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Posts Tagged ‘Poems’

Fantasy Fairies084

Delusion can be delightful,

at other times quite frightful

Dallying in a day-dream,

foraying in fantasy.

Always a bump,

coming back to reality.

Twinkling with the stars,

or soaring through the air.

Pretending for a while,

not to have a single care.

Then reality bites,

like a rabid dog.

Pulling you out,

of a self-induced fog.

Legs are wobbly,

takes a moment to ground.

Need to re-focus,

by looking around.

Settling down,

strapping in for the ride.

Remembering there’s nowhere,

really to hide.

The truth waits for no one,

at your peril ignore.

The rumblings that come

from deep in your core.

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It`s just a little piece of paper
That I hold in my hand
Just a little piece of paper
That I don`t understand
Why people give it value and say you just can’t thrive
Without these little pieces of paper
To keep yourself alive.
A little piece of paper
Is only what it is
A little piece of paper
You crave for what it gives
But greed and debt and suffering
Are what it brings to you
That little piece of paper
Makes the world go round it`s true
To lose these bits of paper
Would benefit us all
To get rid of all the masters
And bring about their fall
To change the corrupt system
That enslaves us when we`re born
That little piece of paper
Our lives are based upon.

Robert Knox 21/01/15

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They want it for their HQ, this country that we live.
I know it sounds crazy, but it isn’t theirs to give.
They’ve already stole our profits, which can be read both ways.
They’ve already clouded too many, of our brightest days.
They’re squandering our inheritance and they’ll destroy this magical land
That’s why it’s so important, we walk forward hand in hand.
Our tourist industry the focus, but who is going to gain?
If we just keep repeating history over and over again.
The momentum has been building and people are more aware,
with brave hearts walking forwards,  showing the world we care.
The hidden hands grip is tight, finger-prints all over our land.
so please keep on searching, ’til you truly understand.
Remember the stewards the care-takers of the soil,
who understood the value, of our daily toil
Let us open up our eyes and look around and see,
that history’s not as straight forward as it appears to be.
A legacy of hate has blighted our name,
now a story of love can re-ignite our flame.
Disconnected, confused, blighted by lies,
can’t even hear the Earth as she sighs.
It’s time to connect, to tune into our hearts,
it’s the easiest way to get a fresh start.
Forgiving ourselves for mistakes we have made,
accepting where we’ve got to today.
Learning the lessons from all that went before,
writing a future, we can rejoice for evermore.

Curiousity no 5

 

http://www.moneyteachers.org/Rothschild.connection.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rothschild_banking_family_of_England

https://rashellereid.wordpress.com/2014/04/05/the-hidden-hand/

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DSC_0382

We’ve had orchards for public consumption and people singing in the streets. the snail case, water filtration, saints, socialist’s and some really horrendous history. Patterns, poets, philanthropists and our fair share of mystery. We’ve had tragedy and triumphs and starting again, we’ve had dark days that feel, like they’ll never end. We lift up our heads and we keep stumbling on, no longer are the Braes filled with our songs. Our voices are muffled and the tune’s hard to hear, maybe that’s why we’re no filled with cheer. The resonance changes as we come together in song, so let’s do it again before very long. A summer festival, just like the old days, a chorus of voices from Glennifer Braes. Songs of freedom and tales never told, a coming together of the young and the old. Our hearts lifted as our voice joins in unity, we go back into town as a community.

https://rashellereid.wordpress.com/2015/01/25/the-hills-were-alive-with-the-sound-of-music/

 

 

 

 

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The story of Rabbie’s red, red, rose runs deeper than you might have imagined and it even has a Paisley connection.

DSC_0071“The ‘Red, Red Rose’, however, only achieved popularity when matched to ‘Low down in the Broom’, and air which first appeared in the Caledonian Pocket Companion. Burns’s words and the air ‘Low down in the Broom’ were first brought together by the Paisley composer and editor, Robert Archibald Smith, in his Scottish Minstrel, published in 1821.” Read more…

http://www.robertburns.org/encyclopedia/UrbaniPietro17491511816.871.shtml

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee well, my only Luve
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.

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We Are Rising

You can’t sell us out for silver,

And we won’t be bought for gold.

We chose our country’s potential,

In our hearts, it’s hope we hold.

No longer bound by fear,

We’re breaking free at last

Even our First Lady,

Is smashing through the glass.

For so long, all I wanted was to escape,

This country that throughout history,

Has been systematically raped!

But now, I’m loving, this land reclaimed

Breaking free from Britain’s shame.

It’s people on fire, hearts aflame with desire

Cleansed from their tears

No room for fears

As prophesised forever

We are rising now,

And we won’t be stopped,

As we’re leading from within

And we’re rising to the top

Caledonia in our heart and souls,

We’re realising we were always whole

Connected to our land

That’s what was lost,

Protecting it’s become,

a just and holy cause,

Keep moving forward

Face fear head on,

No longer divided,

Cos together we’re strong.

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I’ve ran with the wolves, while monkeying around.

I’ve howled at the moon, without making a sound.

I’ve baa-ed with the sheep, as in flocks they did move,

But to be honest, it was never really my groove.

I’ve seen the snakes as they slithered around.

Trying to make me lose my grip on the ground.

Sleek like the panther, stalking my prey.

Been at it like bunnies, as some might say.

In a web I’ve been trapped just like a fly.

As those racing rats kept scurrying by.

At times like a giraffe I could reach the tree top.

More like an ostrich when the bills never stop.

Sometimes as timid as a little mouse,

Like when the TV folk came to the house.

Then something happened as the cubs arrived.

Something inside me had come alive.

The miracle of creation hid no more.

As like a graceful lion I reclaimed my roar.

It didn’t happen quickly overnight

At times in the cocoon I was such a sight

Exhausted and feeling like it would never end.

It sure taught me the value of friends.

The preparations over, the next stage begins.

And the butterfly is ready to test her new wings.

Flittering and fluttering she’s bound to fall.

For a soft landing those same friend’s she’ll call.

It’s not over yet, who knows where to now.

One day she may even become an old sow.

When the journey’s over and it’s the end of my tale,

I hope it’s fondly you’ll view my snail trail.

Footprints in hearts and ideas in mind.

Helping people see we’re all the same kind.

Feather, fur, skin, scales, wings or not.

We’re all part of nature that’s what we forgot.

 

©2014~All Rights Reserved

 

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