively decide to change the way money works, we will evolve into a better world. Otherwise, the status quo will continue and we will, in effect, repeat a cycle with predicable consequences…

Truth and Warnings

Truth and Warnings

In day’s of dying empires,

rise the demons of the Kell,

destroying peace and freedom,

while turning earth to hell.

They come from different places,

were trained, well armed and paid,

and then released on targets,

to launch a new crusade.

Terror armies raised on hate,

bred by empirical greed,

gather fast on foreign lands,

these bankrolled evil seeds.

Backed by hidden interests,

who control toxicity,

that fund the operation,

and all publicity.

Deceitful Politicians,

vile orators of blame,

glad to point their fingers,

to commence deceitful game.

Society’s distracted,

with fabricated stories,

instead of evil helmets,

they shower them with glory.

Now in days of starkness,

come forth alternative news,

unleashing truth unhindered,

to correct misguided views.

They sow the seeds of wisdom,

report community’s fate,

with truth they lay before you,

with choice that’s yours to make.

Censored in the war on words,

slandered for exposing crimes,

investigative journalists,

all targeted in these times.

Beware the corporate mainstream,

that extinguish all the light,

investigate for yourself,

and embrace that which is right.

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By: The Activist Poet

About this Poem: Regime change on independent nations around the world is funded by a consolidated western economic cartel of corporations, banks and think tanks to remove obstacles to their consolidation of economics. Syria, Iran, Libya, Yemen, Venezuela and a host of African nations, continue to be their prime targets.

The western economic cartel which holds its power through western governments, their militaries and their unintelligence agencies of CHAOS, have funded, trained and weaponized terrorism on independent nations, but especially independent oil producing nations.

The “White Helmets”, which are a US & UK political construct was exposed by independent journalists for being imbedded with the worst forms of terrorism that were also backed by western nations. When on the ground investigative reporters and photographers began exposing the wests involvement with the White Helmets, terrorism and chemical weapons in Syria, they became targets for angry slurs, death threats and censorship by western power instead of being praised for exposing the truth.

Canadian investigative journalist Eva Bartlett and the UK’s Vanessa Beeley are two of many brave souls I consider as models to humanity for their tireless work which comes at great personal cost to themselves, when bringing the truth to the public. I wrote this poem against the backdrop of western BS and in solidarity with these brave outstanding women to show that the light is indeed shining in dark places.

(This poem was first written in 2015 / 2016 but not shared until now.)

LINKS:

Eva Karene Bartlett: Journalist / Photographer, Syria, Palestine, ++ International Correspondent

Vanessa Beeley: Journalist / Photographer, Syria Correspondent

[01] Meet the White Helmets

[02] Eva Karene Bartlett on Syria Jan 28 2017, Montreal
[03] After his Mysterious Death, Media Scrambles to Get its Story Straight about White Helmets Founder, James le Mesurier

[04] John Pilger – The White Helmets are a Complete Propaganda Construct
[05] Craig Murray – The Sad Death of James le Mesurier
]06] Leaked docs expose massive Syria propaganda operation waged by Western govt contractors and media

Where's the Future?

 

Where’s the Future?

Golden dreams of moral essence,

grace the hearts of our youth,

they grow to build our tomorrow’s,

when guided by the truth.

Instead, today we build illusions,

and teach the children lies,

the future rests on their conclusions,

new beginning, or demise.

The world is plagued by confusion,

corporate media governs fools,

our establishments in collusion,

with banks who make up the rules.

A web of ledgers owned by few,

consolidates well being,

usurping life they take it all,

while they're overseeing.

So, what do we tell our children,

about the world they will inherit,

the lies that lace our history books,

or the truth that earns demerit.

I wonder what professors think,

when discovering history’s fake,

there is no sense of urgency,

and nothing seems at stake.

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By: The Activist Poet

Intuition

 

Intuition

Intuition’s an old soul,

that writes our book of dreams,

a guiding voice within our minds,

that guards us from extremes.

It stays with you a lifetime,

protects you from thoughts astray,

that sends you in directions,

and warns to turn away.

In older primal places,

where ardor does overwhelm,

past lives can still remember,

the feelings from ancient realm.

When voice within is calling,

it comes from somewhere in time,

and speaks through intuition, 

to convey your paradigm.

