2022 – The Reign of Tyrants

2022 – The Reign of Tyrants

Here we are in twenty twenty-two

the year insanity consumed the zoo

with lockstep fascism in the west

through destructive mandates that they pressed.

Thank goodness for our freedom convoy

that broke the spells with tears of joy

exposed the media in their disguise

and the government’s pernicious lies.

But insanity did not abate

as censorship claimed the western state

consolidation in point of view

with narratives controlled by a few.

Tyranny dropped its vaccine mandates

for foreign policy of the states

where a sponsored coup made civil war

an eight-year proxy on Ukraine’s shore.

No need to deny, peace was destroyed

Merkel confirmed Minsk was a ploy

to build an army, destroy their foe

Russian Donbass with nowhere to go.

The rise of monsters backed by the west

Svoboda, Azov and all the rest

a wave of violence and genocide

with propaganda that amplified.

Bombing stepped up in eastern Ukraine

by western backed forces once again

Donbass region all under attack

Russia no choice, protected their back.

Western leaders, subservient trolls

to U.S. dictates and monstrous goals

NATO continues encroaching more

rips up agreements they made before.

US sanctions for an added squeeze

hubris and lies their gravest disease

billions of dollars for marauders

Ukraine’s people as cannon fodder.

Energy war, unfolds on E.U.

striped away ties with Russia that grew

Nord Stream two bombed under the Sea

energy pipelines to Germany.

American hatchet across the Rhine

now all of Europe’s in steep decline

inflation has gripped the root of life

with energy loss leading their strife.

Russia targeted with U.S. bombs

Crimean bridge without any qualms

Russia replied across the Ukraine

electrical grid was bombed to contain.

Ukraine’s people are caught in between

western ignorance and war machine

and when Russia wins, tides will be turned

walls will remain, with hard lessons learned.

Hope prevails at end of the year

as twitter exposes the driving fear

the lies of tyrants in collusion

that push their evil twisted illusions.

The story concludes in twenty-three

by then I hope the people will see

the broadcast of lies that feathered belief

the reign of tyrants that brings no relief.

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About this Poem: When we entered 2022, there was a lockstep tyranny throughout the west forcing everyone to take dangerous mRNA shots. It was a very dark time for everyone that saw through the lies, as individual freedoms were under attack by the very nations that claimed to uphold them.

As people began to push back, governments throughout the western world dug in their heels and forced people to take these dangerous shots. It wasn’t until the Canadian Truckers Freedom Convoy rolled across the country into Ottawa with the rise of Canadian citizens across the political spectrum that the spell of fear on the population was truly broken. The ground swell of protest spread across the world shining its light and calls for freedom.

As the forced mandates began to fall under the pressure of civil protest, the same western governments, led by the U.S.A. then turned their sights on Ukraine. A country controlled by an evil regime with genocidal ambitions; that came to power under a violent western backed coup in 2014. The US doubled down on the eight-year civil war they had created in Ukraine and began a series of events that they knew would draw Russia into the conflict. Not only did the US continue their economic sanctions war on Russia, they forced the European nations to go along with them despite the serious destruction these sanctions had on the European economies. Europe is staring economic collapse in the face while the conflict in Ukraine comes to its conclusion.

There is no way back for Europe if they continue following the belligerent foreign policy of the American government. The Ukrainian and Russian people are same and are interconnected. When this conflict ends, and the genocidal puppets are removed from power in Ukraine, the voices of the Ukrainian people will once again be free to speak out against the atrocities they endured under the violent fascist regime that Europe and the West backed.

As 2022 comes to an end, we are beginning to see the truth come out as the Twitter files prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, that censorship was placed across the internet by a collusion of corporate power and government; which by definition, is the very substance of fascism.

There is hope for 2023 in that eyes will open. We’ve come a long way in a year and things will probably not get better economically, but I believe there will be more transparency and public debate as long as free speech continues to regain its footing on twitter.

Links:

[01] The Western Collapse into Fascism
[02] The Activist Poet on the Freedom Convoy
[03] Merkel Confirms Ukraine Peace Deal was a Ploy
[04] Twitter Files Detail COVID Censorship
[05] US Spies Pushed Twitter to Censor “Anti-Ukraine” Narratives - Media
[06] Patrick Lancaster – A crowdfunded journalist covering the Russia / Ukraine war within Russian controlled territory.
[07] The Duran - Informative discussions on Geo-political, geo-economic issues and current events.
[08] Southfront - Military Analysis and Intelligence

[09] 21st Century Wire - A better news and discussion alternative

[10] Eva Bartlett - Investigative Journalist

Fallen Idols

Fallen Idols

One by one the idols fell

draped within the covid spell

words of fire before the fall

pushed the mandates one and all.

