Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Where Ice Winds Blow

Painting By: My Great Aunt "Phoebe Harney" (Circa 1916)

Where Ice Winds Blow

A mighty forest once graced the dell,
So green and lush, the lungs would swell.
The birds so numerous and full of vigour,
The skies back then so blue and bigger.

Our home was built long ago,
Where harmonies been and spirits grow.
Crystal waters blessed our land,
Along the mighty River Grand.

In life we toiled in rock and earth,
Our blood n’ sweat, death and birth.
Fate our own, belonged to none,
And everyday came the sun.

Alas the darkness brought its weight,
Outside the barn, the post of fate,
Trails in snow, deep red and black,
Each animal sacrificed n’ hung out back.

A child sobs his curse for food,
Eyes so flush his grief imbued.
Outside, the evening’s cold and damp,
Oil wick Flickers inside the lamp.

Melancholy howls, sing through the night,
T Wolves in prayer, under moons light.
Sleep is restless, nightmares surge,
Drawn in fear where guilt’s converge.

Inside our haven, fire crackles with heat,
This prairie bungalow kept warm and neat.
Canning done, jars waxed and sealed,
now packed away, our autumn yield.

Winters barren lifeless thatch,
Bundled carefully behind the latch.
Fields now barren and covered in snow,
Whistling gusts, where ice winds blow.

About this Poem: A photo struck me in a Poetry contest I entered recently, called “Outback Shed”. The Photo prompt in the contest was of an old homestead in the Outback that conjured up a memory of a painting my great-aunt made and gave my grandfather in 1916 (100 years ago.) The painting, depicted above, is of a farm at night, where outside, clearly visible is a trail of blood leading into the barn…the painting left an impression on me for a long time, that I’ve just now expressed in this Poem. Life and times were very different 100 years ago but this painting will always remain chilling with a reminder to me that all life is precious…

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Warning Hubris Halls

Warning Hubris Halls

To those in power in hubris halls,
around the corner destiny calls.

Your laws of division are about to fail,
And soon you’ll see the Justice scale.

I don’t imagine you’ll do so well,
the place you created, is a living hell.

Considering all the damage done,
Don’t be surprised or look so stunned.

Truth has born the people awake,
Pray for mercy, in their quake.

About this expression: A warning to dictators, Oligarch’s, and the hidden majority shareholders in Mega corporations and Private Banks…beware of the informed masses, for the crimes you have committed will be judged in the court of morality...your end is near...

Wednesday, July 13, 2016

Economic Fall

Economic Fall

The clash of steel and iron plays on foggy screens, as raging economic fires consume every town and village across the land with echoed screams. Empty homes ablaze on smouldering markets of greed, now just a pile of embers, ash and shattered illusions.

Desperate fingers point at created enemies, scribbled on leaflets and dropped on the starving by patrician thieves. Desolation notes, delivered by Trireme commanders to man the oars and destroy the rebellions abroad.

Ship of fools, rowing in madness towards the jutting rocks of truth on the raging seas of insanity; Woe to them who are chained to the oars of empirical delusions…

The stores are empty onboard tall illusive dreams, where shell-shocked rowers fall by the weight of the chains they have come to depend on. Leaky ships eastward steering, sink to the bottom of the sea, while their cannons are fired in all directions…

The mirage of recovery fades in the pangs of unfulfilled promises and broken dreams. A generation crushed by debt, left smouldering in the ashes, has lost its hubris…the empire is dead.
About this Expression:

Mankind’s destiny has arrived at a major fork in the road…one path leads to extinction, the other to freedom and salvation. However, the choice is blurred by the noise of propaganda and parasitic elements that drive a sociopathic leadership towards chaos and destruction…the decision has already been made for us, as we are blindly led down a road by the directors of greedy addiction, desperate for its next fix…they have chosen war instead of peace…

Monday, July 11, 2016

Mob Boss Hillary

Mob Boss Hillary

There’s nothing she can’t handle,
that’s why there’s Scandal after scandal.
A butcher by trade, in a trail of blood,
her stories are buried and covered with mud.

