In a more joined up world,
this it the type of reporting drainstream media bring.'
Its distorting.
From 2020 have your eyes been opened
One world government aims are for our world to be more than broken.' They have
Solutions to solve whatevers gone wrong?
I just wish they would stop singing the same old sad song.'
i watched the clouds flow and change shape
the puddle was reflecting it all while i was list in my thoughts
i whispered myself how serene it looks
then a dragonfly flew past it
and a sudden breeze sent ripples in the water
distorting the sky and flinching me
A mirage
Reflecting another path
Showcasing another life
Man to man
A timeless wonder
Ravaging the mind
Distorting thoughts and persons
Transcending sages
Traversing phases
Life, a treacherous haven
Selling tenuous dreams
Whispering delirious melodies
Slithering into nooks and crannies
Branching far and wide
Dispensing the message
Selling the vision
Fake men do what their ancestors did centuries ago ~
Lying and distorting some words of both the Old Testament,
And the New Testament - hiding the truth showing the fake
Claiming that ancient prophecies that occurred in the past
Are what is\are happening now, and will happen in the future
Fake men know all of that, yet they have done the fake in purpose
It’s been said that love is natural and, hate is learned.
But I see it differently.
Hate is the easy one,
popular, contagious, taught in whispers and shouts.
It grows wild in the mind,
distorting truth at every turn,
a maze that traps those who stop questioning it.
Love though ,
love is the lesson.
Love takes awareness, honesty, risk.
It asks you to step beyond fear,
to see beauty in every soul,
even when the world teaches division.
If love came naturally,
hate wouldn’t stand a chance.
Because once you’ve truly been touched by love,
you begin accepting what you don’t yet understand
and understanding what you once refused to accept.
That’s why I speak on hate,
not to spread it,
but to expose it.
Awareness is armor.
It arrives not as a slow dawn, but a fracture—
A sudden, violent tearing of the gray,
Where neurotransmitters leap in manufactured rapture,
And logic bends to the blinding light of day.
It is a temporary kingdom built on air,
A frantic, soaring, breathless, desperate high,
Ignoring the foundation of despair,
To watch the mundane world dwindle and die.
The heart becomes a drum with an accelerated beat,
Distorting time until the seconds, stretch and bend,
A breathless rush, a sweet and sharp deceit,
That promises a joy without an end.
It is the apex where the self dissolves,
A chemical, ethereal, phantom grace,
Where gravity loses its hold, and ego solves,
Into a momentary, breathless, liminal space.
But at its peak, the architecture starts to lean,
For all ascension mandates a return,
The higher the flight, the deeper the machine
Must crash when the bright, burning engines turn.
Euphoria is a loan, a borrowed debt,
A fleeting, dazzling, brilliant, stolen breath,
That leaves the trembling, wakeful mind to fret,
In the quiet, cold, inevitable aftermath of death.
The Camera Man
Depression
Depression clouds the lens, throwing it out of focus.
Distorting the images before it, altering perceived reality.
Depression hovers above like an ominous, menacing black bird,
hanging onto the winds of times passed, over its pray,
ready to swoop down with furry upon its victim with vengeance,
with razor sharp talons ready to pierce this fragile spirit’s soul.
Dragging it over shards of broken glass, slivers of glass reflecting,
refracting moments, experiences, stories that shed some light
before dropping it all into a black hole, from which seems no escape.
Times passing has deflected, yet the mirror still holds sway to the past.
The past, not but an evil land, a prison with tarnished, rusted, rotting cages
wherein lies skewed images, much like Salvador Dali’s surrealistic paintings.
The Camera Man – Depression, will either find serenity, a beautiful lake, still.
Its surface calm, un-rippled by life’s journey, reflecting not but blue skies .
B. J. “A ” 2
January 21st, 2026
You do not know
of who I am
and yet you brush me broadly.
These shoes I wear
and all I've seen
to wit,
has helped to shape me.
Presumptive you
without a clue
your arrogance astounding!
I do not care,
your thought's are skewed
distorting who I might be.
This brush you use
accusingly,
bristled with ignorance.
Just who I am
or choose to be
your brush
does not define me!