Common sense and truth they spurned

plead forgiveness to those they burned

harm they’ve done not in their thoughts

and still believe in the shots.

Shots that cause young heart attacks

death and injuries by the vax

warnings trampled in their wake

by puppet actors they did make.

Arrogance and hubris crept

words of caring so inept

goosestep marching with the news

narratives with twisted views.

Now that truth has come to pass

breaks the spell upon the mass

light is shining, rising fast

on who said what in the past.

One by one the idols fell

draped within the covid spell

words of fire before the fall

pushed the mandates one and all.

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About this Poem: Right from the beginning, movie, music and television idols pushed the twisted narratives on mask, lockdowns, isolation and mRNA shots against a backdrop of evidence of their harm. Some of these idols went out of their way to demonize anyone that disagreed with the governments covid narratives, calling for the unvaccinated to be locked up and removed from society completely, even when evidence proved that the shots were causing massive injuries and premature deaths (still happening). Now that twitter is exposing the censorship and that government colluded with google, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter and Microsoft to censor the conversation of doctors, professors, investigative journalists and whistleblowers, we are seeing an awakening happening while silence lingers within the news and entertainment industry…this poem speaks to the illusion that these so-called idols care about you…they do not.

Twitter Files Detail COVID Censorship Campaign

Open Wounds

 

Open Wounds

The feverish clouds gave it away

valley slate couldn’t hide it for long

industrial engine, open wounds

all out of place and didn’t belong.

Voracious feeding of power greed

made easy by the new arrivals

of slave camps filled with the dispossessed

who barely held onto survival.

Our lands invaded and seized by kings

cut and parceled for crowns taxation

borders drawn on what they stole

that then evolved into our nations.

Their empire flourished around the world

they smothered us with rules and restrictions

that loss of freedoms for all our clans

with constant threat of eviction.

Industries grew, banks created,

governing parasites' controlled it all

through mortgage games and interest rates, 

and inflation before our fall.

No matter whom or where we're from,

our stories are filled with grief

prohibited from owning our lives

by narratives controlled by a thief.

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The Ride

The Ride

Essence plays upon the earth

it weaves and dives the peaks with grace

a thrilling ride of sturm und drang

with hush of wind upon the face.

Every climb, a mountain conquered

and every fall the ride does make

a gift of freedom and a choice

compiles a lifetime in its wake.

Memories made are set to film

to play in hind sight on the train

like shooting stars, they come to pass

endearing sessions in their refrain.

Glee and joy, inseparable twins

beam from eyes wide open and tall

these moments made from all we touch

long deep breaths to catch them all.

To look ahead when mind is full,

when time and breathing are then short

we wish to live it once again

this ride and gift we do exhort.

Rebirth in essence on the earth,

to weave and dive the peaks with grace

relive the ride of sturm und drang

with hush of wind upon our face.

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Notes: Sturm und drang - A proto-Romantic movement in German literature and music which occurred from the late 1760s to the early 1780s, emphasizing individual subjectivity and the free expression of emotions.

Stockholm

 

Stockholm

Take us to the village square,

the town between the bridges,

Agnafit may claim its name,

above the lofty ridges.

Mälaren greets Baltic Sea,

and boats are laden to go,

to trading centers on the coast

where ancient stories flow.

The Æsir gods and Vanir,

no longer wage their wars,

a Viking town that still remains,

in the drinking halls indoors.

A hardy toast to the king,

a ritual at this haunt,

days of old, return in runes

at the Aifur restaurant.

Songs of journeys, stories told,

at gatherings in great halls

where mead does flow from lofty cups

with boisterous cheers of Skål!

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Poem Notes: Agnafit is the original old town where Stockholm was founded. It is located where Lake Mälaren meets the Baltic Sea.

The Æsir gods and Vanir are the gods of the Vikings

Aifir = The Aifur Restaurant – Stockholm Sweden

Skål means Cheers

Migration Retreat

 

Migration Retreat

Rolling greens touch the sky,

below the mountain peek,

its jagged teeth draped in snow

where roads less traveled meet.

