moon handed


Give us the name of the Man in the Moon and we’ll let you keep your eyes on the floor.
Get to his brother and we’ll keep you under cover, if you promise not to answer the door.
Ring them bells if your story ever sells, we promise we will do you a deal.
Give us the name of the Man in the Moon and none of this will seem real.

You remember a time when you felt like tomorrow was another day?
Instead of hiding in the corner alone, with a looking glass and a tray.
Well hold on, there’s a hole in the sun, just drink this and you’ll see what I mean.
Give us the name of the Man in the Moon and all your fears will be seen.

I remember from long ago, a face looking down on me.
And I remember from long ago, picking out faces only I could see.
“And all we’ll take from you is your last born. Understand, this is not your game.”
Wheels within wheels, snakes head father. Mother cries and looks away.

"We created revolving doors and those black and white chequered floors are a sign of the fusion,
for the Fabian wolves to meet. Wait for the signal in the sky, don’t you waste your time asking why,
you are food, for the Red shield wolves to eat. We’ll keep you squabbling about the “facts”,
about the rods that are bound to the axe, as we bring in our new world, order by deceit."

You go on thinking for years and years and try to row the river again.
Like a bundle of rags or an old school bag, it will always remain.
We listen in, we know where you been, kicking heels as you try to reveal.
Give us the name of the Man in the Moon and none of this will seem real.


















All that I am, I’m told is here, but there is a moment and an age combined.
One watching, the other moving one way through time. Position and value unknown,
but here.....

I'm falling from; I'm falling from grace, between the scenes of the moments,
the captive of the blind observer, at the mercy of the faceless preserver.
I ask “when am I?” and I feel near, filters applied and an induction in fear,
Memory gone, educated in borders. Winding and spiral dictator.

Don’t believe a single word they tell you, all the world’s a stage; a Phosphor cage.
Lines and lines of lies, scrawled across every single page; touch the veil.

And then, finally you’re told, it doesn’t look like you’re gonna grow old,
everything dissolves, but you. Polemic and parsing distinctions, but you’re out in the cold.
And it’s all been so fast, the only thing left is the past and the stark, bitter truth.

Misanthrope, the weekly costume drama plays out hymnal bliss. Go on; make a wish.
The Royal Arch and the confessional lager lout play whispering games, to fan the flames.

And for all you’d like it to be, there is nobody in here but me and I must go on, alone;
Alembic, stuttering flame. Swimming through a partisan sea, to a house for the "commons"
to be and a pantomime dame conducts, on a bended, Hollywood knee.
Raise the veil, on a bed of time. Believe. Knocking at the door of the Canaanites,
swearing the Real. Break the Seal, reveal. Face your game.

The saint in the suit checks in and with a message of Truth he begins, with a Tavistock
smile, then denial, playing the Caligula child.
Flashing the proverbial wonderland, mercurial hoody wows with a Promethean waltz:
Face your game.

As above, so below, the earth bound map that points the way, plots the farmer’s course,
they were always here to stay. I saw the man who wasn’t there, the leg of the bull and the
hunter’s belt, come shimmering, straight on till morning.
The wheat was cut and felt the serpents kiss, and with many functions turned to ‘off’,
were dismissed and there the veil was drawn.

The slamming of the ritual niceties, the Saturnial ring worms through invective phase.
Spiralling into the half life state, promises of rapture fail and so begins again.
But the DNA is waking up; shutting down the ministry of Lies and Thought Crime games.
Sleeping fractals wake unbound and with the blink of an eye, the walls come tumbling down.


sleeping with fractals



























Press to start over; reality blinks, we’ve just begun.
Smell the great roaring light, feeling for whispered, knowing son.
Roll the night over; promises of treason in the haze.
As far as I am able, I set belief turning through this maze.

Sooner or later, the firebrand sparks and stretches south.
Calling through embers; the pale blue rider marches out.
We call through these five senses, connected light streams through from the heart.
We navigate the lunar lie, now Saturn rails and bites, but won’t depart.

And so, we begin again, falling through the cracks in the here and now.
What’re you going to do? How’re you going to land? What will you become?

I Cast out the cold belief, useless as time, they’re on the run
I stopped doing as I’m told and now my focus is wider than the sun.
Take your false flag terror lies and your big book of war and melt away.
I won’t give my consent and you’ll do nothing in my name from here on in.

It’s not complicated, no special understanding is required.
I opened my eye and moved the point of my view from me to all.

Compliance retreats again, “For fortune and glory”, cries Candide.
Vibrational lechery, energy feeds corrupted seed.

Refusing the Shekel loan; chase money changers from our gates.
Throw out these “leaders” now, let the reptile slavers face their fate.
A mind of my own to think; no parasitic predator, hiding with no face.
True Sol in through the water, bright and welcome lover calls to midnight’s grace.

And so we begin again, falling through the cracks in the here and now.
What am I going to do? How am I going to land? What will I become?



holographic rain
















the key


A wrong turn down and a poor disguise, a little further down the road and I realise.
Calm. Drowning in parallax news, but a ripping yarn, fluid, your grasping consent.
A winning smile and perfect prose, a little common sense and a blackened rose.
Hold the line for good will sent, stamping herd, bleeds common rent.
Obey, Don't Ask, Consume and Die. But it's a little late, for scratching at the coffin lid.

