EMPIRE

The falling away

Losing grip on the power they once held, those who had created their darkest weapon found themselve at the twilight of their empirical rule; the empire was falling away under the shadows of the demise they had created. Their own end was rising before them.

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An Empire of Ash

An Empire of Ash
(Within a land of Dreams)

“We are the mighty Trojans behind our wall,
watching and waiting for the day it will fall.”

Our empire is massive, an envy to the world to behold. Massive in its beauty and ugly in its strength. The men and women who build it's great army which will be remembered in history throughout the centuries are our brothers, and our sisters. They represent the foundation, the mortar to the wall. We have been taught to believe that democracy is the only and right course of action, the “moral” choice of politics, and while true for the most part, a society cannot thrive within a mob rule. To promote these values with force also as if adding salt to an already infected gash.
This is not the country I was born and raised in, twisted and corrupted I no longer recognize the land in which my forefathers had settled and established. These fields of green now elude me and the ground has become foreign. Laws written in code to fool the simple mind, absurd and yet like clock work drones upon drones of mindless sheep step in line to get their daily dose of 'bullshit'.

This world and it's inhabitants have grown strange, to me and mine. Feeling as if sanity has been lost to the madness like a disease spreading viral by glance. Backwards logic fooled by the twisting of words, snaking your perception by deceit. Slithering into the minds of those asleep or still dreaming. They will wake, staring down the barrel of chaos as their nightmares pull the trigger. Finding yourself lost within the proverbial forest. So much is wrong, in this reality. We can feel it, we can see it, and we can sense it on all levels of morality. A bad trip, a bad ego, drama within a coma.

Do I, through these eyes of perception truly see this world any differently?
That deep down I am screaming this is wrong, the whole paradigm is wrong?
When its all said and done, and I am dead. Will I be the one who looked mad?

~addendum~

“Take me to Valhalla, pin me to the world tree Yggdrasil.
So that I may understand the truth, allowing my mind to see
past the lies and deceptions, the myths and the legends.
The shadows to the sciences of the godless.
String me up next to Odin, as I witness the understanding of conscious
thought, the meaning and value behind the eyes knowledge.”

~*~

Watch as the world you knew falls to ashes, dust to an illusion so grand, so mysterious.
Like snow on a battlefield where two sides clashes, How does one understand that god is us?
We act like children who just lost their guardian, so much hate thrives in your blood, bitter to the taste
We have became blinded by our own sin, how far we have fallen from our own beautiful grace.

Walk with me, in this garden of dreams. Share with me the sent of all possibilities.
Shaping our future to change our fate, a chapter to be written by what we create.
What if it were all just a dream, that the true illusion is us just being.
On the quantum level death is but an overture, for we are all born from a star.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This has been a two day project, was hoping to have if finished last night but just couldnt stay awake. These are some of my views on current as well as past tends. My feelings towards current events, and the like.

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Dance of the Swine

Folder: 
Poetry

On the dawn of the coming age of the maser race
the furor's children prepare for the cleansing of the swine
while the leaders of men wine and dine and slaughter the swine
for the glory of the empire to come

To make way for the new world
the old ways must at last be washed away
for the children to praise and raise and sweep the Jew away
in the name of the Aryan God

Who calls upon men to rise above the weak
to crush their faces under their boot's heavy weight
while the shadows wait and fate falls down with weight
to turn their bones into dust

Inside the ovens offspring of the filth cry no more
for the empire's burnt away the memory of the curse
while the starving thirst and first suffer the curse
of their own doing

Lest the glory of the white man never shine
upon the face of the mother earth again
nor open the heart and come in and be without sin again
for the glory of the master race.

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A LAND FIT FOR TUMBLEWEEDS

 

Poor old Britannia is on the ropes
Our once great Nation has little hope
Veterans sleep on our streets
Forgotten by some their brave  Heroic feats
They  build aircraft carriers
Scrap our Harriers
Are they insane
What about the planes ?
 Slashing tanks, artillery and boats
Why on earth should we give them our votes?
Bankers get richer
Its not a pretty picture
Gone now is the Empire
The future is dire
They don’t want the Gurkhas
But welcome foreign shirkers
A land fit for Heroes
Job prospects , FAT ZERO!
 
©  Tony McNally