Peace comes with surrender or destruction
Peace comes with restraint by greater powers
Powers ordained from on high for peace

But cowardly harlots wooing kings for profits
That such powers now impotent and abused
The heavenly decree profaned and corrupted

Peace is at an end, peace no more on earth
So too goodwill and favour abrogated
And judgements come, the book of life closed

Trees silent and still its sufferings strange
But happening below unseen who knows
From electrons to cells to worms and moles
Its cries heard in the depths of earth
Its agonies pain the highest heavens
All life reached and touched and soothed
Its griefs mutually shared and resounded
And heavens weepingly reassure in every tear
That evil judged and nothing's futile
Greater yet the glory surpassing the beauty
In every branch, leaf, flower and fruit

I'm a ghost, an empty shell, a stranger amongst flesh
I walk the certain way, contrary, unseen and unheard
Flesh seems unaware of me and my way and walk away
My voice wordlessly soundless and my touch the wind
Spirit and flesh have no fellowship and union, futility

I see the sighted unseeing, stumbling, falling, smiling
Without truth confident the next step is never void
Every fall is knowledge every bone broken is growth
Till the last fall then to sleep eternal, life's done
Without fear, without regrets, for what else is life?

It's unbearable to hear the blind speak of light
Or the dead teaching the dead how to live
And liars affirming liars with yet more lies
But alas inescapable is this babelic cacophony
I run, far into the wilderness, but woe upon me clings
Thus I close my eyes, shut my ears, seal my tongue
Wrap myself in the dark depths of desolation
And like the dead, slip into the silence of the void

Light cannot and does not know who lit it or snuffed it out
Neither does it know if its light was used for good or evil
For shameless evil is more believed when seen by the blind
Whereas good hide in dark searched for by the sighted
No glory to be lit or snuffed, foolish to boast or despair
But in peace assured: grace suffices whether you burn or not
And there's no dark in good, and light's to judge the blind

Quietly, ordinarily, and without heralds
It arrives, and you know—the truly good;
And you run after it, to fully grasp and hear
Not in full understanding yet, but it feeds,
Every moment: ever richer, ever illuminating,
Ever the more profound; mutually enlarging
All that's heard and known darkly from before
And Life! ever the brighter, the exalted, and the unspeakable!

Lies ****.

Every lie said, cuts like a sword
Every lie believed, I die a little
I'm tormented for surely somewhere
A child tearfully compelled to lose his soul

My tongue's not my own neither the deepest longings
And neither these for pursuit nor grasping but to know
Of promises unknowable in the flesh but will be
For which given only glimpses of their shadows
And to know that before Time and for all times
Not futility as seeming for the Teacher is present
And so too the end's the beginning and vice versa
But to hear the Voice for in the dark the ears see

Son of Dragon, born of Woman
Free to roam, in kings' ears whispering
Mighty kingdoms thus rose, and fell
But Son of Man, exiled and chained

In wisdom Dragon saw his end
His arm in might deceived to save
Corrupted the seed to remain
One King over all men on earth

Thus all flesh drowned yet his seed lives
For seed to father not of flesh
And Dragon in Abyss' depths bound
Awaits the End for Man's judgement

Son of Dragon, wise as father
Knowing Man as he knows himself
His kingdom from his kingdom rose
From ashes yet again to ashes

His eighth and last kingdom now reigns
Over all earth but least glorious
A constant decline from the first
This last an unseen mired wreck

Son of Dragon wise but not wise
As creature imperfect and flawed
All men bow but his kingdom falls
Against He who binds his father

Son of Man, weak but he's to rule
From dungeon's depths raised above kings
For his Father's sceptre he holds
And upon the dragon he rides

When kingdom by Man ruled as right
Gold's free and peace its currency
Without wars nor bribes kings subdued
A glimpse of that ordained to be

Son of Dragon schemes as End nears
Tempts Man he's now King of all earth
And stars bow and all heavens too
And Sons as brothers reign in Peace

The Dragon's Year, this year has come
Son of Man hears Son of Dragon
Peace tempts, and brothers sit to rule
And Mother's name is Babylon

David repented and seventy thousand fell
Jerusalem's execution stayed for God relented
And where the Angel stood the Temple arose
Anti-David hardened and strengthened
The war entrenched and more enemies joined
Captives remained and fires uncontrollably raged
Surely this time it'll be more than three years
And enemies indestructible more wicked shall be
And Jerusalem's destruction, once more, unstayed

I don't count, for I don't know what counts
A look, a smile, silence, to turn and walk away
What counts is for them for which it matters
Known only at the end when the whole revealed
And I, a new self, rebuilt from all that counted
Of others: their words, presence, absence, or kiss
And we become Others, as Others become Us
The perfection of unity, now, a shadow glimpsed

When evening comes and evil rouse
When howls and shrieks of terror without
The Day is here and within we're ready
Assured dark shall pass and into light
We'll walk when the doors are opened
But the fight's the despair and fear
From sights and sounds of evil's triumph
It's cruel rampages and idolatrous boasts
But that Day comes in the dark of dusk
The Sun's hid that dark destroys dark
And a pleasant land refreshed revealed
And our eyes behold only beauty and light

the world rejects sorrows
for happiness can be sold

whereas sorrows lead to life
happiness naturally believed

even within mortals' reach
hurrying to seize is thus life

with wits, strength, and help—
willing or not—for time is short

if death undefiable, it'll be mocked
for you shall go smiling to the grave

Knowing neither good nor evil but just what is
The science of being is to flow to reach goals
For which you're free to choose and dream
Armed with wits and strength to learn and strive
Never failing, always believing, of indefeasible spirit
Bowing to no one but yourself as justified
For you're always higher today than yesterday

Glimpses, whiffs, and shadows
But suffice to know, fully assured
Even to wager all, life and more
And to forego all, even to fast
For Truth does not mock
And the fullness' unimaginable
But an unseen certain fulfillment;
Awakened is before the dawn
A lightening and not the light
In anticipation and excitement
In joyous fear, with trembling steps
Approach the glowing chasm
In angelic choruses and many suns
Lifted off the ground on many wings
Higher and vaster the sight
Intoxicating the fragrant scent
Fearsomeness in shadows unveiled;
And the chasm's edge is further yet
For even the Perfect waits for All
His wounds unhealed a promise
Of Oneness only when All is One.

Circling Earth circling Sun
Circling Moon circling Earth
Days cycling within Months
Months cycling within Years
Wheel within wheel within wheel
Sphere within sphere within sphere

And a day is a day in every sphere
Their shadows of which on Earth
As Days, Months, and, Years
Life's inescapable rhythm ingrained
In Man, Beasts, Bugs, and Herbs
But only in Man do we count

In joy and sorrow we feel it passed
Fearful and hopeful all in ignorance
For Time's beyond Man's wisdom
Though they speak, a threefold echo
Each revealing, each foreshadowing
For on Earth as it is in Heaven

Yet Wonderful as it is, it shall pass
We know, for all Earth's given a Sign
A count, an unnatural cycle of Sevens
Of Seven Days, Months, and Years
The Seventh of Each, is a Rest
An Eternal Rest, An Everlasting Peace

Pondering What is Time, the Master of Time
Pointed to the Sabbath, and Ezekiel's Wheels

A wonder a day's old is old
For today's a greater wonder yet
Without asking without knowing
Given if gifted to accept

A vine grafted to ancient roots
Drinks deep beneath the rocky earth
A child tasting strange unknown foods
Knowing not father nor mother

Ever filled with songs ever new
Awakes the dawn with song unsung
From sights seen winged beyond the stars
And joy's complete when mysteries known

Accepting that made not with hands
Needs knowing the Mind not of flesh

Spy pigeon, oh spy pigeon,
perched high across my window
Bio engineered and slave,
Remote robot to unseen
master's master's whims
Chip in brain, camera in eye,
satcoms under its feathers
But Nature still reigns,
for here comes lady pigeon,
and off they flew and never return

We count, calculate, compare
If greater, thanks aloud in joy
If lesser, work, fight, beg

A life measured in numbers
Negative, minute, millions
But life begins at infinity

Not a number not a count
Of mind more real than numbers
Ungraspable, priceless, gifted

The work and joy is to know
The fight is to diminish to empty
For the less I am the more I am

Picking one from many fools who ran for a small price
Tempted with morsels, contemptible as the beasts
Gullibly proud of unshakeable beliefs pleasing the ears
Snared they shall to slave that my free will shall be

When you know it's not you
Then you’ve known another

But is it friend or foe
For you or against you

Your saviour or jailer
Your master or helper

It may oppose but it's not enemy
It rather flatters for pride leads to fall

Perhaps it's neither for you nor your foes
But for itself as it befits its own

If asked it will say it is what it is
And what another may say I don't know

If I speak truth without knowing until later when affirmed, then I know it was another.