Sovereign essence sails free

above blue turquoise skies

taken by the earth to pray,

I cast my old disguise.

Operit winds sing their songs

observe migrating geese,

where I’m at in my mind

I’ve come to find my peace.

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*Note: Operit = the operatic sound of the wind

Chains

Chains

Raging monsters have seized my soul,

my hands and feet are tied and bound,

a lonely place reserved in hell,

where no tobacco can be found.

It’s dry as ice, this forsaken place,

anxious moments on the rocks

fermented spirits sing their songs

and all the silver demons talk.

“It’s ok! What’s one gonna’ do?

There’s no harm in a little think,

wash all your wee troubles away.

Relax, and have that smoke and drink.”

Then those ripping chains of rage

with iron shards of conviction rake,

casting essence into the flames

where light brigade in gallop, breaks.

The war is on, in defiance

and the battles rage everyday

to break your spirit and your will

the demons, relentless play.

As time does pass like broken glass

and mine fields claim their victims,

the old world dies another death

from chains and games of addiction.

A Mirage of Time

 Artist info: Watercolor by Viktoria Prischedko

A Mirage of Time

Winds of providence have increased,

by breath of dreams that transit east,

they wave in blue and pallor white,

to fill my mind, transfix my sight.

I’m captured by hermetic signs,

that speak to artists in our times,

providing vision and consent,

to strike a chord that’s heaven sent.

Entangled essence, Aegean seas,

sounds of Mykonos in the breeze,

moving slowly, in slender forms,

unaware of approaching storms.

Mirage of time in beryl scenes,

a polity of diverse means,

life moved slower, a different pace,

protected by Apollo’s grace.

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The Poets Crossroads

The Poets Crossroads

I think I’d like to play a game,

where famous poets stake their claim

around a table we’d apply

our crafty words upon the di.

A jumpin’ joint on southern road

where poets gather to unload

their rolling words from dusk till dawn

with bois’trus crowds to cheer them on.

On stage the poets would gather so

with Hughs, Cummings and Edgar Poe,

Will Shakespeare, Yeats and Angelou,

Mark Twain, Frost, Li Bai, and Du Fu.

All would journey to play the game,

called to table, their pride and fame

with fausty judge that talks in rhyme,

haiku panel that measures time.

Night after night excitement grows

when metrists deal their crafty prose

to challenge all their fellow bards

all measured strictly by their yards.

Best brevity’s chocked full and loose

chromatic colors give them spruce

a limb of words that they can strut

but careful now, cause’ they can cut.

It all happens and unfolds,

at poet’s corner and crossroads

don’t believe me, just come and see,

on fun filled website called A.P. 😉

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Link to "All Poetry" Website

Dream Home

Dream Home

If only I could build a home,

on forest land that wasn't owned,

I'd build it by the rivers edge,

enough away, above a ledge.

I’d choose a spot with lots of trees,

that stand like guardians to the breeze,

in coexistence to assure,

with lots of wildlife to be sure.

I’d grow my food that I would share,

and during harvest, say a prayer,

look up to stars and then immerse,

give thanks to God and universe.

I ponder how to make it true,

this dream of mine that I’ve thought through,

before the punch clock steals my prime,

and I’m not left with any time.

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Propaganda

Propaganda

What is history when not read

or viewed from all perspectives,

but left to an anchor’s feed

with obsidian objectives.

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Under the Ruins

Under the Ruins

In the quiet moments of passing moons,

when the owl glides obsidian air,

not a heartbeat is heard,

but the thump is sure felt,

as talons grasp its prey on the dunes.

Those left behind are spattered in mourning,

sand, a silver glow smothered in shadows,

many heartbeats are heard,

and their thumping’s sure felt,

by empathic witness under the ruins.

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A Parents Promise

 

A Parents Promise

Behind the window, tucked away

our promise waits by night and day

with pine cones, oranges and a fire

a place to sleep and retire.

Although you’re out there on your own,

we’ll always be here by the phone,

with ear to listen and advice,

not too preachy but concise.

There’ll always be a home for you

to help you heal and see you through,

no matter when, no matter how,

we’ll take the burden from your brow.

When you’re hungry, we’ll be there,

to help you through what drives despair,

to greet you with a pleasant smile,

and welcome you to stay awhile.

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A Six Week Drift

 A Six Week Drift

The seasons changed, a six-week drift,

the magnetic poles have shifted,

less geese in autumn, flying forth,

the weather’s sleeping in the north.

