[punctuate as you will]
[punctuate as you will]
Between a barrier and a boundary
the threshold of Imagination
All of human history slaps us in the face. Screams
look at me! Witness: I did not end. I am born again and again to grow and shed infinite skins. Potential does not die but can be bound by the drawing of a line.
You, who crossed a thousand Rubicons of shame and hope, for love of my gifts: built walls and prayed for unicorns; slew dragons and mended fences.
The sum of all human consciousness is here, now. Who can contain its conscience? Where shall it be comprehended?
Witness. Else, why are you?
Every age knows fools and visionaries. Filter your vicarious indulgences but all is revealed, eventually. Each, to their unspeakable acts and heroic deeds, be true. By your own lines, rise or fall.
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honoured one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter.
I am the members of my mother.
I am the barren one and many are her sons.
I am she whose wedding is great
and I have not taken a husband.
I am the midwife and she who does not bear.
I am the solace of my labor pains.
I am the bride and the bridegroom
and it is my husband who begot me.
I am the mother of my father
and the sister of my husband
and he is my offspring.
I am the silence that is incomprehensible
and the idea whose remembrance is frequent.
I am the voice whose sound is manifold
and the word whose appearance is multiple.
I am the utterance of my name.
For I am knowledge and ignorance.
I am shame and boldness.
I am shameless; I am ashamed.
I am strength and I am fear.
I am war and peace.
Give heed to me. ⚡️
Equality does not patronise
This is my body
This is my mind
This is my soul
When selecting which ‘Will of the People’ to thwart
Politicians give plenty expedient thought
And whatever Theresa believes she has bought
Big Bad John says the Don is unfitted to talk.
Speaker Bercow opposes the government ranks
Who with desperate haste in their Brexity tanks
Have so shamelessly pimped out the pomp of the Realm
To a monster addicted to taking the helm.
As expected the Brexits are all apoplectic
‘The Art of the Deal’ is their feel of the day
And the U. S. of A says they think we’re forgetting
They’ve just put that Churchill bust back on display.
Behold! Brexity Britain, integrity stripped
By a hopium Blighty with mob-handed grip,
Where to step out of line is the new imposition
And those who oppose brave uncommon position.
But John Bercow’s line is a dignified wall
Between Trumpet the sump pit and Westminster Hall
And as Donald is fickle and dumb and uncouth
He is favoured the better, forbidden of proof.
BBC News, February 7th, 2017: “A matter for Parliament”
BBC ‘This Week’ April 2nd, 2015 – Big John: https://youtu.be/x-XAOCHPXgs
Each human incarnation sees
The evolution of the Soul,
Whose manifestations are,
In and of each Self,
A form absorbing
All that has been and all that is
And a force propelling
That which is to be,
In constant elevation of the Cosmos
And unto Eternity;
Each Soul, the Chariot of God.
Bright hope of Imbolc be with you 🕯 xXx
Brexit is all smitten
With the label ‘Global Britain’
Reminiscent of the time the Sun
Was always in position;
Gonna give EU a kicking
If it doesn’t get its way.
[Every self-entitled bulldog has its day]
Gonna threaten, preach and overreach,
Cajole and whine and then beseech,
As self-inflicted victims,
Sudden keen on Foreign Aid.
Gonna get an awful shocking
At the mocking they engage,
When the only offers knocking
Are from profiteers and souvenir
Collectors making hay.
Having doubled down on doublespeak,
Perfidious Blighty’s gonna reap
Some karma as alarming sway
of asymmetric power licks its lusty lips
And squeezes dry
A desperate pipsqueak’s isolated