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About this Poem: Intuition is the voice inside you that I believe comes from the collective lives you’ve lived in the past. We’ve all felt the words and warnings, even with a few goosebumps. Treasure that voice and listen to it always, especially when it warns you.

Have you ever been to an ancient place like Stonehenge, the Pyramids and felt a profound feeling or strong connection? When looking at these ancient places, it may be that a past life you’ve lived perks up inside trying to tell you they’ve been here before but the words are lost to feelings of intuition.

The photo is from one of the moments I experienced, I needed proof I was on the right path and so I listened to intuition that directed me to the top of a large hill. I asked my question and for proof I then asked show me the face of an angel...at that moment the wind picked up, a face turned towards me and whispered in my mind, "Take your picture"...

I will be writing more of these topics in my next book "The Activist Poet Volume 2" including my defiant words at the governing establishment.

Prescience and a Glimpse of Life’s Imprint II

 

Prescience and a Glimpse of Life’s Imprint II

Psilocybin was a door,

long ago and in my past,

conveyed a future life time,

and all my moments caste.

Age nineteen and unafraid,

is when I stepped through that door,

and crossed the conscious threshold,

where my mind did then explore.

Guided by a hooded monk,

just one question was allowed,

the answer then revealed,

in enigma and a shroud.

We scaled a darkened building,

on the outside looking in,

and peeked inside the windows,

from where it did begin.

Each floor seemed so familiar,

as I watched the scenes unfold,

the further up we traveled,

the more I did behold.

Each block of time was a year,

and much brighter than the last,

as floors began to travel,

they passed by very fast.

Scaled building showed my life,

without the details known,

all recognized by the feel,

the atmospheres that I’d sown.

Looking back, I see it all,

as I understand the flight,

enlightenment as I grew,

in knowledge and in sight.

Open then were my eyes,

as light began expanding,

absorbing me into time,

defined my understanding.

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About this Poem: In my nineteenth year (1979), I had an out of body experience in a state of higher awakened consciousness after I had ingested a small amount of Psilocybin (Magic Mushrooms).

The transit to this state of consciousness happened about an hour after taking them and was like falling into a dream world while awake.

The experience happened at a very pivotal time in my life and state of the world. My life was just really beginning to bud while the world was at the heights of the cold war and at the beginning of a long descent into economic collapse. I felt lost and alone in a big scary world that I didn’t think I was going to survive as the world seemingly lived on the edge with the constant threat of nuclear war hanging over our heads. Many of the younger generation didn’t expect to live long and so we lived life to the fullest and burnt the candle at both ends.

As I Look back at the outer body experience and moment in time now, it felt as though a being within the conscious spirit world who was watching over me revealed himself to show me the impression of my entire life.

I can’t explain why it happened except that maybe it was an intervention from self destruction.

Lost Descendent

 

Lost Descendent

I rightly rage against injustice,

knowing how much better things could be,

yet my angers angst then blinds true vision,

and takes the future away from me.

Underwater brings a pending fear,

depths of darkness in fathoms below,

yet in the shallows where light there be,

is safety away from oceans tow.

To watch the skies that rise at sunset,

with a racing heartbeat in my cage,

a longing for repaired communion,

and empathy from a different age.

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About this Poem: A poem that reflects my soul through the first impressions of my Oracle Card.

My Past Life Oracle Card is: ATLANTIS

Card Meaning: - Your lifetime in ancient Atlantis is affecting your current situation. You have soul memories of this idyllic civilization that offered every imaginable wonder. There's a longing for the utopia that you unconsciously remember, and which you know is possible in this world.

Your soul also remembers the tragic ending of Atlantis, and you may have developed phobias about the ocean as a result. Although you love the sea, perhaps you prefer not to go swimming or sailing. You also recall how the majority of Atlanteans were peace-loving, with the exception of a few political leaders who misused crystal power to the detriment of all. So, you may be extra-sensitive to issues relating to political corruption in this lifetime.

Oracle Cards: The Past Life Oracle cards are a tool to help you remember key info about prior lifetimes. They also validate what you already suspect about past-life themes. Once you access these memories, your unconscious mind then supplies you with more details about your soul's journey through time. These cards are an ancient divination system based upon magnetic resonance, which says that any question you have will magnetically attract the card that most accurately provides your answer. These cards use Pythagorean systems of numerology which hold that every color, letter and number vibrates in mathematically precise ways.