In the name of the father of forever, I'm baptised with a loan account, peeling off the
layers of will, I'm incentivised. In the corner of the room I hear, a whistle and The
Captain's shout. The changing of the guard again, but the "I" remains.
Hidden, the dwindling of the day. Sanctions, the murder States, the way.

Resonant, catastrophe, reeling in the sceptered Isles, Kneeling, beside yourself, abandon
the darkened miles. Then carefully splinter, the perfidious whisper, the rusted nails that
burn your flag, screaming to the mast.

Mother Courage is calling time, from her suite in the midnight hour, falling Galileo
strikes the pendulum. The diversion of the river shows, the body of the Jack Of Hearts,
and the lamb is thrown to wind and weather as sacrifice. Mark the dwindling of the day,
the lunar spell begins to stray.

Clinging, insolvency, borders with an empty gate. Spitting, Surpentine, stealing off the
neigbours plate. Now marking the timeline, with a carpenters ferver. So you waste your
days and spend your time, Learing at the Fool.

Pouring my senses, sweet internecine, out of our veins and onto the street. You couldn't
re-arrange me I'm told and as a consequence, I'm sold. Riddle me silently to sleep,
the constant keep.

But you know, the pain you can't recognise. But you know, and you'll soon realise ....

(You can't have my tuppence to invest Mr Rothschild)
Search with your desperate eyes, look how the time it flies, all comers welcome on, the bitter ice.
(I'm going to feed the birds today)
Slide down the rabbit hole and immerse yourself, digging up the dirt, pushing the feeling back.
(Take your feduciary spell of seduction)
Crawl through your sense of age, but the wave it sees no time at all, or the large and small.
(You'll wane and you'll wither in your halls alone)
A penny for the the ferryman, I'man also ran, I 've got my ticket here.

But you know the flow you can't recognise. But you know and you'll soon realise.

(You can't have my tuppence to invest Mr Rothschild)
A gust of corruption blows through this house, concentrates and knocks me off my feet.
(I'm going to feed the birds today)
The hard rain that never falls, hangs upon the air, falling down, on the vapour trail.
(Take your feduciary spell of seduction)
Aegean stableman, awaits the flood, but any price agreed will be paid in blood.
(You'll wane and you'll wither in your halls alone)
A penny for the ferryman, I'm an also ran, I've got my ticket here...

But you know, the flow you can't recognise. But you know and you'll soon realise.

































my machine


It was one of those days, the whole world looked grey, I fell to my knees determined to pray.
Can you hear me? Can you hear me?

I’ve got a microscope and a pocketful of stars to wish upon. I’ve got Solomon’s Key,
The Dead Sea Scrolls, Israel Regardie’s Tree. I’ve got a large Hadron Collider,
a hologram sitting in a Petrie dish. I’ve got Hawkins and Dawkins telling me to set myself free.

Ooh lay me down, Ooh lay me down, but don’t lay me out.

All of a sudden, this is ‘My Machine’ and every five years I get to give it a clean, with a dirty old rag,
that’s covered in blood, and the rest of the time it grinds me into the mud. Here is what to think
and these are the sides you should take. Here is who you should no longer like and this is how to hate.
I’ve got a slot in the door, where the world gets in, after the postman has been. I’ve got the Vatican
Acolytes telling me to keep myself clean.

Ooh lay me down, Ooh lay me down, but don’t lay me out.

A change in perspective, I’m not alone in here; with a turn of my head I can abandon the fear.
Zig zag meandering; grateful for falling through the Looking Glass. Peering, free from the binding
degrees. Souled up and wandering, staring through the night at their industry. Steering, free from
branded and illuminate creed. I’ve got the Owl and a Ziggurat telling me to keep myself "real".

Ooh lay me down, Ooh lay me down, but don’t lay me out.

The figures flew out of the geometry. The polemic embargo on reality. This system feels,.... it’s Alive.
A conjuration, a hologram, an ocean in a vessel, the mark of man. You’re not meant to find it unless
you look. Unless you look. Feed my soul, just tell. Feed my soul, just tell.

An obfuscation, the endless search, the symbols gather dust in an empty church. But this system feels, alive.
Broken infant with fracture signs, the roar of life and the river climbs. The intention rules here, I’m aware.
Feed my soul, just tell. Feed my soul, just tell.

















underlying symptoms


Morning in the barracks of the dreamers; the whisperers keep enquiring minds at bay.
The buzz of idle news keeps a droning, dismal beat.
It’s in the water we drink and everything we eat. Control.

Look at the invisible enemy and their latest escapade. Solutions to the problems that don’t exist.
Keep our eyes forever, on the middle distance fear.
The Tip Toe at the end becomes so clear. Too late.

Wading through the Fog, chemically re-arranged.
In the Kingdom of the Blind, the one eyed man is King,
until we wake. Until we wake.

Twilight at the gathering of the woken, the ruined House of Thieves is long gone.
Lost, but still together; No Contract, No Consent.
We decline their invitation to the grave. Resist