The devil takes his cuts
surveying all with his piercing white eyes
digging all probing all

Sick of Divine Grace
Satan's in green shaded eyes pained with envy
he's for coveting all  

Lucifer in red shades
showtime for merciless malicious destruction
lets go drink blood

Moloch Father of Lies
needs no dark shades for trillions and one spades
seek ready employment

Yes serpent woos the wife
and hangs an innocent man for speaking the truth
its all been done before

So Old Nick's in bed with you
you speak nihilism and slander with your master
and repay good with evil

Archfiend, has no friends
you are his to misuse torment deride and burn
you have sold your souls

You lie you've seen a leech
yet you and your master and his infernal army
are the leeches and you know

In your sins you apportion blame
in darkness you try to undo God's work and glory
vengeance is mine says the Lord



https://youtu.be/RnQSa_AVpSo

The idea came in a flash
or so it seemed
see how from rays filled morns
to dusky fetching nightfall's
there are hordes cursed to see nowt
but the bad and woeful sides of life
with minds that claims gutters as homes

Entertaining in cesspits
bathing in slurries and muds
like mud larks and swine's
the first class losers of our times
entombed in the cacophony of gain less disarray
the dead minds of the mindless
resurrected in the damaged and afflicted
hoping with *****'s staffs and cloth in cowards rags
baying negativities and woebegone
from here to kingdom gone

So the idea came in a flash
its the age herds and lemmings
drinking at the Serengeti of neurotics
so lets create an instagram account
welcoming lepers and basement moaners
come ye cowards and sados
narcissists and sadists needed
loonies slack jawed dribblers and tin heads
soap-dodgers and undatables all welcome
this is your nirvana
your ancestorial sewage disposal bin
hashtag
Losers will hate

So I'm richer than you

Yeah, but you didn't rule a whole Nation
and anyway I'm also a multi-millionaire

But Dad, aren't you a Socialist

Shush sonny, don't even go there
do I look like some envy-ridden
under-achieving, psychopathic
semi-illiterate blinded idiot to you

but Dad I could swear you said you are

No, no, no I am a centrist, you know
the sensible ones, the Realist, we drink champagne
and shop at Harrods and make wealth, and yes we
do tax the rich but also show them how to avoid
paying too much, we are not politicians for nothing

hey Dad, what about all those millions of poor people
thought you are working class and have these peoples
backs

Listen sonny, I am nothing of the sort, how dare you
I am middle-class, went to Oxford, practised Law,
worked hard, aspired, have great leadership qualities
and I amcharming and personable, working class my Rolex  

Listen, let me tell you, those mugs are cannon fodders, they
beg to be led and told what to do, they cannot think for themselves
its a sad fact of life but true. They actually enjoy being mediocre
and blaming everybody else for their self destructive lives.
If your mother and I had let you grow amongst them you wouldn't
be the millionaire you are today.

Dad, do you think they will start harassing me and giving me grief
everywhere, calling me posh and intimidating me.

No son. they wouldn't dare, they are all cowards and really easy
to brainwash and manipulate. I've done that for years, they never wise up. Just make sure you buy your rounds at the pub and call them mate.

Dad, I don't go to the pub, I go to Nobu or The Ivy!







It’s an unfortunate fact of birth, forever being referred to as the son of former Prime Minister Tony Blair.

But perhaps Euan Blair’s latest achievement rather takes the edge off: by ignoring his famous father’s education policy, the 38-year-old is now not only three times richer than his dad, with an estimated fortune of £160m compared to his father’s reported £44m, but now also owns a grander house. By quite a way.

According to reports, the Yale graduate and former Morgan Stanley banker has just bought and moved into a £22m, five-storey townhouse in west London, featuring an “iceberg basement” with a swimming pool, 50-foot reception room and a lift for his fleet of expensive cars. The palatial seven-bedroom pad is reportedly more than double the value of his father’s £10m London pad.

