Level 9: Losing My Religion




“Level 9: Losing My Religion”

The Outside world is dying.
Do you feel it?

Something fierce and distant
is calling the Light close within
compartmentalised covert assignation
to rise like a revolution to strike a match
it must freely choose to create new beauty 

from the scraps 
of The Outside’s ancient dark, 
the remnants feed off its vitriol, 
like a vacuum it sucks the weak in,
its hunger firmly embedded in their brains

its worldly stories like a web, 
become its un-holey fishing nets twisted, 
The Outside hauls all the lost schools in, every last one, 
bullets and guns, wars come from one machine - 
the Other’s pain, is its rollicking fun

addictions become its fine needlepoint tapestries to pass idle time, 
the endless switching of channels, ratings, click-bait bodies and minds, 
soullessly scorched, the traded pillaged and raped, projected to blue-light screens
useless eye candy for the vaccuous minds, the electric voices amplify 
the poisonous hornet hive mind

The Outside feeds 
off fear, the division and drama it creates, 
like a bully it exacerbates - 
and lower level emotions, now climax heightened, 
it bends over and overtakes

The Outside 
does its damndest to control, 
playing each off the other, 
it feeds it’s jackass muling pets, 
the lobbying factions – bit by bit

all hypnotised into believing they are one for all, and all are won

it hangs its mantra like clean washing on a line where necks are shot, 
the turning point where bleeding hearts are hung, “ah” it sighs, 
like a compassionate traitor, “this is the cost of sacrifice”;
its most alluring is brought forward all golden front and centre stage 
freshly sending its paradox message, 

“all is forgiven”, passed like a communion plate on an ellipses wave
chinese whispers on the breeze, the missed meaning lost in translation in between 
what is left hanging, the unsaid  piercing illogic in plots catastrophic yet to be fully witnessed
where unhinged promises from the mouths of the monster swiftly open like doors
to swallow the tortured all won, who have been fooled, to believe they believe -

the dirt remains glaring and obvious; by the minority - the truth of it all, is clearly seen.

The Outside 
has a parched need to be Alpha like Omega 
it stands ego astride in the middle of the road with its detour sign, 
it regularly does its best to dim the Sun 
with its murderous shadows in beast mode, just for fun

some choose to continue with it 
their hand on heart, pledging allegiance, 
they breathe into its farce reality, a job performed, like a trick well blown, undone
The Outside’s war is an inverted race to achieve peace 
until it has broken all it has won

with the pain of darkness its cruelty crushes hope
the gormless saturated in grief, fan its desires like an assassination in prime time 
before the eyes of innocent children The Outside is forgiven
the tribes in awe, still and gullible, raise their hands, sing their hymns, some joke 
the alternatives with their tin foils, are portrayed sacriligious

they speak of what we were originally sent here for, 
“we the unawakened, are coaxed to awaken
we are met in our dreams, soul-trained, possessed yet never taken
we were transported to this prison planet, and for this fine extravagant experience”, 
finally it registers, with the ringing of service cash registers, and jangling chains

“we agreed to be contracted and damaged; to feel the pain.”

“eyes, minds, and hearts opened  
to the Truth, our one true purpose -
to be as Gabriel, a rose by any other name 
the meaning of a name (God’s Strength), now like a legion of angels
to rise up as One from within, in our unified resistance conditioned by pain”, 

a revolution of Light pours forth, only as One -  true creators reign – 

to remember, to protect, to raise up, 
all children like lambs
the infirm of body and mind, 
the faithful unheard minority
those cast from their homeland in the deadly buy and bye

all worldly creatures 
air, sea and land
without sin 

something is calling the Light from within 
that which is hidden and anchored 
that silent voice that echoes from another dimension within
long ago forgotten, the one Word, like a stealth bomber avidly watches 
the uncontrollable dark, while The Outside spiralling spins

Codes ignite, 
the Light roars from dna ladders 
the language and message of the Word is written within 
It climbs up each rung like a racing fire on the wings 
of each bearing Level 9 insignia, the sound of divine fire sings

holding unified hearts as Its shield
from open minds – It stands impenetrable, It delivers 
Its thoughts and Its words, ultra violet stable and firm
Its arsenol of Truth in Its hands, become Its sharp glistening swords 
only as One Light, creators rise from within the above;

The Outside is in its final death throes
in horrendous pain The Outside slowly dies, 
the dark and its shadows never to be borne again
its sad sorry underworld, overtaken by Light;
this is the end game.

Heaven inside is rising like the Sun -
only as One, a new world wins,
all are won. 

The Outside world is dying.
Do you feel it?

This is how Heaven begins.

As above, 
so below.
It is done. 

This is how Heaven begins. 


Candide Diderot. ‘25




“Those who are wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, 
and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars, for ever and ever.”

humanitymusenarrative

♡Like0

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.