Leaves stayed green through October,

missing color left me sober,

the seasons changed a six-week drift,

but then the cold brought autumn swift.

Now winter hovers over spring,

the seasons changed, a six-week drift,

cooler weather through month of June,

the warmer clime won’t come too soon.

Magnetic shield weakens so,

a spinning planet dynamo,

normal cycle in polar shift,

the seasons changed, a six-week drift.

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The Race

The Race

My race began in nineteen sixty.

I’m aged and weather-worn, still afloat

with sails torn and failing rudder,

but in the race with my rebel boat.

Yet time has claimed so many things

and so many friends I’d come to know,

all of us racing to catch the sun

before the falling of winter snow.

Ocean currents forever blowing,

much faster now in these gathered years.

I’m sitting still as the tides roll on

where I ponder victories and my fears.

I ponder on all the people met,

many challenges within the race,

to live forever, we did believe

with excitement and blistering pace.

But storms arose, our connections lost,

the racing season came to an end,

my attention fixed on building boats,

while losing touch with all of my friends.

I questioned how my world diminished

as my communion began to fade.

I dropped my sail to watch the sun,

discovered my path was poorly made.

I changed my habits, rebuilt my boat,

studied all the maps that passed me by,

to then discover the secret isle

that answered all my questions why.

and as I sit here watching the sun,

with the new connections I have found,

I find we’re of the older mind,

but morally in tune and conscious bound.

Although time changes the path’s we’re on,

with the barbs and spears that left their trace,

the lessons learned and the friendships made,

were all a blessing in proper place.

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Where Have All Our Statesmen Gone?

 

Where Have All Our Statesmen Gone?

Where have all our statesmen gone,

with interests not involved in crime

that show respect and honesty

and build our country with their time.

Instead we have a useless bunch

with condescending smiles

all lousy actors, some insane

a hubris that compiles.

Forever they keep floating up

no way to get rid of their smell

sewage made for TV screens

these candidates all from hell.

A condescending carrousel

that spins around to change the face

with pure excrement in the wings

that they expect us to embrace.

Statements made, subversive speeches

with crafted empty platitudes

while rubbing shoulders with their kind

in club G7 attitudes.

“Look at us, we’re the gods of all!”

“you peons will do as we say!”

their arrogance is out of hand

with belligerence on display.

Regardless of the year to date,

regardless of western nation,

politics is mental disease

and parasitic mutation.

Bush, Obama, Trump and Biden

they claim a moral position

while burning down economies

for merger and transition.

Sarkozy, Hollande and Macron,

swagger arrogance as French kings

they boast themselves as thunder

but have those paper bag swings.

Johnson, Truss, now Rishi Sunak

are another English layer

of that condescending factor

by bad actors and bad players.

But no ones more embarrassing

than Canada’s Justin Trudeau

cause he’s just like that Harper

with a narcissistic show.

They’re all involved in council’s greed

and the C.F.R.’s corporate game

partnered with the banks and WEF,

that ruthless triad has no shame.

And Germany, what happened there?

Have politicians lost their minds?!

They’ve turned their country upside down

with massive shock of fiscal kind.

Don’t get me started with Ardern

to New Zealand, she’s a lune

callous queen so condescending

no intelligence, she’s immune.

So where have all our statesmen gone,

with interests not involved in crime

that show respect and honesty

and build our countries with their time.

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Little Worth

 

Little Worth

I shall not like to find myself

in a country that’s at war,

for the depths of that depression

just chills me to my core.

Unlike the newsreel movies,

so illusive of the feel,

in reality, there’s anguish,

for the lives that they do steal.

…and outrage breeds determined might

with solemn inhumanity,

that never heals over time

in remembrance of calamity.

Of all the wars I’ve come to know

through my prison here on earth,

I find that I’m more angry,

and that money has little worth.

The Activist Poet - Volume 3

 

My 3rd and final book in the Activist Poet series is now available at Amazon!

The Activist Poet Vol 3 is more than a book of poetry, it is a book of truth and information with social, political and economic commentary.

Topics covered span the insane years of 2021 - 2022 including, "Coerced Inoculations", the "Govt Health Pass", "Fighting Back", the "Freedom Convoy", "Ukraine", "Europe", "Energy Supplies", "Economic Collapse", the "Decline of Europe and North America", the "US / NATO Proxy War on Russia" and the "Establishments End Game".