Ripsnorting depravity cavity of sporting gravity
Severity of the brevity cheekily courting levity
Hilarity distorting polarity Tests aren’t a charity
Unpopularity resorting to double downed vulgarity
Clarity for sorting parity then humility not a rarity
Some austerity can feed & lead to prosperity
Precarity due to the complete lack of dexterity
Asperity at temerity & totality of Bazball brutality
Banality of celebrity vanity caused the disparity
Mendacity that red ball is just all about audacity
In reality plans need adaptability or fans profanity
Rapacity of elan talismans fatality simply insanity
Dear Belarus
We need a truce
From the deceptive abuse
Balloons in flight
We all see the commerce sight
Bringing packs of smoke
Sounding like a crooked joke
When they drop
Stop
Think what they will do to our future crop
Using those former theatrical cool props
Known to charm
Reality doing harm
Luring youth to a picture filled with power
Cowboys and planted flowers
Puffing away
Later who will pay
Believing the marketed, product to sell
Distorting human blood cells
Paving a pathway through hell
Still weary
Our other theory
Raisin
About this floating invasion
Where territory gets its mark
Sending a message in the dark
We can shoot them down
If they do not turn around
And go home
All alone
Pondering everything
Especially who has the talent to sing
I spend hours a day looking for the real me
contorting and distorting myself, in new directions
feeling pressure from the eyes of my ancestors
my spirit guides cheering me on, to be me, the real me
I slink around furniture, crawl up stairwells, slither into ditches
looking for the real me
my search has brought me close
I find a sliver of myself sometimes in paintings or my poetry
other times I wonder who wrote that stuff
not recognizing the pen or the paints
I refuse to stop; I shall search for me until the day I die.
one who likes honey
sweetness whispered
whiff of wetness
portent of shadows
sleeping
off the cold
tundra
to utter…to utter
insane
barely brave
bravado covers
the lay
of miles and miles
stickiness roars
from his lips
don’t be insane
his name
an apparition
waiting
to wake up
your nightmares
the intent
of silhouette
moving across
your tent’s face
chiaroscuro
drawn onto
your forehead, eyelids,
cheeks, nose, chin
distorting the thrill
you felt at dusk
this polar beast
might employ
your safety net
as a handkerchief
then nibble
a late night snack
(hand over mouth)
“b e a r”
They (the Legacy media) persist in their use of deceptive practices with the intent to obfuscate what is true. They conveniently avoid facts, that are known, intending to mislead those who are superficially engaged.
The freedoms granted to the media by our constitution, as intended, was for the protection of the masses against rogue governments and or political abuses.
However principled the intentions of our forefathers in granting this freedom of the press, they would most certainly be appalled by the ongoing, intentional distorting of what is true, and what is currently being disseminated to the public by the majority of legacy media.
Today's abundance of available media sources, for those who seek what's true, only adds to the confusion and mistrust of this information. The media's use of their platforms to promote an agenda, or for the purpose of propaganda to benefit a political party or political outcome, is exactly why we are no longer,
(United States)!
We have been given a myriad of reasons not to,
But I believe in tomorrow
Yesterday has lessons of despair and doubts,
But I believe in tomorrow
Some of our todays are unbelievable,
But we must believe in tomorrow
Yesterday and today were good, bad, and ugly,
But I still believe in tomorrow
Revisionists often try to change history,
distorting facts and creating fiction, giving
me more reasons to believe in tomorrow
No account of yesterday nor reality of today
can stop me from believing in tomorrow
Implosion of democracy
Explosion by hypocrisy
Not what God meant to be
Twisted by man’s hands of deceit
Whitewashing history
Distorting views
Blatant blasphemy
Stringing together fools
Ignoring facts
With liquid laughs
Dismissing science
Utterly madd
Doing favors
For the rich
While poor laborers
Get short stick
Dozen eggs
Expensive to get
Daily bread
Tainted chicken and fish
Can’t feed the poor
In USA
Sending it abroad
More than what stays
Not that we can’t
Be a good neighbor
But home first man
Kids deserve our favor
Burning wick
of politics
Dividing inciting
Not uniting with
Guns flood streets
As felons hit bricks
Made guilty free
Despite January 6
I’m no God
I know sin too
I just watch
For Him to move
No nation divided
Can stand tall
Is it decided
Will it fall
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