Extortion, theft and murder her bag.
Little Rock’s Hillary, the mafia hag.
Now the sociopath has a nation to loot,
With slush funds hidden to cover dispute.

From Travelgate, war crimes, those still to commit,
this Presidential psychopath is truly unfit.

Whitewater schemes and real estate rafting,
crimes she patched by special grafting.
All sails down that memory hole,
along with the money that she stole.

Cattlegate, filegate, Chinagate too,
How many fiasco’s did Hillary do?
Extortion murder, blackmail and theft,
How many people has she bereft?

Here comes the Clinton’s Defence Fund,
her accumulated bribes have left me stunned.
But power is corrupt in all the bribed places,
now paying dividends in her electoral races.

Millions hidden with IRS abuses,
Offshore accounts, billions of excuses.
Pardongate me, are those your FALN thugs,
Why the smiles? Why the shrugs?

Election rigging, senate rules violation,
the law of the land, now on vacation.
FBI clearance continues the fraud;
Who the hell is it, that’s backing this broad?

Warmongering slut of the US M.I.C.,
a Pentagon whore and oil slick.
This plea for sanity, do not ignore,
because a Vote for Hillary, is a vote for war.

I was interviewed by Press TV today and shared my thoughts on the US Presidential election. Here’s the Link.

US presidential election system corrupt, farcical

Monday, May 16, 2016



Perceptions in the world have changed,
imprisoned minds unblocked,
eyes are quite wide open,
no longer closed or shocked.

September brought the earthquake,
October brought the war,
November brought insanity,
by December we were poor.

The global coup came creeping,
every nation on the block,
the twists n’ plots so furious,
economies held, grid locked.

The world’s been set on fire,
arsonists are in charge,
raging fires burn our homes,
insanity by and large.

Demons run the country,
more are in the wings,
trained to spawn the chaos,
and the turmoil that it brings.

Heaven help our children,
their futures not so clear,
and so the world keeps drifting,
in panic and in fear.

About this expression:

I’m appalled and outraged by all the violence, greed and destruction that the US establishment has imposed upon the people of the World…I simply cannot accept it, nor can I live with the reality of it, therefore I write to express my disgust of it...

Friday, May 13, 2016

Death of Empires

Death of Empires

Old world fades, empire dies,
forgotten books filled with lies,
barren promise, empty platitudes,
hubris lurks in hollow attitudes.

Malevolent empire, on your knees,
burnt out quick in the breeze,
embrace the world of ash and smoke,
now rest eternal your evil yoke.

Pass away, pass away, we hear no more,
of evil deeds on foreign shore,
nor thieving twists or crimes of hate,
we embrace your fall, embrace your fate.

The Arch of history, has your name,
inscribed, the truth, your endless shame,
now fade away with sands of time,
malignant empire, malicious crime.

About this Poem: One Might call this a prayer for salvation...

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Reality Mask

Reality Mask

Awareness arrives by first breath heard…
eyes open, imbued with confined realities,
choices offered from a box of masks,
one that I must choose.

Consciousness diminished, I’m awake,
reality plane unfolds in a world shared with others,
where patterned movements repeat in rhythm,
by occupied masks, and choices made.

Beings surround me,
clothed in white flannel,
cautiously walking invisible tight ropes,
confiding in their manuals.

Do not disturb signs around their necks,
they walk silent in all directions,
lost in sequential patterns,
as operational programs.

A mask,
I do not choose,
but instead sit down
watching wasted time,
by a thousand mimes on aimless paths,
all working to feed the machine god,
that gives them light to do so…

They have chosen,
as have I,
who gets up,

and looks for the door.

About this Poem: We are born into a World that expects us to choose from a limited set of choices that serves only the machine of Industry and its master.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Erdogan: The Judas Sultan

Erdogan: The Judas Sultan

He claimed to be on Palestine’s side,
promised an escort with Turkish pride.
Yet freedom flotilla set sail alone,
Mavi Marmara left on its own.