Also included are important links, messages and two dedications to people that have influenced my activism, “Eva Bartlett” and “Michael C. Ruppert”. It is my way of saying thank you. 😊

May the words in this book open eyes and unite people across Canada and across the world.

The following is inspired by a Mark Twain quote but modified to reflect current times…

“Our livelihoods, rights and freedoms are never in greater danger than when our governments are in session.” ~ Stewart Brennan

The Activist Poet Volume 3

Now available at Amazon World Wide

For Amazon Canada, click here.

War Weary

 

War Weary

In Viet Nam, where my shock began

American news with one-way views

the channel change, with the contrast strange

so high on the hill, “thou shalt not kill”

children were running for their lives.

Then came Iraq with U.S. attack

American news with one-way views

the end of trade with US blockade

and Madeleine spit, “it was worth it”.

children were starving to their graves.

Afghanistan, a new war began

American news with one-way views

the boogieman verses uncle Sam

climbing inflation to damnation

children terrorized in their homes.

Iraq again to inflict more pain

American news with one-way views

no W.M.D.’s, U.N. striptease

white powder and war guns louder

more children buried in the sand.

In Palestine, there’s a bloody line

American news with one-way views

seventy-five years all filled with tears

a cauldron of lies as its disguise

children are tortured, burned and bombed.

Two thousand eight began wars of hate

American news with one-way views

on foreign soil where there’s oil

insanity, and calamity

millions more buried in the sand.

Libyan dreams to NATO extremes

Syrian pride against terrors side

Yemen’s poor against the Saudi war

the eight-year war on the Donbass poor

American news with one-way views

War? I’m weary of who’s in charge.

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The Activist Poet

Matrix Glitch

 

Matrix Glitch

There’s only so much one can do

to lend a hand and see them through

they must be willing to unlearn

all that leaves them unconcerned.

The way we live is all controlled

programmed to do what we are told

minds are mushed by cell’s and T.V.

cast in illusions most can’t see.

Our education molds a pawn

critical thinking’s frowned upon

and when someone breaks from the box

a dressing down comes from the hawks.

Common knowledge that’s built on lies

permeates people in disguise

consumer driven, debts galore

feeds the twisted banking core.

Disposing things to large landfills

mountains of trash made by their will

receding forests to the sea

oceans filled with plastic debris.

Shareholder greed is all I see

robber barons get off Scott free

higher rents while poverty grows

why is it we’re struggling so?

From my vantage, I see the glitch

it won’t take much to make a switch

expose the matrix, open eyes

and watch a better world arise.

Yin and yang are in the balance

held together by a valance

and should this curtain just undo

our consciousness would then come through.

With natural laws we’ve been given

educate to nature driven

build community to embrace

we’ll make the world a better place.

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On the Open meadow, I can see forever

 

Photo Courtesy of Si-On

On the Open meadow, I can see forever

Verdant plains so lush and fair

intoxicating greens fill the air

respiring meadow, catches the eyes

mist has lifted, under azure skies.

Wind picks up, performs with the hay

in perfect sonata the two of them play

above the chords are freedom and flight

that sing of companionship to the light.

Off in the distance the tide is leaving

beryl oceans convey my breathing

an opus of life in perfect communion

my daily routine with natures reunion.

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The European Flying Circus

 

The European Flying Circus

E.U. played their power game

forced their members into shame

now they teeter on the brink

sanctioned Russia, did not think.

Germans fumbled Nord stream two

now they don’t know what to do

sergeant Scholz leads all the sins

of bankrupt leaders in Berlin.

EU members have no gas

sanctions now, it will not pass

poverty will seize them all

one by one their leaders fall.

Europe’s union in defeat

economics in retreat

Von der Leyen holds the crown

shakes the E.U. upside down.

Boris Johnson finally gone

Monty Python got it wrong

twits survive the stupid race

Lizzy Truss now in your face.

Draghi gone in Italy

broken roads to Tripoli

soaring debts now bring the worst

not the last time nor the first.

Spain jumps on the E.U. bus

calls for sanctions on the Rus

Pedro Sanchez sports the lie

acting like some big tough guy.

Energy drives prices high

inflation rockets to the sky

Europe panics, fights within

Poland ready, pulls the pin.

Viktor Orban warns the lot

Hungary will not be bought

continues buying Russian gas

until Christmas, gets a pass.

Macron turns to foreign soil

desperate now for gas and oil

war room maps are under lights

Africa is in their sights.

