The Devil

the-devil

You are the devil;
the one who buys souls daily.
The media is your favourite demon,
feeding your every thirst for blood.
You are the mind-control.

To climb ladders of prestige,
people lose their souls to you.
Each one loses their sense of self,
renewing their sacrifice to you,
to be kept in the front pages.

You are a little less than inhumane.
Spirits and smiles die,
wells of passion run dry,
bodies become breathing shells,
when you make persons un-human.

You take the prize that has to be paid,
you make flesh your bread,
tears and sweat, your wine.
You are the media’s precious demon,
feeding its every thirst for blood.

You are the devil;
you are the mind-control.
Bodies become breathing shells,
people lose their souls to you,
to be kept in the front pages.

Between Worlds

SLEEP BY RENAT RAMAZANOV

‘Sleep’ by Renat Ramazanov

Do you know what it means,
do you know how it feels,
to be one of the living
at a time when you are dead?

To not be of that world,
the one you left behind,
or be fully in that one,
the one that is ahead.

You are able to move
but you can barely walk.
You are able to say words
but you can barely talk.
You are very sensitive
but you can barely sense.
You remember how to remember
but you can barely think.

You are able to hear
but you very barely know.
It’s hard for you to understand,
and so painfully so.
You are able to look
but you can barely see.
You’re hanging in midair;
you don’t have any wings.

To not be able to rewind
and start all over again,
or be able to move on,
and fly far far away.

Do you know what it means
when everything means nothing?
Do you know how it feels
when you cannot feel?

Fog

Earth Magic Oracle Card

Fog is simply a low cloud, a blanket of water crystals that has not gained the density of raindrops. The thicker it is, the more it shrouds in it’s damp, billowy arms. It can be so thick that it makes it nearly impossible to see directly in front of us. During those times, silence makes its own sound as we pause and allow ourselves to be enveloped in this shroud of impenetrable density. We may even feel as if we can do nothing but be still and await what is to be revealed.
Yet even within the thickest fog, we can be assured that it will eventually turn off as the sun’s rays infiltrate the veil. Once they do so, we can anticipate how the light and warmth will bring us welcome relief from the cold. As the sun continues to disperse the fog, our surroundings become illuminated, and we have the opportunity to continue onward.
You are enmeshed in confusion and uncertainty, and are unsure if it will ever clear up. This is not the best time to make decisions, particularly any major ones. Know that this foggy veil will eventually dissolve. Although there may be ways you are unconsciously contributing to this state, the greater truth is that this is simply a cycle you are moving through, and like all things, this too shall pass.
Allow yourself to feel confused – in fact, decide to be confused. No matter what attempts you make right now to make things happen or move in any specific direction out of impatience or frustration, you risk only creating more confusion and uncertainty. So, be still and patient. Wait for that first glimmer of awareness to life the veil so that you can see the choices before you more clearly and can then choose to align yourself with the will of Spirit.
– Stephen D Farmer

Tug of Peace

Peace
It’s a tug of peace

when you’re content
with no release;
you’ve lost total interest in
relearning what love is.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re stuck in 
a state of painful bliss,
and you dread the old game
of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘please.’

Tug of Peace

It’s a tug of peace
when you can’t and
would rather not see,
and instead of trying,
you find comfort in dis-ease.

It’s a tug of peace
when you’re a fire rat
but you hiss at cheese;
you don’t take classes
but you pay the fees.

It’s a tug of peace
when you barely grow
but rapidly increase.
You’re scared of life,
buying 0 at 24 apiece.


Sir Paul McCartney’s ‘Tug of Peace’ goes:
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
What with one thing and another
it’s a tug of war
No no no no

It’s a tug of war
No no, your troubles cease when you learn to play the pipes of peace
It’s a tug of war
Learn to play the pipes of peace
Pushing, pushing
Pulling, pulling
Pushing, pulling

Madiba and My Grandma

The Blue Room

‘The Blue Room’ by Mona Edulesco

I saw my late grandma in my dream today, Tuesday, March 24, 2020.

I was slightly uneasy at first, nervous perhaps. I found myself in my grandmother’s room—the one she used till the time of her death. Her bed was gone, and the room seemed more spacious than it used to be. There was a smaller bed in it, what seemed like a twin-sized bed with a white bedspread on it—I don’t think it was fully white. It seemed like I was trying to sleep on the bed, or sit on it properly, when Madiba (Nelson Mandela) came in. 

I ran to hug him, and I was very happy to see him. I clearly remember how it felt—very warm and comforting. My paternal grandma came in almost immediately after. She looked a bit different, maybe taller than she would have been at the time of her death since I did not see her months before. Her hair was covered, and I don’t clearly remember hugging her, but I was so excited to see her, to see them both. 

I woke up right after and faced the wall to my left, asking Archangel Michael to protect my body because I was in a vulnerable state. I may have been slightly scared as I did. Then I went right back to sleep.

Perhaps, Madiba and my grandmother are companions or members of the same soul group in spirit. My grandmother was Nigerian, and Madiba was South African. They never met in their recent incarnations (as Madiba and Bolanle) and I never met Madiba, so it’s pretty exciting.

I suppose ancestors are checking on and comforting those with active earthly incarnations because of the apparent fears/concerns that abound at this time. 

The Killer Queen

Queen

Our lives have drastically changed, 
now that La Corona has been enthroned.
Fearsome, terrible, and sleek,
waving as she casts her deadly spell,
all wail her royal highness, the queen of hell.

Some claim she pities children,
only harming a handful so far,
and that she is the opposite of colour-blind,
first attacking bodies with a lighter hue,
with plans to make those with darker ones blue.

La Manifique engages in a coquettish March,
striding as she takes many breaths away.