He said
Let there be Light
and there was Light
They said
What light
we see no Light
He replied
Look its all around
in your hearts and souls
They replied
we have no hearts or souls
He said
then you live in Darkness
They replied in unison
it doesn't bother us
are New Age and doing our bit
to save the planet
have you seen the Energy bills lately
and anyway its all your fault
you said you created us all equally
then you made some people richer
and some kings and royalty
with wealth and privileges
how is that democratic
And He smiled
'Oh ye of little minds'

And once upon nothing
these are the days when we wear our chains proud
and our grapevines oozes
the most proficient untruths and falsehoods
and we are dramatized in frenzied nonsensical
glorified in puppetry
consumed in the artistry of our masters
who deftly lays the plotlines and pulls the strings
as we eat the salted power
of esprit de corps marinated in manipulation and delusions
ours is not to question why
we move with the motion of our chains
turbo charged by our basic instincts
fueled by our limitations and ignorance
our puppet masters ignite us and we come alive
powered
this is techno power
this is salt power
but perhaps with time
we will be humans
with our own minds
plain real ordinary humans with hearts and soul
capable of making our own decisions
is that not what real power is about
for esprit de corps is a patterned umbrella for indentured servants

They say familiarity breeds contempt
I say No
familiarity breeds intimacy
and intimacy can easily lead to Canal knowledge
which in my books
mean that sort of knowledge
can be easily dumped into the nearest canal
do you see my point

I do subtractions additions and multiplications
every day
but it doesn't mean I remember all the Mathematics tutors
I'd ever had.
Go figure.........hahaha

Because
I'm worth it

it's a no-brainer
simples does as simples know

And I see the civilisation
and benign order
where millions of all hues
coexist humanely
without a gun in plain sight
yet instant help
if clouds ever gets hot and dark

And I see smiling people
a joke never far
and things and many places
exactly as stated
rolling roads with no cracks
pay your money
and get the service you seek

And I see eateries and cafes
clean airy and open
warm saloons round the corner
a choice of drinks await
and there's always a pal at the bar
a chin wag and a laugh
bon homie and we'll meet again mate

And I see orderly market places
and shops piled high
foods n wares from all over the globe
in morn noon or dusk
no bars or security grill a camera watches
a polite exchange and you go
live and lets live is our way of life

And I see parks and green fields
oaks willows cedars pines
carpets of shimmering greeneries
hedges and poppy fields
bluebells and daffodils rabbits n squirrels
horses in fields and cows grazing
idyllic countryside with cottages and barns

And I see I see this sceptered isle
and hear Jerusalem in hearty chorus
in prideful history
of the people by the people for the people
and I do not see a gun
I've never been near seen or held a real gun
because this is
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

insular
concept
birth in
limited
vista of
purported
influence
devoid of
objectivity
of wide
focus or
lived
experience
intellect or
understanding
from the all
cats are grey
kindergarten
where only
clouds and
ivories and
clowns in
colonial
pointy hats
knows best

The academic exercise feelings
rooted in they want to play lets see
when truths call in early doors
he saw the vanity of ignorance in bloom
not knowing me but knowing you
I could find no organic seeds
and painting roses by number bores me
if perchance an artisan calls
I have seen masterpieces and would know
copies in oil do not hang well
Mona Lisa invokes emotion anytime you look
that portrait did not live up
it pleases indifference on any given
time of day

and thou, in waning smiles
carries the leavened heart oozing
noiseless lamentations
like a fakir atoning for riches unknown
buried in desert storms
rampant and fifty moments from an oasis

for in the golden rays of brightness
sirocco gust untendered skins
smothering and smutting
in glades you beg to harvest true
yet in vivid echoes
kissing barren soils in puerile wilderness

the songs of yester sing for jesters
and the shuffle dance in legless amour
is less than a day's trade
which you sell to resell for profitless gain
as you flounder in waves
the talk of the talk of all and here and there
in mind knowing it could have been
the best of times
for it was for just a little while

Elementary! my dear flotsams
much ado about nothing
far from the road to Wigan Pier
wasted energy on the road less travelled
let them eat cakes
or go down the mines to dig up another name
after all you have nothing to loose but your chains
a nightingale will sing in Berkeley Square
and Hampstead will never be your homestead
so drag your feet and sport your flat caps
down the Old Kent road
where your Old Man's a Dustman
the home of the Gentry is not your castle to loot
your gripe of wrath is actually very boring
hop it and go meet your man on Clapham Omnibus
and if you want to read
the works of scholars
you have to sign your monikers many times
and by jove man
make sure you use the Service entrance
Revolution my iced Bollinger
like Che Guevara was at Margate supping Ales
at the Red Lion ******

