Thursday, July 21, 2011

Taoism Glory Of Tomorrow Poem By Andrew Hennessey

Taoism Glory Of Tomorrow Poem By Andrew Hennessey Image
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a poem

Andrew Hennessey

I fell down a chasm to the bottom of a frequency pit

where the fallen apples rot

I am Human

Where the extinct Reptilians

undead do not die, and in the twilight the insect hives

do fence the sky with traps and snares and matrix.

Fallen blind I hear but cannot see

the tango of death

rabid alien issues

sucking the life and breath

the ebb and flow of negation

and a variation and theme uniquely mine

as the parade of artificial alien haves effortlessly

dance amongst the wooden have nots

at speeds beyond their straightjackets of perception.

There is an inner calling in the heart,

the love of Christ

and my Kingdom home.

totally life in the eternal heart

an apple never sundered from the tree of life

alive and separate from the malignant carnival

of dehumanising death

amongst the contrived dust and social charades

of the earthly draconian pit.

you have a bad day in the hatred

as it often hacks and negates the good that is you

yet if you engage the pendulum of vindication and retribution

you become a slave of the wheel of time.

if you do not turn the other cheek

if you engage

first your mind, then your spirit,

then your soul will be swept away

by the torrent of anti-human rage -

as amoral as the acid in an acid bath

it is the negation of life, of the spirit of human love

of the pattern of Christ in you.

yet if you turn the other cheek and disengage you will be

accused of being meek

but as the alien hardware that invisibly saturates

our artificially maintained demeaning primitivism

blasts out amnesia

you will probably not remember being meek

or even why you came here.

In Elysian there grows a flower

a burning love of social life

an eternity of strength and vigilance

a keeper of true civilisation

and some time we must take that walk

into the bricks and mortar desert

to renew our faith

and our pledges to our Father and His family.

Though in the shadows lurk the serpents

as they sing their songs of disease

to deaden and leaden our struggle for life

though in this geography of fabric

lurks the demon and its hungry warped

mathematical arrangements and dearly bought

gifts of enlightened death.

Though people know the ignoble lie that this death is life

and that somehow we are prisoners doing artificial time

the only life and future we can be certain of is the one above us

not the rumours of somewhere to go down a rabbit hole

in the dark galactic game of snakes and ladders,

cons and screws

and we hear the chant of death

that there is nothing new under any sun, that creative life

has ceased to flow in the veins of civilisation

a lie promoted to stupefy and confuse

anaesthetic for the fatted calf

and we hear the chant of death

that there is no soul from soul-depleted

and disconnected people

with plans to feast on yours

and we hear the chant of death that there is no

future, no life, no tomorrow, a nothing

that twists our words into more nothing.

but there is yet a stronger song, a greater hope

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and the Holy Spirit,

as it was in the beginning, is now, and forever shall be,

world without end, amen.


Also try this free pdf e-books:

Summer Woodsong - False Memory Syndrome And The Inquisition
Lynn Thorndike - A History Of Magic And Experimental Science
Michael Jordan - Dictionary Of Gods And Goddesses