Whenever she pays her subjects royal visits,
she lights feverish fires inside them,
and in her presence, all lung-curses stem.

She makes prison cells of bodies and homes,
exciting and depressing, nothing in-between,
and in our daily bid to succeed her throne,
we pray that God takes the queen
and approves our desperate win.

Are You There?

Lonely

‘Lonely’ by Sangeetha Bansal

Tell me, whisper it,
I’m aching to know,
is it a yes
or a definite no?
Find me in my dreams
and make it known,
’cause I think of you far more
than I have carefully shown.

Do you still think of me
now that there’s no tomorrow,
when ‘we’ means absolutely nothing
and memories bring painful sorrow?

Do you still love me
now that you cannot stand me,
’cause we don’t talk to each other anymore,
about as distant as we can be?

Do you still hold me,
now that I’m out of your reach,
and our vow to love each other 
has come to a ghastly breach?

Do I still matter
now that you have a wife,
and old things have passed away,
and you love your new life?

If you tell me in my dreams,
I’ll know if it’s true,
and if you say it’s a no,
I won’t feel so blue.
I miss you and love you,
and although I’ve grown,
if you say it’s a yes,
I won’t feel so alone.

For My Lady

Free Julian ‘Innocent’ Assange

Julian Assange

The USA must drop the charges against Julian Assange now! Stop hurting him, God damn! Julian has done nothing wrong by utilitarian, common-sense standards, which comes before any other, especially the haphazard decisions of a select few- otherwise known as ‘the powers that were.’

Common sense, justice, and truth should be regarded as supreme, regardless of the fear of anything- the apparent worst being death, greed, and myopia.

Websites: https://wikileaks.org/
https://defend.wikileaks.org/

Twitter:
Wikileaks: https://twitter.com/wikileaks

GoFundMe:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-my-son-julian?utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet

When You Do Clownery?

The words of Saint Monique could never be untrue- “When you do clownery, the clown comes back to bite.”

I have made these words my motto and guide for life. When you do Foolish Things, you very quickly bear their first name.

The imagery is just as amusing and it is terrifying. Imagine wearing a clown’s costume for a few hours, with the freedom to do whatever you want- whatever. Then you take it off, and sooner than later, the lifeless costume becomes full of life, gets up, hops towards you, and bites you in the ass (or worse still, some other sensitive area). Oooh! It makes me shiver.

I suppose the lesson for the hour is to think thrice before doing anything. It is restricting, but I would take temporary restriction over long-lasting embarrassment/damage. The latter is a bit more unhealthy for the ego than the former. ‘Wisdom is profitable to direct.’

Black Cat Cross My Path

Black Cat.jpg

In all honesty, I am just as terrified of domesticated animals as I love them. I particularly find cats fascinating. So, when I turned around and saw a cat right behind me (I would have reacted similarly even if it were a lizard), my exact reaction was ‘cute,’ but more importantly, ‘no, ma’am.’

I was on a break from work, and I was to be off for two days or so. I had gotten out of the house to pick something from my mum’s car, and when I turned around, there was a black cat staring at me a few inches away from the front door. To downplay things a bit, I did not not run. 

Few hours later, what could have been a major fire incident in my home had only been slightly avoided, not without significant effects, and I was visibly shaken. Just thinking about what happened in my home that day still sends chills down my spine.

Now, I mustn’t forget to mention that none of my neighbours own cats, and I haven’t seen any cats in the neighbourhood since then (except yesterday when a ginger cat crossed my path when I was driving- ridiculous, I know), so I have added that day to the list of days that are particularly significant to me.

I was listening to Nina Simone’s ‘Mississippi Goddamn’ again, and when I heard ‘black cat cross my path, I think everyday is gonna be my last,’ I decided to do some research. In summary, the beliefs that people have regarding cats in general, especially black cats, differ.

An explanation that particularly sat with me was that black cats, contrary to common belief, are not bringers of bad luck. They are often used by spirit to warn a person about some kind of danger ahead. 

“All animal spirit guides can appear to warn us of danger, but that does not make the animal themselves ‘bad omens’. It’s the whole ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ thing, ya’ know?” – WIMSA [What is My Spirit Animal]?

So, yeah, I am not crazy. Black kitty really did warn me to be careful so I won’t start a fire. It’s interesting, isn’t it?

I Saw a Man

touchhd a man

‘Sandra’ by Shairi Turner

You are but a boy;
you made me a girlish woman.
Woman had the hots for boy?
I was naive- I’m only human.

You’ve run off to play your games;
yet, I know I will be just fine.
I feel foolish for feeling something;
I could have sworn you were all mine.

Oh boy, yes, you wore the perfect mask.
Now I need deep cleansing and a ‘no-costume’ ban.
‘Cause on the day that I first saw your face,
I was so damn sure- what I saw was a man.

{in numb, slightly girlish voice}
I saw a man
I saw a man
I saw a man
I saw a man
I saw a man
I saw a man
I saw a man
If I knew you were a boy,
I’d have stuck to my first plan.

{with crying and regret}
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
If I knew you were a boy,
I’d have said goodbye and ran.

{with screaming and anger}
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!
I saw a man!

{fades}

This is not a poem per se; it’s a song. I just need some help with recording it. I already know what it sounds like; I can almost hear it.
trans
Around 7.30 pm this evening, I found myself scribbling so fast, and the above is what I got after a few changes. I wrote so quickly, hence, the almost-illegible writing. If I ever get to record and/or perform this piece, I want the chorus to carry the emotions. I want it to be as powerful as the chorus in Patto’s 1970s piece, ‘The Man’
Listen to it. The chorus begins at around 4 minutes into the video: