Long Infiltration Poems
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"Whose the little child?
His eyes are red
from all the tears he shed,
He has no more tears left,
Mother Father dead
No, B lessened
Homeless, no known relatives
No where to call home
A fugitive cast away
Where's the village
The Government's too busy
He B lessened
Dodging the elements, the gangs
infiltration nature
He is saddened and grieved
Because he's abandoned,
no one here has an ear to hear.
We B lessened
For not one of us
Picks him up
His feet are shoeless. in his mouth.
He has nothing to chew less
Nothing to drink, he is beyond homeless
And impoverished woe.
What a situation should not be
B less, be less
In this circumstance.
There should not be no stipulation to be deprived minimum subsistence, free
Clean air to breathe
Free sunlight, free shelter.
He B less
Temporarily caught in circumstance
Where is his hope?
Where is his parents? I digress,
He has nothing left but the tattered
Clothing on his vessel,
Why must this alone shall
Where's the village, the more
Those whom will aee that this little
child matters
Humanity must learn this wholly-Holy lessen, what are more and not B lessened."
4/10/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
Whether you believe in gun laws or not,
Taking away guns is not going to change
The mentality of the deranged
Taking away trucks would not have stopped
The recent NYC attacker from harming people
On a bike path, as it happened
The frustration is brewing because,
There is not an easy fix such as this being portrayed
There are so many ‘other’ issues, not addressed
Such as a failing judicial system and corruption
Infiltration of the enemy, criminals ‘empowered’
Also, lack of help for those who need it
Division with Americans instead of uniting
Transformation continuously happening in America
It is a big picture and a very complex one
Until it is looked at fully, this will escalate
Yes, we are grieving, hurt, wanting positive change
However, the focus on one singular issue endlessly,
--- Will not turn this around ---
Heidi Sands
11/6/17
Cats go out then cry to come in.
A runt-end of shade wilts.
We feel the pull of a Lunar tide,
sense the off-center mewing,
of a dissonant aria.
Trembling dogs hide their body-bones.
The air is strained through fisheyes.
A clammy light gnaws,
while white-faced mice scurry
on twilit paws.
There will be an end of sorts,
a draining away. First, there must be,
this ailing after-glow,
an infiltration that wounds
the tender skin of reason.
A mad moon had broken lose,
from the cellular jails of fitful thoughts.
A dead Siren rampaged,
in a cold rage of silence.
The day may heal, a new dawn,
defeating all spectral trails,
all night-walking fears.
Until then we must watch
a pall-bearing dusk
depart on crumbling stilts,
observe from a dwindling distance,
a naked crone wanes,
turns in ever narrowing circles,
as she seeks for her life.
In search of the truth,
To understand the invisibility of the cosmos,
He journeyed into the deepest parts.
He went beyond the threshold of light,
Experiencing both assimilation and infiltration by dark energy.
He consumed everything he encountered,
Forgetting that there’s a sound in silence to which the mind should be attentive.
There was a deluge of information,
But no painstaking sifting through the truth.
He became enmeshed in the horror of the unveiled.
He found himself in a world of strange theories,
Juxtaposing and infusing art, mysteries, and truth.
He travelled this path,
Colonised by the tendrils of what he had absorbed.
Until one day in a dream,
He met a sage who advised him to search the scriptures,
Going beyond the words to seek the embodiment of its light.
February 9, 2025.
Poetry. So, perhaps - A Zombie Nation Suffering from Mass infiltration - must Collapse..
Populations of hitherto otherwise spirited God faring Humanity,
Our civilisations,
Are forced by a Judeo-Masonic and brazenly satanic Slight of Hand,
An abhorrent clearly visible and desperate Profanity,
That are now suffering in states of obscure, catastrophic, multiple humiliations,
In an increasingly psychotic dystopia and obvious desperate land..
Unfortunately, we were living under imposed and indoctrinated suppressed liberations,
For, it was never in truth a Sovereign State,
No matter one's naive comprehensions,
Though sadly it was always intended as our eternal fate,
We ask you now - what are we all doing in this awful fixed aberration..?
Relaxing our grip on reality to the point of exasperation,
Escape if one can to the natural wilderness, with family and all worldly possessions, with overdue necessary quickness,
Away from occult Jewish control, psychosis and creeping, accepted, imposed sickness,
As they have prepared and employed all manner of emotional traps,
Our freedoms now rely on our mental fitness..
Do you now concede to our shared predicament and reality..perhaps?
As I sit here and write you are my witness..
