Before Him!

Before him the road gave way leaving a deep hole

swerving just in time hit the verge

but as he thanked God for his mercy that day

saw the sky light up like a search light

getting out could feel the heat as objects fell

noise hurt his ears as it began to roar

like bombs exploded around where he cowered

fiery meteors from the heavens showered!

 

Not of mankind’s evil and psychotic mind or hands

but an unlimited wrath of the gods

where those who had perpetrated death and carnage

would face the same fate as the innocent

no escape for any living creature as the purge began

before him the earth and sky became one

as no longer could be seen familiar stars nor the sun

as this society’s time it seems was done!

 

Before him witnessed the end yet he knew the rebirth

would come upon the scorched ancient earth!

 

Am I but a story-teller of truth or just of fantasy?

 

#TheFoureyedPoet.

 

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Deception!

Is every thing that we see a deception

or maybe hear and feel

can we believe everything we are told

how easy to create fantasy

images that can be easily manipulated

our thoughts infiltrated!

 

Virtual reality is this our true existence

perpetual conflicts around us

concept of flat earth a renewed theory

aliens amongst us who rule

evil rather than good for those in control

they who never had a soul!

 

Dark governments with classified projects

creating unexplained sightings

witnessing more strange events in our skies

with increasing bad weather

programmes depicting the planets end game

with nobody taking the blame!

 

Conspiracies and false information spread

advanced technology invented

decades ago hidden from the population

weapons manufactured diseases

when it’s often said what really is out there

of the truth who is aware?

 

For us all here is this life a deception?

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

Untold!

Shouting from within the house was disturbing

terrified screams permeated

the neighbours had been use to frequent rows

but even they were shaken

the police were called but never came for hours

the next day people laid flowers!

 

When the house was entered there were bodies

a massacre the description

yet though eight were found spread in rooms

certain the killer was not there

known for their family feud it seemed overkill

a dread in the community did instill!

 

The house lay empty nobody wanted to go near

there was a dark  atmosphere

from a fun street it became somber and quiet

nobody had been caught

who could do such a thing to in this household

it seemed a mystery untold!

 

During the next year several bodies were found

in random spots in the same area

as those in the house mutilated the same way

all related to the house owners

yet no clues to give any identity to the culprit

no scenarios would fit!

 

Theories abounded gang related or a grudge

passing down the many years

they were from a country vampires lived

cursed for long gone wrongs

had caused some ancient beings to hate

so the generations had to eliminate!

 

Wild stories circulated some were simply fantasy

then as the shocking case

had started one night it all came to a chilling end

a body in a ritual type pose

found near to the street in bushes on wasteland

with a bloody axe in its hand!

 

For some reason not explained by the authorities

declared it was the wanted assassin

so there was nothing to fear anymore now safe

file closed no evidence disclosed

that cloud of suspicion would never go away

something nasty was at play!

 

That house where it all began stayed empty

many thought it haunted

slowly decaying over time others reported

shadowy beings following

wandering around the area few dared go

for animals was a no-show!

 

There is a house in a street it could be near you!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

A Pure White Feather

A pure white feather floated to the ground

it made no sound.

Was this from my guardian angels wing

comfort to me bring.

Picking it up felt really soft and so pure

now lonely no more.

 

Or was this just my active imagination

creating this sensation.

Hoping angels were watching over me

that I could not see.

Maybe fantasy yet nice to think this way

comforting each day.

 

In truth simply a molted bird feather

but hope that lasts forever.

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Published in: on 18/08/2013 at 14:29  Leave a Comment  
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