When they look down
at their miniatures flaccid inactive
and filled embarrassment and pent rages
they scramble to desks
and with onyx fingers and quills
satiate their despair in fanciful incantations
and whimsical curses
warriors stand with Excalibur
gilded craftsmen with gifted lances
the harlequins script dirges
for down below
the quick-fire from stubs and twigs
will never light up a storm
or keep the home fires burning
in body and soul
so in anger
they squat in caves and pen ditties to the invader
spewing that which they cannot utter
in hand to hand or face to face
envious hate run deep
and they wish Long Staff was dead
and vibrant Moors never crossed the Caspian
with their ornamental daggers
and long swords

A born leader
in qualified certificated status
so you recognized that
and put me apart
acknowledging my superiority
though in my
leadership role
I gracefully decline
so please tell me
why should I give a ****
about you

Not your minority
how can I be in my nobility
so you recognized that
you try isolation
you want me to have siege mentality
to feel oppressed
to feel embattled
sad and forlorn
but please tell me
why your problem should be my
problem

In my sublimity
proven and recognized in graciousness
that which maddens you
in agitated recognition
you say do my head in
because my superior mind threatens you
and you feel small
with your small minds
your churlish crudeness
your demonstrable bigotry and pathetic shame
your inferiority

Its all your problem
your inadequacy makes you defensive
your narrow minds curses you
it rings in your heads
and you hallucinate
seeing slights and jibs
your superficiality has become your paranoia
your miseries and instability
crazily seeks company
in your vacuous heads
I become your behemoth
the shinning Light you all cannot abide
your fantasy lover

It was in the age of wonders unseen
a moment in time years gone
free radicals in plasma vision
high definitions in pixels hues

A quantum leap far from my diaspora
frequencies blare in statics
sights seen not deciphered
icons flicker in transmission

It was in the age of sight and unsounds
graphic audios  stricken tones
inputs and outputs in staccato
remote controlled hit replays

A million light years from my Antenna
and I see zigzag lines in frame
saw buzzing from mast to mast
and a broken conduit plugged in

It was plain from the get-go not my scene
alien signals defo incompatible
pathways divergence defaults
end of the drama of disengaged

And gladly fade to black and switched off
it is their age of delusions
and their world of illusion
their escapism n distractions
a million repeats of a non-experience is nada

In the gangster nation
the red fog of the foggy reds
gremlins of twisted Lenins trance
in cloak of lies and delusions at the long table
all for the one with gold taps and gilded Fawcett'
***** on the muzhik as the oligarchs bow in reverence
and offer millions in protection for life family and super yachts
the gangster Don in gangster paradise screws equality and justice
his mistresses in Gucci Dior and Givenchy sip Bollinger champagne
and the moujik  sing to Lenin and curse the Tsars a thousand curses
its all the fault of the crown
the clowns and morons say
the Gangster Don is the
man of the people
long live the Don
long live madness
long live Nuclear
LIES
long live Nuclear
POWER

If its self-made
wear the bane of responsibility
a damning yoke
the badge of your limitations
bedeviling scars
stirring pains and dour emotions
seeping weak souls
in lessons of doubts and confusions
blazing in angsts
but but
but but but
a blameless one
assuage in the machinations of evil
where malice
wickedness and blindness are dazzled
by the darkness
of the evil of men and mice and rats
in faultless innocence
the spirit and center holds in calm vibes
the providence of fate
none is promised fair winds in trade winds
blue skies knows only summers
so in rain and storms or starless gales nights
guilt free and unbowed
we whisper vespers in the laps of the gods

In cooked and done despair
incognitos egged on staples and cheap
swarm around as professional pokers and prodders
bereft of dignity introspection or shame
they buoy on the empty deeds
of the vacuous vacant

Blanch Friesian cows gather in droves
on concrete pens
to moo away and insult their intelligence
devoid of the milk of life
from their plastic udders and botox lips
they trod in their turds
and emit methane gases in noxious fumes
and mooing in unison
they declare they are in control of the abattoir
but we have beef with man
and we can insult our intelligence all we like
cause we are full of tripe

Of the graces of the pious grateful
in the known of ancient sages
the gift of living years wear tides
as lines and grey show truths
providence of timely life's growth
true seasons of maker's nature
from samplings to gnarled Oaks
a start vibing apt nutrients
the flow through trails and winnings
in sickness and in health
and in Creators glory inhale heartily
with each day a promise
as each month each year each decade
crowned us with grey
the beauty of gift of time and longevity
may our days be plenty
our withering sing praises to the Divine
for we are blessed
to weather the seasons and change with
Nature
for many never live to chase or accept
the gift of grey grey grey

