American Freedom

American Freedom

Those damned Americans are at it again,

another country down the drain,

a nation tried to claim its autonomy,

a moral right to sustain its economy.

But the Americans frown on independence,

so they refuse to allow a nations ascendance.

That’s why our days are filled with wars,

and all away from American shores.

How is it they have this right?

…this judge and jury, with military might?

They force a country to its knees’,

by theft of resources and the assets they seize.

U.S. wars start by sanctions,

plans that culminate into a coup,

and in this choke hold, if a nation persists,

the U.S. military, blast their way through.

Targets then in disarray, cities consumed by fire,

crushed by American freedom and their greedy desire.

Economic slavery is all that remains,

of a once proud people, now in chains.

Culture destroyed, population in famine,

all to please American Mammon.

What will happen when they’ve claimed them all?

each nation enslaved in the overhaul.

One thing’s for sure, a dictatorship has amassed,

for the days of freedom, have long since passed.

Replenishment

Replenishment

Weighty days compound my sorrows,

they build uneasy themes,

impounding all my tomorrows,

they seep into my dreams.

I close my eyes to block it out,

reach for positive force,

where flow of light removes my doubt,

and connects me with the source.

My essence gathers in the light,

a shrine in time and space,

to energize with great insight,

reset my earthly pace.

Where prescience guides my memory,

to themes I was before,

they envelop time and rhythm,

with mana that restores.

While the imprint of my program,

replays the task at hand,

connects with hidden memory,

I bear and understand.

Proof is given by inner sight,

to dream is all we need,

we’ll find ourselves within the light,

where consciousness is freed.

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3rd Edit April 10th, 2021

Across the River Styx

Across the River Styx

Misty mornings, coming to,

subconscious world on a ridge,

forest dead where once it grew,

above a rickety bridge.

The road ahead, where life must go,

through mists of truthful meaning,

a meeting place of life and death,

where the bridge of Styx is leaning.

Treading narrow paths of vision,

over raging rivers of before,

one missed step could spell your end,

and plunge you through the door.

To a meeting place where essence churns,

and truth may be revealed,

into the waters where memories burn,

and the ego is unconcealed.

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Amends

Amends

Peace and contentment,

answers in the rain,

washing sorrows from us,

to ease us from our pain.

A new day rises,

from the one that's fallen apart,

while darkness wanes to shadows,

comfort confirms the start.

It is a time of new beginnings,

a season of old ends,

a reason to remember,

a time to be with friends.

...and there upon the crest of dreams,

where conscious thoughts do flow,

awaits for you the golden key,

that makes your essence glow.

For in a world of new beginnings,

is a place that never ends,

internal, it is calling,

for you to make amends.

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This Poem was inspired by “Carillon”, a beautiful song by David Ian Roberts

A New Year's Message for the World

A New Year's Message for the World

Life is but a fleeting moment, a short period of time where everyone is engaged in a lifelong journey to seek the answers and reasons for why they are here. At the same time, it is important to build the foundations for a better world, to secure a future for our communities, which can only be achieved through unity.

We have yet to find agreement on the procedures on how to get there collectively even though the map is in everyone’s hands…

We learn from our mistakes and from each other, but today we are focused in trying to destroy each others illusion’s instead of building a bridge for our common bond in compassion, morality and vision of building a better world.

Patience…patience with the heart of empathy for all life, is the ultimate lesson we must learn if we are to lay the foundations of our future.

…and so, another year begins with an open mind in anticipation that the world will come together as one; to rebuild our communities with moral common sense and vision for the future as we eradicate the illnesses of greed and power that plague our minds.

One day we will return to the empathy that connects our essence to each other and the stars in the night sky…and on that day, everyone will understand and smile.

Happy New Year everyone!

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. ;)