A Zombie Nation Suffering from Mass infiltration - must Collapse
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
15th September 2025
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Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Analysis. Music. Shared
I vented the wooden nickel, racing down the highway going to fat couldn't pack;
Eating linoleum flavoured kitchen tea towels cat ridden rodents just got carjacked;
The anchor washed the clothes of the drummer in beat;
While nasty peroxide infinite infiltration spread across the heavens
Also back on them streets
For air aged wooded bleachers and plastic tic-tocks;
How often do the sheep sleep in caves;
Master Rhymer must be rhyming;
Cause! Factor factions decision made divided by bald headed lambs;
Can cottonwood be more than a tree;
As the flights of the washing machine;
Irons out the wrinkled mountain;
The way of flabbergasted ??
Today's world is such a mess
With evils integration
We see daily the list of lies
Beyond investigation
And yet above us flies the flag
That denies lies infestation
Taking us where injustice cries
Of greeds determination
Education comes disguised
As honesties demonstration
Using tools that often deny
For the sake of ostracization
Giving reason to the words
Of prejudice inflammation
Joining ideals of false accusers
They invent instigation
We ask why the cause of certain ones
to have this type of fixation
The reason given this time around
Because of there migration
Quiet goes the unaware
Given to hesitation
While even comes to the extreme
Of the livings extermination
The bridge too far has been crossed
With flagrant allegations
Leaders are chosen and given charge
Of wild extreme vexations
But almost goes to the cause
Of evils infiltration
Thanks to God for concerns
We find through Revelation
I cannot tolerate the ones with haloed head
Who boast of their achievements, put on an act instead.
I cannot tolerate the perfect, always right
Who claim to love their neighbour omitting black or white.
I cannot tolerate the ones who share your pack
Pretending to be helpful then stab you in the back.
I cannot tolerate the friends who pick your brain
Intent on infiltration determined to make gain.
I cannot tolerate the types who wish you well
They swear to loyal virtue, but then they kiss and tell.
I cannot tolerate the false and double-faced
They are the parasitic, their tongue with poison laced.
I cannot tolerate the guys who look for fights
They cause much harm while pleading the law to back their rights.
I cannot tolerate the tempters with their faith
They are the instigators, the ones who love to hate.*
They cannot tolerate my face, but I’m alright
My aim is to expose them, oppose with all my might.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Here I am referring to those who commit crimes and injustices in
the name of religion.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
16th June 2014
Contest: Tolerance
Sponsor Freddie Vee
A mountain sits
And a river flows
A mountain suffers her tears
And the infiltration of life
Wildflowers necklace it
As the goats dance up and down its rocky parts.
It can wiggle off snow as well as a buffalo a gnat
Knowing it will be better for the snow to leave for awhile and come back when it has changed from its journey back.
The mountain stays
And only changes slowly
And it comforts the variable lives
That tend toward a flippant love
All around it
How weak is a volcano to succumb to its burning lust? How selfish.
A mountain is our shoulder
It endures the triviality and variability of short bursts of butterflies
In the meadow
Constantly
And outliving most of us.
Like the crying sky whose tears fall on him
And forget on a sunny day that he will always be her shoulder
Even when there are clouds between them.
I hate robocalls!
Inxs of recorded messages
transmitted automatically
to my telephone number
by automatic dialing device.
I turn off damn ringer,
and disassemble (carefully
as disabling a time bomb)
internal workings nevertheless...
telephone still buzzes
twenty four seven
eight days a week
automated telephone calls
digitally recorded message
perfectly spoken English
differentiation to distinguish
"FAKE" simulation
all bot impossible
totally immune to escape
gagging hospitable invective
electronic jawboning immunized
against antipathy, cruelty, enemy,
hostility, insecurity, pleasantry
Yukon run to tallest mountain
dive into Mariana Trench
get catapulted into
outer limits of twilight zone,
yet NEVER be free and clear
getting wirelessly zapped
with visual ad audiological
offal dregs and spam
(minus the green eggs)
oh... yes even after life,
while weightlessly
pinwheeling in limbo,
particularly during eternal sleep,
when dead souls repose
six feet deep
or corpse undergoes cremation...
yepper, infiltration into atomic core
blithely battered, jimmied,
cherry lee pitted, tweaked,
worse fate than return of Zombies
electrical essential existential
incorporeal surreal auditory ordeal
spurs indiscriminate human
to relish golden silence
spawning best selling novel
to flesh out fiction
Utopian treasured island story
winning unknown author
instant acclaim and glory
describing village people
livingsocial, free and clear
without annoyingly,
egregiously, infuriatingly,
maddeningly, quaveringly
vexing, nauseating, disrupting
blitzkrieg courtesy aggravating
trumpeting autonomous programs
hijacking brainstorming concentration
thwarting aim tug get back on target
(even when carrying on camping)
sundering coalescence
regarding colonizing black screen
aborted doomed genesis
of brilliant fleeting idea,
contributes to conspiracy theory
linkedin with ghost calls
thus one smart
generic garden variety
longfellow forced to
grovel along boulevard
of broken dreams
on a green day.
Any resemblance between above
hyperbole and living person
asked courteously by his name
of the human league,
I police tell the caller
purely coincidental!