You have to really know
before you can really tell

You have to really see
before you can really know

You have to really know
you really know you

before you really know
what you really know about you

Do you really know the you in you
or do you know the you in your construct

Dare you know

And all sing in unison

trumpet in disarray tunelessly

*** notes and discordant keys off chords

the exclusive choirs of melee of rented fodders

croaking infused scripted dialogues from disposables

and how they lark and hark in selves lacking

raising arias and tenors in witless refrains

orchestrated in gutless recitals

the sounds and fury

of incognizant

Much ado about nothing
scream Republicanism Revolution and Solidarity
when in truth your hate
lurks in the shortcomings that peeks on your groins
from red mists you rage
odious bullies needing a scapegoat to abate tiny Tims
its obvious the gifted
who measures up in mind body and soul is nemesis
to thimble small men
and you wonder why its all about socially castrating
an innocent gifted man





SHAFTED BY FRENCH British men’s ******* are only the 66th biggest in the world, study finds – & even French fared better

LACKING lads came up short in a study of international todger sizes — landing the UK in 66th place.

Their average of 5.17in put us well down the pecker order.

Even French fellas fared better — inching to 11th place with 6.2in.

Men in Ecuador claimed to have the biggest trousersnakes, at an average of 6.93in, ahead of Cameroon (6.56in) and  Bolivia (6.5in).

Germany came just above it — 39th on 5.72in and Argentina 30th on 5.86in.

US men polled 59th on 5.35in with Ireland in 70th on 5.03in and Aussies  43rd on 5.69in.

Pharmacist Navin Khosla said: “Most men have wondered at some time or other if their ***** is big enough. Size can have a massive impact on confidence and self- image.”

Researchers also found there were almost half a million online searches for ***** size by UK men in the last year.

Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.

There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours, or days.

All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame, and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.

It will not matter what you owned or what you were owed.

Your grudges, resentments, frustrations, and jealousies will finally disappear.

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans, and to-do lists will expire.

The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.

It won’t matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.

It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.

Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought but what you built; not what you got but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success but your significance.

What will matter is not what you learned but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage,

or sacrifice that enriched, empowered, or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence but your character.

What will matter is not how many people you knew but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.

What will matter is not your memories but the memories of those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what.

Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.

It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.

Choose to live a life that matters.

One prominent leftie even claimed that Musk wanted to turn the world into Apartheid South Africa.
It is unhinged, baseless and a sign that parts of the Left have gone mad.
Luckily Musk has not taken all this sitting down. The other day he took to Twitter to say: “The far Left hates everyone, themselves included!”
He is completely correct. As I say in my new book, The War On The West, the radical Left hate everything and everyone

And Musk is right. It can look like the woke Left are driven mad by self-esteem and self-love. It certainly looks like that as they scold all the rest of us, telling us all what to think, watch, read and say.

But they are also driven by terrible self-hatred. Why else would anyone be so perpetually angry at everything?

The radical Left pretend that everybody else is an “extremist”. But the extremists are themselves.

They do not try to make the world better. They just attack anyone who does. They do not have any positive ideas for society, only ugly views about what needs to be pulled down.

They do not know how to solve any problems. They only know how to attack and accuse. And at some deep level they sense this. So they shout even louder.

They attack and smear people, as they do whole countries, because otherwise they would have nothing to do with their time. And nothing to give their lives meaning.

Most of us find pleasure in the world and people around us, most of all our loved ones. And we find pride and joy in what we have around us that is good.

The radical Left pretend that everybody else is an 'extremist'. But the extremists are themselves. They do not try to make the world better. They just attack anyone who does. They do not have any positive ideas for society, only ugly views about what needs to be pulled down.

The far Left don’t have time for any of that. They are too busy preparing a revolution. And stage one of that revolution is to smear everyone who stands in their way

The far Left have only nightmares. Ones that they dream up. And ones they want to push on the rest of us.