Unrest mounts on E.U. shores

stoking fires to start wars

global trade has split in two

with Europe looking like a zoo.

Mounting threats from EU crown

Russian leaders won’t back down

didn’t start the stupid war

but they will end it at their door.

Europe’s needs are right next door

no need to bleed anymore

break the contract with U.S.

get yourselves out of their mess.

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(The Activist Poet July 30th, 2022)

Africa

 

Africa

Lightening strikes across the dunes

displacing thoughts from tiny rooms

broken pipelines oil and gas,

shattered like Egyptian glass.

Far away in breaking news

mountains made with tiny views

shattered like Egyptian glass

truth the victim in their cast.

Blood is rising, people mass

shattered like Egyptian glass

interference someone’s drones

powered all by banking loans.

Shattered like Egyptian glass

Europe has a looting pass

from south to east, north to west

NATO nations take the rest.

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About this Poem: Africa has been under siege for all its resources by European and NATO powers for a very long time, but especially for its oil and gas in modern times as we’ve seen through the wars on African oil and gas producing nations such as Libya, Sudan, Nigeria, Angola, and others. The theft of resources by European and NATO nations is not just limited to oil and gas however, but extends across the spectrum of commodities that support the European and US parasitic interests.

Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi wanted to unify the African nations together under a fair common gold backed currency. Unfortunately, NATO, the US and Europe put an end to that. The African nations need to unite within their own countries and then together to protect themselves from the scavengers of colonialism which continues to threaten the entire continent.

Lights, Camera, Action

 

Lights, Camera, Action

When everyone’s at the top of their game

for project of worth and not for the fame

concentration, and professional cast

bring forth a picture that’s meant to last.

Actors, stage hands camera men and grip

directors, producers and the writers of script

the music and lighting, props and design

goals do exceed when all do align.

The setting begins in black and white,

with shadow of bars on window of light

smoke then rises as the camera pans low

to a table and chairs on prisoner’s row.

Pans to a face for the viewers apprise

there’s a worried look in his distant eyes,

with echoed voices just outside the room,

his cigarette burns in a greyish plume.

The door then opens, detective’s step through,

content with their options and what they’ll do,

the questions begin with where he had been,

“and don’t lie to us cause you had been seen.”

The scene then moves too a place in his mind,

where an intimate smile’s clearly outlined,

the scenes in color with joy in the air

vision of beauty with long auburn hair.

“You will talk to us” cop comes into view,

slamming his fist down between the two

prisoner stays quiet, goes back to his dream

to unfold the story in next group of scenes.

CUT

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Shall I write a book? 😉 Do you want to know more? Of how he escapes, and walks out the door. And why was he there, what did he do, and who was that girl he was speaking to?

The stories begun, I have you on hook, but if you want more just wait for the book. Great films begin there. 😉

Abandoned

 

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Abandoned

Spinning wheel, spinning time

clocks abandoned with a chime

cabinets with rustic flair

window panes let in the air.

Household plants have overgrown

thrived on sunlight on their own

watered by a leaky roof

house no longer weatherproofed.

Leaves have gathered on the floor

no one lives here anymore

house abandoned long ago

yet secret treehouse still aglow.

When night peaked in with its gloom

oil lamps seen, lit the room

favorite books passed time away

kept the demons all at bay.

Rumpelstiltskin comes to mind

for here is spun a home so fine

that did not wait for others claim

abandonment is such a shame.

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Notes: Rumpelstiltskin is a German fairy tale. It was collected by the Brothers Grimm in the 1812 edition of Children's and Household Tales. The story is about an imp who spins straw into gold in exchange for a girl's firstborn.

Towards Our Own End

 

Towards Our Own End

The world’s divided by western decree

all under control across earth and sea

yet chaos consumes where order should be

while poverty plagues all humanity.

U.S. and Britain are dragging us down

they’re using Ukraine as their battleground

with NATO partners and weapons inbound

in a proxy war with Russia they’re found.

They’ve cornered themselves with all of their lies,

have nowhere to go except their demise

inflation’s rampant, economy dies,

for oil and gas are fading supplies.

Wars by proxy, they’ve created a foe

controlled by the press to put on a show

they need our consent to give it a go

Russia and China won’t back down you know.

War is coming if we continue this trend

by western leaders who refuse to bend

they’ve created a foe instead of a friend

and we keep on moving towards our own end.

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