Saturday, 1 November 2014
This borderline, the click,
Before the wayshower deiform projects his munificent rays,
A revolution-this, a call to arms-that,
A changing of the ways.
But first this ad displays a small box;
You can skip this ad in five seconds,
And in this valley of steaming mindfulness,
Lip-syncing sexily against the masonic symbols and signs,
This grand design masterstroke ignites the tinder-lit honeycomb,
Baptising innocent minds.
Draped in the kitsch visage of silk-screen Che -
Another nougat prophet fracking that socket-rocket -
Pray then - I mean for the Fukushima fisherman, Gaia souls,
The Lord is clearly out of control,
Observe the Agents grin of kick-back lode,
All brought to you by.. relational codes and global modes,
Composed by the self-anointed, the chosen:
The nexus-intelligence loaded against you,
So generously urging you to believe in Love.
Though noughts of plenty lash against the Astral One,
The gnostic gnome shills the sun.
And bone collectors of Soul flower-press the sold,
Sipping leather scented acoustical saffron, chanting:
Everything for a reason happens.
Puppies paw for the crystal-pumping soldier:
Outlier outreach machine, the phantom inside the rage;
Another fat shepherd somewhere bedazzles calves under chemtrails.
And all that Love?
The language of re option revolution,
Utilised to advertise corporate solutions,
The shedding Blue Star Kachina leaves Draco.