If I speak truth, yet woven in it are greater and deeper truths, constructed without intent nor awareness, then I know it was another.

If my simplicity conceals a manifold complexity with greater simplicity, ie beauty, then I know it was another.

If what I wrote or said long ago is ever new, surprising and constantly inspiring with each re-reading or re-hearing, as if they are living and ever growing, then I know it was another.

If every thought is not only consistent with all that's revealed but reveals yet more, especially that most subtle but utterly profound, that I cannot help but believe that I've transcended into a realm beyond all earth, then I know it was another.

If it is what it is, is so familiar, like one knew from long ago, and never apart, inseparable as soul and spirit, heart and mind, that it's mere shadow is sufficient for proof, then I know it was another.

For millennia awaited when appeared crucified
For millennia warned when appeared worshipped
The voice of history, prophetic truths, if perceived
Past and Future, symmetrical, and mutually imaged
A thing and an anti-thing, similar but opposed
Not repeatable science nor philosophical dialecticism
But a reversal of time, a humanly difficult reality
As we look only ahead as we walk the same way
Forward and backward, each way different to the eyes

We count time but don't know what we count
We feel time's flow in the sun, moon, and stars
And see it passed in our flesh and offspring
But without knowledge nor awareness if it is
Forward, backwards, circular, or not at all
Or if a second prior or after, is, shorter, or longer
But only the everlasting, now, past, future, illusionary
And time, the same as times, and so too half a time

Unless you see your chains you're not free
Unless you see your flesh you're not spirit
And unless spirit and soul mutually see
You cannot know there's Another in your midst

Unless you are silent and still
You cannot feel the gentle wind
Nor hear its whispering song
Nor discern it's voice in the harmony, or dissonance

a thousand options or two
are all but irrelevant
I need no choices but One:
of my arbitrary will
created perfectly, in
wisdom and potent power
that if not shall be and is
thus truth for it is thereof;
gladly I enslaved myself
to my very own then be
enticed and just as enslaved
to choices purportedly
for my good—or make my foes
cry—if believed piously
but unseen its that same One
of strange self serving powers
and their arbitrary wills
and truths in a post truth world;
alas we totally lack
knowledge, fed and believed lies
of freedom, choosing by will
to be proud and gladly slaved.

That knowing freedom is beyond the door
Suffices not that you get up and walk
For there must be light and you've eyes to see
And you're not chained nor door's a devious trap
To tempt an escape to increase the sin
And fear whispering of uncertainties
Of vast unknowns and stranger unseen yet
And perhaps the door leads to just more doors
Better well-fed and cared-for but a slave
Then free, hungry and lost, and soon all dead
For freedom is for the living and free

Bad news come for evil yet rules
And more evil yet cloaked until
In triumph in all the world
In the news from its knees rises

The Devil, ceases its pretence
To pray; And all barely sheep-cloaked
evil bared, and with whip commands
As I knelt now bow before me

All eyes in heavens and all earth
Will see that you in your free will
In your calculated choices
Choose Evil and reject the King

And they the exiles in their homes
The aliens from Eden on Earth
Aggrieved beyond bearable grief
Shall see judgements and wondrous grace

I close my eyes, and sleep, my rest earned
The day's done, let tomorrow itself worry
If my eyes yet open, lest filled with songs
I lay still, and let the day itself worry
Thus I rise soul renewed spirit uplifted
Before dawn, at noon, the next day, or never

On the highest peaks or the lowest darkest depths
In health and strength or broken, weak and nearly dead
In the midst of love and joy or rejected, exiled and unknown
In fullness of knowledge and assurance of the good will
Or bewildered and baffled, in perplexity stumbling and lost
With songs constantly singing, resplendent in angelic aura
Or utterly silent, crying beyond tears, covered in ashes of mourning
At the table, listened to and honoured by kings and princes
Or a starving slave forgotten and chained in the dank dungeon
But unseen in the flesh, unknowable unless heard,
is the Word, "I am with you," and that suffices for Life.

Blessings and Curses, two Edges of the same Sword
A Swordsman is one Ordained, knowing When and How
To Unsheathe, to Cut, to Pierce, to ****, only for Good
But if used only for his Good or sheathed rather than ****
He then is a Renegade, condemned by the same Sword

A Nation
A collection of accidentals
Born in terror and blood
Whitewashed in anthems and history
A unity now compelled
Even to shed blood
Against your brothers
Trapped in the same monstrosity
Yet many waved its flag
Proudly and foolishly
And the Banner of Love
Left trampled in blood and death.

Dusk is a promise of Dawn
As long as Life is LORD
And night can be long
As it was once years ago
A day in many thousands
An utterly unworldly terror
Or briefly: Old to New Moon
Or Three Days and Nights
Evil prophesies and rejoices
At Dusk, Night without End
Indeed it shall be, a Shadow
Of Day, A Day without End

The heart and mind speak with one tongue
But for those of the rebellion as in days past

For these wars raged within hypocrisy without
Oblivious to themselves their nakedness

Entrenched and encouraged and flattered
Mutually and smilingly profiting and killing

Never knowing heart and mind always fighting
Their unknown demons within always losing

Following their hearts blaming their minds
Self mutilating, self abused, yet self loving

Proud of their filth encrusted grotesqueness
Mistaking for beauty that unseen in the dark

Self love is not love but anti-love
Parts are but to be mutually fitted
And imperfections only seeming
Ceasing to be in the perfected whole
But is not if any part seeks its own

as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable

from old unchanging darkly grasped
in story unfolding and the yet untold
but ear strays and heart schemes
the old unheard and story unchanging

It'll speak to you when you wake
Thus I wallow long in bed
Till I hear and duly feed
Then I'll rise and eat the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Even at times before bed
Then you're waiting as dawn peeks
To run with no time for cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
But ignore it before bed
In nightmares it'll haunt your sleep
Till you walk and forgo cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
Why study when time for bed
Books are weary but sleep's sweet
Thus you'll eat and keep the cake

It'll speak to you when you wake
If not you'll despise your bed
To roam and ceaselessly seek
For real food and not the cake

May Putin be crushed and his nuclear threat exposed an empty bluff
May Russians see themselves the true Nazis
And in true need of salvation than Ukrainians ever were
May the shattered save the mighty and the mighty serve the victor

Only the strong
     can be pierced by the sharp sword of truth
Only the strong
     walk unarmed unafraid into the fire
Only the strong
     carry the weak and shield the hapless
For strong is its own master
     never servant to mere powers

in a land where four languages are official
a church was named only in three; for the fourth
is the language of a weak and fragile faith
whose edicts are above the law of the land,
and whereof knowing a church's name is temptation
and the tempter the sinner and the tempted sinless;
a rock is evil for stumbling the weak,
and if truth offends the truthsayer dies,
and the thief blameless for the rich flaunts his gold;
thus protected by an unsheathed ****** sword
a faith strengthened with every tempter's death

Incorrigible hoarder of the useless and perishables
Fridge full of forgotten decay and unfinishing leftovers
A comforting illusion of plenty and unending riches
To which she nibble away, always leaving behind ten percent

If you need dark to see light
   then you had never seen the light
If you need the grotesque to see beauty
   then in all likelihood you're the grotesque one
If you need death's sting to feel alive
   then you're already dead for life's contemptuous of death
If absence makes heart fonder
   then death's eternal separation
   compels love unto life resurrected

Making a living Wage from the living Word
Inevitably shades, obscures, taints and corrupts
Betrays the apparently living Faith
And exalting the Man than the Word

Balaam refused silver and gold in public
But embraced death's wages in secret
Certainly the labourer deserves his dues
But from his Master and not from fellow labourers

If the lives you saved leave you hungry
But for your whip, perhaps they're yet slaves