Strange the Israeli’s had the passengers list,
hitmen with photos strapped to their wrist.
Betrayal was flush by Erdogan’s sort,
before Flotilla set sail from port.

Ten people murdered, nine on the spot,
by Israeli criminals who took over the yacht.
Global waters were stained with blood,
the day our freedoms turned to mud.

Erdogan hollers, “I’ll take them to Court”,
then buys their weapons in support.
Several years on, the court case ends,
charges dropped, and back as friends.

Fake messiah and Ottoman king,
Erdogan reaches for the Sultans ring.
as Palestine burns by Erdogan’s nod,
his smile reveals the demon god.

One by one Arab nations go down,
each one a jewel in Erdogan’s crown.
The Judas Sultan betrayed them all,
destroyed their peace as they did fall.

The war on Syria proved Erdogan mad,
backstabbing his neighbour, Bashar al Assad.
With NATO approval, and American shield,
Erdogan plundered Syria’s yield.

His family swims in Syrian spoils,
a neighbour to loot and strip of oil.
Tanker convoys, stretch miles long,
bleeding Syria is Erdogan’s throng.

Turkey furrows as Satan’s bane,
terror camps built in his name.
Arming and training the terrorist thugs,
That rape and pillage and run the drugs.

Turkish Military transports the scum,
there and back, to and from.
Caught on tape by Serena Shim,
her death then ordered by Erdogan.

Freedom in Turkey does not prevail,
all that criticize are thrown in jail.
Crimes not covered by mainstream news,
unless the stories are Erdogan’s views.

He Wars at home, many have died,
another Turkish genocide.
Kurdish citizens live in fear,
their cities attacked throughout the year.

Western nations arm the Turks,
who butcher Syrians for EU perks.
All do suffer Erdogan’s insanity,
a nefarious stain on all humanity.

Bloody dictator on a murder spree,
Sending millions to panic and millions to flee.
Expelling his victims to EU shores,
extortion paid they promise him more.

German Poets express their revulsion,
Feelings expressed by their convulsion.
Erdogan freaks, demands their arrest,
Merkel obeys, to appease the pest.

Freedom of speech now against the law,
for the German people, the final straw.
Apathy now spells Europe’s doom,
division and promise to consume.

It’s time to hang the tyrant’s ass,
the dictator, the monster, the piece of trash.
Here’s a middle finger for the Ottoman Turk,
and a poem of truth about the fuck n’ jerk.

About this Poem: Jan Boehmermann, Bruno Kramm were recently arrested in Germany for reciting a poem about Turkish leader Recep Tayip Erdogan. At the Turkish presidents insistence, Angela Merkel the leader of Germany obeyed her fuhrers command…thus eliminating free speech in Germany…this poem is in celebration of free speech and in solidarity with both Jan Boehmermann, Bruno Kramm who were arrested in Germany for expressing their opinion. Time to repeal that fascist law! AND deal with Fascist leaders…

Monday, April 11, 2016



Life evolves by the planting of a seed...an idea...
resonating into light, to become a sea of profound changes.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Truth and Lies

Truth and Lies

Brought up to be truthful, honest and fair,
and told that the answer to life was in prayer,
we made our start with endless giving,
and when assailed, we were forgiving.

The promise in life would come down the road,
but things got strange when the economy slowed.
Oil costs went up and inflation appeared,
the tale of life became very weird.

Things didn’t make sense as I grew,
the more I questioned, the less I knew.
All we had was what we were told,
and no internet for minds so bold.

The bully emerged, then came nine eleven,
criminality surged, and released building seven.
we watched it all unfold on our TV’s,
collusion of media, government, insanity.

The systems governance and media cries,
expect you to believe their pernicious lies.
While society bubbles around the World,
begin to pop as their sovereignty unfurls.

