Almighty Glory!

There they stand in their almighty glory

feeling above the rest of mankind

in truth they are but bland and gory

yet prone in time to be defined

observed as lines and cracks appear

wealthy their true selves to hide

being afraid the media will not be near

non exposure would dent their pride!

 

How they play the part of the megastar

shinning their light at every chance

money keeps their egos high near and far

thinking nothing will stop their advance

some survive the power and glory of fame

many only a glimpse before the glow fades

blending into oblivion all seem the same

outside of the celebrity trades!

 

How many can we truly believe we admire

some grow old with grace and dignity

others controversial who have dark hearts

who seem to have untimely life endings

that cannot be explained leaving speculation

that leads to open confrontation

its said sold their souls to the devil for fame

mind-controlled who is really to blame?

 

Living in a another realm to the so-called fans

seem oblivious to any facts revealed

all accepted as gods who can never do wrong

for them no luxury they struggle to live

going to any lengths and prices to see their heroes

whose lives may not be as shown in media

false plastic make up covering all deceit and lies

hidden the extent of the real sacrifice!

 

Am I just rambling or is the truth within my thoughts?

 

#TheFoureyedPoet.

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Remember!

What has changed over the many centuries

brave men and women volunteer

to serve and fight for their countries in wars

thrust into those endless conflicts

giving their lives souls and many body parts

there after breaking families hearts!

 

Peace just a word that has been used to entice

those with that pride to protect

the humanity that they are each a small part

who are willing to suffer and die

through shocking hardships and real brutality

yet can man change his mentality?

 

While those who instigate plans profit stay safe

and weapons from nations kill

those they say their freedom fight to protect

lines are blurred who is the enemy

millions continue to be eliminated on the front line

the end to the butchery no sign!

 

Another year has come when we remember them

the fallen graves spread over the fields

some its only a name many there is no name at all

giving the ultimate sacrifice their lives

yet nothing changes the unrest continues to grow

the bloodshed ever onward’s doth flow!

 

I remember those who believed in their loyalty

without question went with pride

hopefully bringing everlasting peace to humanity

through their armed resistance

yet still wait for that moment of world unity

that final end to so much hostility!

 

In my humility stand silently to remember the fallen!

 

#TheFoureyedPoet.

 

Painting!

That large painting on his aunts faded wallpaper

always made him shudder

the realistic depiction of the burning of witches

seemed to him so vivid

those flames flickering he actually felt the heat

glad when from there did retreat!

 

That day came when his beloved aunty passed

family he rarely ever saw

gathered with him at the funeral to say farewell

and after once more parted

a few weeks later he received an official letter

this did not make him feel better!

 

His dearly departed aunt had left him the painting

his body went from hot to cold

in bold letters being delivered by a courier firm

two days from the present

had that trapped no way out nagging emotion

what would happen had no notion!

 

A message had been sent with a time of arrival

growing the intensity of fear

at midday his breath was becoming laboured

as the door bell chimed

dread had built up within his heart and soul

just the thought taking its toll!

 

There before him was the large rapped parcel

taking and signing for his legacy

reluctantly brought it in to his once safe haven

no intention of hanging on his wall

placed in the attic hoping to overcome his dread

trying to hang onto his sanity thread!

 

The first night had a nightmare about witches

they were surrounding his bed

woke up crying out could not rest anymore

bangs came from the ceiling above

had to leave went for a walk never felt alone

the evil seed had been sown!

 

Reluctant to go back even to his own house

yet there was a compulsion

could no way resist headed a familiar path

entered for the last time

to the spot where the package was placed

took off the cover the canvas faced!

 

Before him it came alive hearing crackling fire

chanting voices overpowering

tried to retreat from this grotesque scene

knowing this was his fate

they came out into this world he the sacrifice

to enter our dimension their device!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

The Tattered Flag!

On the edge of an open field hung the tattered flag

the only indication of the battle

long forgotten the torment of lost innocence

or names of the fallen soldiers

one more conflict where nothing had been won

there a feeling of death still hung!

 

Bodies buried in shallow graves where each fell

young lives ended in torment

grass now covered the site and sheep grazed

where restless souls still roam

no cannon or musket fire nor smell of cordite

as two armies clash in the fight!

 

Silence is what greets the visitor to this field

pleasant during daylight hours

as the shadows lengthen a mist hangs low

and voices have been heard

crying out longingly on the endless breeze

rustling the grass and trees!

 

The tattered flag blows proudly in its salute

to those nameless soldiers

from long ago whose spirits will never leave

all those families of the fallen

remember their ancestors ultimate sacrifice

in war a cruel and futile device!

