The Message in Me

An older poem, restructured to encompass latest developements on global affairs.
Order out of chaos / divide and conquer.

There’s a distant wail on the north wind.
It’s just the collective soul
of creation, crying for her children.
A cosmic Banshee,
warning of what’s unfolding.

Myriad abominations, lauded.
Empty vessels and rampant narcissism,
rules the day.
Sociopathic psychopaths and liars
form a global ‘Old Boy’s Network’
raping economies
and plotting further wars.

Meanwhile for the teens…

Hollow-eyed, clay idols,
sold out to the satanic,
polluting vulnerable minds,
dance demonically, in pre-meditated,
trance-inducing, subliminal flickers
on TV screens.
Closset mind control of
Prozac damaged brains…
causing a death-spiral of hope.

Frustration rocks my Richter scale;

I cannot swallow my pain.
So I offer it in alms
to the archetypical minstrel.
Maybe his tune will transmute
this agony of awareness.
Or give me some respite from the anguish?

Time to call in the Centaurs.

I am seared by the suffering all around.
This seeping-sadness, shared by millions.
While half the world concerns itself with
such empty distractions!

And Gaia burns while fools play.
Our Mother is dying!
Her waters poisoned, lungs polluted.
As starfish melt silently
on ocean floors…
and death sweeps on currents
from Japanese shores.

Honesty is smothered,
derided -dangerous.
Elders disrespected,
discarded.
The innocence of childhood
stamped out and laid waste
by cynical social engineers
with dark agenda boots.
Paedophilia rampant
in highest towers,
‘Neath an air of complacency
hopelessness flowers.

Genetic manipulation has broken
natural laws,
sowing the bleakest of harvests.

A New World is a-rising
But it’s anything but brave.

While unemployed youth
live cyber half-lives,
disenfranchised from purpose
and meaning. No empowering rites of passage
Only the blackmail of political correctness
to stifle sovereignty in the throat.
Beauty and integrity is sacrificed
on the alter of greed.

Can’t you hear the drums
or the marching feet?
The swathes of manipulated mankind
bringing chaos to Europe.
Time yet to make a stand!

Or do we simply submit
meekly like lambs
before their slayer?

Some of us
will never
offer our throats…

And ‘Spring’
ridicules the Message
in me.