Sunday, January 18, 2015

The craft.

       The craft.




Towering high dividing,
Twin blades of blinding light,
Screaming for some justice,
None shall pass this autumn night.
Folded notes to offer pain,
A reversal of all that’s right,
Taken to some foreign soil,
For which we now shall fight.
Darkness falls in daylight,
Overwhelmed by poisonous dust,
The craft of those who’d conquer,
Fear and terror to our disgust.
Lost these days for innocence,
Exploding stability they must,
To take the freedom swiftly,
Bourne in god we trust.

Woven webs of treachery,
Pyroclastic clouds to hide the eye,
Under veils of secret handshakes,
This island landscape has to lie.
Dropping seven, pulled so quickly,
Falling proof of god they try,
Microscopic evidence reigns upon,
The what’s the who’s and why.
Powerful men are wielding,
Stories of ignorance allowed,
Fed by profit over love,
And an egomania so proud.
Here their craft is strongest,
In retaliation they have vowed,
Hidden their agendas deep,
‘Neath the screaming of the crowd…..







(911 truth shall out.!!!)