 

The tattered flag remains as a remembrance!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

All Hallows Eve!

Visiting a friend for dinner was an unusual quest

because contact was lost long ago

apprehension because she was just a school mate

who was happier in her own company

why had she decided to contact after all this time

as she never thought of her as sublime!

 

Remembering nobody liked her believing in the occult

everybody thought of her as weird

truthfully the rumours were she was a black witch

naturally the other students shunned her

so Lyn was the only one to make any contact at all

that fact she certainly did recall!

 

Why now had this invitation come through the letter box

how had angel the name did not fit

find where she lived changing her name when married

but there was a desperation in the words

a nagging curiosity the only way to satisfy was to go

but scared as she would be solo!

 

The date was interesting for the meal Hallowe’en

which added to her uncertainty

but decided she had to see if angel had changed

being it was years since they spoke

the address was not easy to find in heavy rain

making her eyes ache with the strain!

 

At the end of a row of very old cottages she saw

the most dilapidated one of them all

even more nervous parked in front on a verge

walked up the dirt and muddy path

the dangling overgrowth touching her face

made it a much quicker pace!

 

Getting to the front door angel was patiently waiting

dressed in a long black dress

making her look older especially with long hair

for a moment she saw an old hag

then back to normal she entered the front room

noticing in a corner a witches broom!

 

The table was laid near to the open roaring fire

in contrast to the outside plot

pleasantly surprised at the welcome received

began letting her guard relax

the meal was soon served with plenty of wine

now glad she had come to dine!

 

Forgetting it was the night of All Hallows Eve

could never conceive the outcome

becoming very warm tired and light-headed

never admitting to being drunk

talking like bosom friends with gusto laughed

obliterated her fear of witchcraft!

 

Soon the midnight hour chimed on the clock

in the hall as Lyn fell asleep

now the cold made her shiver was it morning

unable to move her arms bound

to posts sticking up from the damp wet ground

with a clear chanting sound!

 

Numb with the penetrating damp permeating

her now naked flesh they came

black-robed figures surrounding her closing in

just able to make out markings

certain she was in the centre of a large pentagon

sensing her life was now done!

 

One stepped forward and crouched by her head

pulling back the hood spoke

though it was hard to see recognised the voice

it was angel the evil witch

glad you came tonight to become our sacrifice

raising a knife her heart did splice!

 

Now more unspeakable monsters filled the circle

as angel screamed with pleasure

let the celebrations of the witches night begin

as Lyn’s blood soaked into the earth

her body thrust onto the bonfire the devil rose

dancing around the victim they chose!

 

Hope you are not scared to death on Halloween!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Pub Sign!

The Pub sign depicted a horned devil like creature

the exterior had an unwelcome feel

this was the attraction to visitors the weird feature

it certainly had that ghoulish appeal

rumours told of witchcraft and human sacrifice

the entire building was not nice!

 

Sacrificial blood its said was used to paint the sign

implements of torture and knives

adorned dark walls of irregular and uneven design

where a stench of death survives

from every corner there seems some movement

often faint voices in torment!

 

Hooded figures are often seen inside and without

though often considered spectral

stories suggest some are mortal creating doubt

in caves below the cult goes on

the practice never ended the dead cannot rest

and with visitors emotions jest!

 

The village a hamlet lost in a medieval time line

the old pub the central core

the church now a ruin after going into decline

an unexplained fire years before

the pub sign draws your attention like a beacon

causing resistance to weaken!

 

Yet the tourists come in search of its unholy past

even the sceptics leave unnerved

tainted by questions of  its history the legend cast

whatever the truth its observed

that repugnant awareness takes away rationality

that has led to insanity!

 

It start with the first glance of The Pub Sign!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

The Good Samaritan

There by the dusty war damaged road

laid the body of an aid worker.

A Good Samaritan who gave so much

supporting those helpless.

Caught in this countries bloody fight

a victim of the plight!

 

Brave or foolish there are those willing

to live and work in crisis.

With no safety for themselves but others

yet treated as an enemy!

Being humanitarian above self-preservation

or the risk of retaliation!

 

Through their incredible work and sacrifice

unsung heroes of modern times.

They continue regardless being murdered

within a cycle of evil!

Bringing compassion where there is none

their pleads the leaders  shun!

 

The Good Samaritan was returned to his family!

 

Rest In Peace.

 

The Foureyed Poet.

Published in: on 02/05/2012 at 03:27  Leave a Comment  
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