These cards will evoke strong responses which represent centuries of trapped energies that need to be released. It is best to allow yourself to truly feel these emotions (rather than numbing yourself to them).

Do not let yourself wallow in or become obsessed with your past. Take frequent breaks and reality checks by focusing on your current life and taking care of your pressing responsibilities. This creates a balance as you slowly heal repressed emotions from prior lifetimes. The whole point of past life work is to heal ourselves of old fears or anger, so that we can enjoy this lifetime. We learn from the past and then we let it go.

You will realize how people in your current life played roles in prior lives. The reason you are back together could be due to a strong soul connection or an eternal love, or because there is unfinished business - usually in the form of unforgiveness. This is referred to as a karmic imbalance. You come back together - with the purpose of releasing old anger - as a form of detox. The karma is balanced when you can feel compassion for the other person's soul journey.

Although your physical body is temporal, your soul is eternal. You were created eons ago and you have had many experiences through many lifetimes. It has been seen that as people recall their previous lifetimes, they are simultaneously able to heal negative patterns and health conditions that are rooted in the past. At a soul level, you retain all of the information, lessons and memories that you have gathered. In many ways, you grow stronger and wiser with each lifetime. You also tend to incarnate with the same individuals, both because you love them and also to heal misunderstandings.

In the last flicker of light

 

In the last flicker of light

Wail at the sun to take its time,

and for the moon to be its rhyme,

for in the dying light there’ll be,

a chance for all mankind to see,

the garden path of natures fore,

a prayer for wisdom, hopes implore.

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The Activist Poet

The Taurid Collision is Coming

 

The Taurid Collision is Coming

Hurry to the Serapeum,

Saqqara on Giza’s plateau,

bring all of mankind’s achievements,

so the future will come to know,

an asteroid smashed our planet,

and brought our world to an end,

let’s give some hope to survivors,

so that they might rebuild again.

A seed bank of agriculture,

engravings of mathematics,

entombed underground our history,

with electrical schematics.

Each culture brings what defines them,

in a way that stands against time,

with maps and science for bearings,

and star charts to help with their climb.

Bring it to the Serapeum,

the lifeline that we will bestow,

our history encased in granite,

all gathered on Giza’s plateau.

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About this Poem: About 12,900 years ago, the Earth was hit by a comet that broke up into many pieces hitting and melting the Ice Sheets of North America and Europe, ending the last ice age. (Some of the ice was two miles thick.) The resulting flood and rapid climate change, wiped out thousands of plant and animal species and raised the oceans between 200 to 400 feet causing a breakdown of the ocean conveyor which in turn caused a rapid change in climate known as the Younger Dryas period.

When looking at all the ancient sites around the world in Egypt, Peru, Turkey, India, and many, many other places and the precision megalithic building and shaping of stone, it is clear that there was a more advanced civilization here before us. Accademia and its quackademics would have you believe otherwise, however, in the Internet era, they can no longer hide or deny what is staring the world in the face…that a civilization more advanced than us once thrived on this planet and when it was destroyed, it sent mankind back to a survival mode and reset.

We are what has emerged from that new beginning and even today we do not have the technology to shape stone as the ancients did.

It is my belief that this advanced civilization knew about its demise and set out to preserve their advanced knowledge and buried it in the perfectly squared, hollowed out granite boxes at the Serapeum at Saqqara.

If we are to look at mankind’s rapid rise over the past 160 years, it coincides with the discovery of the Serapeum at Saqqara in or around 1860. At no other time in history has mankind evolved so quickly. We went from wooden wheels to rocket ships and nuclear energy in a flash when compared to the time before. Here is a great missing link in the puzzle of our past and very much worth your attention.

Taurid Meteor Stream

The Younger Dryas

The Kailasa Temple (India)

Connections Far Away

 

Connections Far Away

Howling winds do whistle,

through windows in my dreams,

they carry peaceful thoughts,

that come behind the screams,

urging to move forward,

through shadows pale thick,

crossing every boundary,

of the lunatic.

Turmoil claims its umbrage,

parades before my sight,

above a darkened city,

are stars of pointed light,

they’re clasped in spiral arms,

like Fibonacci flowers,

that reign above the skies,

through an aster power.

Tethered thoughts and vision,

do whisper to my mind,

through the dream’s continuum,

that is undefined,

they reach across the vastness,

message they relay,

reassure we’re not alone,

connections far away.

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