People the World over, awakened by events,
research the internet till their energy is spent.
Building seven fell, in its own footprint,
takes months to wire, should give a hint.

War was launched from that moment on,
economy is worse and the jobs are gone.
Fifteen years later, ignorance resumes,
criminals still free in corporate boardrooms.

Architects and Engineers: Solving the Mystery of Building 7 - w/ Ed Asner

Video Source: ae911Truth

About this Poem: We want a REAL independent investigation into 911…! Millions of people around the World have paid with their lives because of a story that was covered up and continues to be unresolved. The evidence against the “official story” is overwhelming and so we owe it to our future generations to conduct an impartial independent investigation into 911.  

If this investigation is not conducted, the direct result of 911 will lead us to World War III…that path is already in motion…

Match Day’s End

Photo Credit: Artist Bob Barker Painting “Secret Messages”

Match Day’s End

Winter furnace, row on row,
chase away the evening’s cold,
lights are out, day’s at end,
half past twelve, as quiet descends.

Match day fest has come 'n gone,
derby, cup and the song,
all is quiet, village asleep,
save two boy’s on their feet.

Backyard friends so elated,
connected by cup and wire,
sending message to the other,
no signs that they do tire.

Brimming joy and happiness,
excitement fills the air,
game replayed by voices,
in detail ‘n great care.

All seemed lost and over,
biting moments in the game,
seconds remain with corner,
last chance for glory 'n fame.

Moments held in disbelief,
prayers of hope relieved,
last minute goal by Teddy,
our chances now retrieved.

Jubilation stirs the nation,
and two boys barely nine,
electrified emotions,
ecstatic and divine.

Stadium’s roar still lingers,
match resumes again,
red rush down the sideline,
our captained side of ten.

Official checks his watch,
as our team gains the area,
a forty yarder tally,
sending all into hysteria.

The Bench and stands do empty,
cover pitch at Wembley way,
players aloft, paraded,
by emotions, carried away.

Delighted minds replay the game,
well into the night,
reliving glorious moments,
two friends in red and white.

About this Poem: Some magic moments in sports stay with us forever especially when experienced in our youth. All our worldly problems with their daily strife falls away to ecstatic feelings that embrace moments of hope and divine thought; and so this poem depicts the lingering euphoria of that moment by youth, having won the championship.

Visit: Artist Bob BarkerOfficial Website
Bob Barker Art on: Facebook

Monday, March 21, 2016



I live by society’s grace,
and in disgrace by their revulsion of me.
No one hires my kind, an experienced person in life.
“Get a minimum wage job, or live on the street…”

It’s not for the lack of trying,
that emails remain unanswered, phone stays silent.
If only someone took a chance,
I might not die of embarrassment,
when asked what I do.

I have all the skills required,
except the language of choice,
I’m in my mid fifties,
Am I too old to?

I paid for my own training,
when recession took the jobs away.
Electrical engineering, technologist,
in a lean manufacturing boom.

I paid to get ahead,
but soon those jobs left too,
and took my first marriage,
my family, my sanity, my health.

Ostracized by siblings,
frowned upon by acquaintance,
they’re no friends,
their chorus of condemnation parades me.

“Look at him, he doesn’t work.”
“I don’t like his lifestyle” they say.
when all I want is to support my family.
I’m not asking for much…

Maybe I can create my own work,
try to evolve once again to build that damn dream,
maybe help out other’s, so they don’t have to go through hell,
when asked, “what do you do?”

Hard work never pays off when all the avenues are blocked,
…and that endless condemnation…

I don’t like this world,
they would prefer I leave,
well just wait a little longer,
while I try to give my family a fighting chance.

My little girl understands, she’s learning French.
Though she need not defend me from emotional scars,
her battles lay ahead, when ignorance again, rears its head,
and people say, “Look at her, she doesn’t work.”

About this Poem: What it feels like, to be an unemployed Anglophone in Montreal Quebec.

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Art & Expressions of SF Brennan

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