So of course they hate people who dream big. For the same reason they hate successful people. Because they hate themselves.

when you come from the wrong side of the tracks
you are left with a big chip on your shoulders
an angst that steams all life long
a pervasive inferior feeling
a natural belligerence
need for attention
need to prove
yourself
when you come from the wrong side of the tracks
poverty causes paranoia so its inherent in you
you never feel like complete or enough
you always have issues complexes
envy jealousy reside in you
you hate & lack culture
crude no finesse
defensive
dumb

Just keep on opening new accounts
says the Banker
we want you to work more for your
meagre contributions

What illustrates the buffoonery
of the mentally and intellectually challenged
chess players
who are ignorant that a fundamental pivot
of chess is to
understand the aim of any move
and experts or
even novices will say without doubts
its really not like
looking for a needle in a haystack
in fact there's
nothing needling to the knowing eye
but the joke
is of course lost to our prized buffoons

If I am indecisive
in any way
I wouldn't be sitting here
cause there
are places where being
indecisive
does not mean do or don't

The genius is the construction of the blind alleys
signposting the ephemerality of passages
where the ghosts and the retrievers walk
not perchance but daily weekly monthly yearly
dipping toes in murky canals
skipping pebbles in ripples of lores

Here we see Anna's way
to the left is the Unforgiven Avenue
whilst a little further we will come to Black Lane
roll down the hill into Anxiety Corner
and if one walks long enough you will reach Open Door Road
where lies the fields of forget-me-nots in evergreen bloom

So we have our Dr Livingstones in exploration
mapping tributaries charting crumbling sources to K2
crampons  goggles and climbing ropes unnecessary
bare white eyes sees best in white noise and snow blindness
our intrepid warriors are chipping away from Wigan Pier
to the Black Forest where all you know is all you don't know

The genius is the construction of the blind alleys
signposting the ephemerality of passages
where the ghosts and the retrievers walk
not perchance but daily weekly monthly yearly
dipping toes in murky canals and mud flats
skipping pebbles in ripples of folklores

we want to increase the Conscripters
and give them more to do
its easy to be foolish and childish
so lets put new names to it
and whirl tin heads like candy floss
verses prose inconsequential
we'll turn you over like dull chapters

In voiceless rays from the ages of light
with solemnity enchanted

it is bequeathed at vespers and hallow
Blessed God does not punish
by not giving seekers their burning desires

in true punishment
God gives it all but not the souls or time
to behold claim and enjoy them

God in his mercy has given me all this time
to see in crystal rays all my gifts

whilst foes and naysayers have little or less time
and neither the eyes or souls
to embrace and enjoy the promises real within

for dusted in darkness an fears
they are left with all the time they dimly want
to squirm rage bristle and hate
HE they want to be but can never ever be

God has given them all the time
because they have neither the minds souls or eyes
to know or truly enjoy themselves

they have the gift of time to hate themselves
through me

So its not possible or viable
to put your orange squash in an old wine bottle
for freezing
to drink later when its very very cold
I suppose only visionaries
can do this

In the make-believe globule
the partisans talk in tongues inaudible
only attuned to like mindless
we may see but neither them or us know
as chalk differs from granite
in all honesty yellow means noting to me
another parables of *******
for I know there is nothing real or imagined
that is yellow about moi
in succinct appreciation moi knows moi
and surely no yellow belly
nor oriental yellow though moi just loves
the glorious yellows
of Van Gogh's five canvases of sunflowers in a vase

If your Masters
believe you are intelligent
they will tell you
its called a Poison campaign
not sowing doubts
doubt is unsure either this or
not wilfully
untruthfully and maliciously
murdering truths
and drenching all that is wholesome
real and positive
in venomous toxic slander and mud
they have made
you victims of your fears and inadequacy
and allowed you reins
to access all the erstwhile buried darkness
of  damaged diseased minds
and shown you you are incapable of humanity
just gross base cripples
enmeshed in negativity only able to trawl gutters
to feel validated and relief
that's what you do to worthless disrespected people
you don't expect much from

We brought our Controlling Shares
from Scammers Incorp
they tell us to write poetry for our Dividends
and that they have us all
under control as boarded members

Albinos in the market square
hawking white-washed dirges to each others

stirred in muddled pox puree
bedevilled as their blanched privilege suffers

cause in reality sound and sure
real deal shows they nowt but finks from gutters

oh they wail and bawl in seizure
in trance the weak cowardly banshees discovers

they are drunk nits without tenure
in body spirit or soul they are husks without colours

so come out from caves and pasture
the ruddy sheep are you baa baa baaing in your pretend culture
we can see your pain for sure