Tuesday, 17 April 2018

God Speaks - two dirges of prophecy.

Both these poems I wrote back in 2000 (I think).  The first as a response to a poster (very Christian man by the name of Joseph Gunlock from Austin Texas) on the Roger Waters Bulletin Board who could only post verses from the Bible.  I challenged him with this poem to be original in his thinking and and posting.

The second another apocalyptic piece


Plagiarism = Deja Vu = BarkingDogFox

The street peddler pedals his soul,
to all that care and don't,
with microphone and mini-amp he drones on
without staring his sheep in the face,
nor caring for who he converts or not,
I walk by and pity him, but for what?


The space between me and him grows,
for I know that I shan't preach,
nor waste shallow speech, on him nor his type,
for I keep myself to myself and
ride off on my bike, and converse with only my ilk.


But comes to pass when man can no longer, feel
weak when he knows he is stronger,
as jaded posturing street preacher,
spreads his maker’s words and not his to be heard,
in a site designed for free thought.


Bow down, bushy tailed one, look in the mirror,
what do you see that is such a horror,
yourself amplified in shards of light
blanketed by dark,
for your mind is clouded and interminably shrouded,
by someone who's not you. Oh Bark!

So you plagiarise to make your name,
where we free thinkers,
some good, some stinkers,
express our deepest, darkest, lightest,
prose for us and those,
who wish to share our minds and waters.

Well, Roger has spoken to us and for us
and the choking hoards who appreciate free
thought,
so expression is the recession, clouding your
mind, I ask you, implore to leave Gods works behind,
when you make your mark in this thread.

Psalming is calming, for you and your kith,
myth or legend for what, do I wonder,
as history says, that man shall not plunder
the riches of the mind but
seek to search for the sake of mankind,
the answers to questions not written.

Oh BarkingDogFox,
take your hand off your eyes, and see why we despise the darkness that lies within,
with your hands removed you can touch other books
and have a good look at others interpretation,
give your mind-eyes new sensations,
and marvel at what YOU can produce!

The Passenger

I am the passenger,

travelling the cyber lanes,
I am the miff,
the biff, the poster,
of personal creation,
creator of sensation,
I am the passenger.

I feel the breeze,
of megabytes and disease,
cruising the net,
faster than a jet,
flying the miles,
in awkward styles,
I am the Passenger.

I am free, to say
and think how I please,
to bring governments
to their knees,
be hackneyed and old,
and presumptuously bold,
I am the Passenger.


I feed the boards,
and talk to the hoards,
I don't pray,
Just write and say,
what I feel is mine,
like mouldy old wine,
I am the Passenger.

I have the power,
to kill and save,
and dig the grave,
of my absolution,
stamp out pollution
the final solution,
I am the passenger,
I ride.

My message streaks boundaries,
fuels foundries,
lights the fires
and peoples desires
creates conflict
and intellect,
artistic expression
and makes impressions,
I am the Passenger.

And one sad day,
when I leave the fray,
my connection broken
and words unspoken,
the worldly patience
exhausted in nations,
as the Passenger,
detrains at God's station,
I was the Passenger.
And I loved it

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