May 8, 2025 – Eighty Years After War, Still Choosing Thrones At 6:08 p.m., the crowd looks on, “fumus albus“— thick and strong. Sistine‘s roof, where smoke ascends, A signal: power, that never ends. “Habemus papam“ then rings aloud, The vacancy‘s now sealed and done. A man is crowned, the crowd is proud, As if his rule were heaven’s son. A billion souls to "Papa" sworn, By cardin...

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Every post a sermon, every joke a trial. Laughter is a landmine now— step wrong and you're vile. Eyes scan feeds like scripture, policing tone and word, where irony gets cancelled before it can be heard. They brandish rules like weapons, etched in trending tags, turning nuance into weakness, and context into flags. The crowd won’t storm the palaces, real power lies ignored. T...

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In a calculated spectacle, Trump and Vance sought to humiliate Zelenskyy before the press, twisting truth into propaganda. Their goal? To paint Ukraine as ungrateful, to justify betrayal, and to sell capitulation as "peace." Behind them loomed Putin, tightening his grip as Trump bent to his demands. This wasn’t diplomacy—it was deception, staged for the American people and the world.

 

Tru...

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Donald Trump Jr. resorts to grotesque manipulation in his latest PR stunt in Greenland, exploiting the homeless and downtrodden to create an illusion of support for his father. This cold-hearted scheme reveals a family willing to go to any lengths for a false image—no matter how embarrassing or degrading. The staged scenes in Nuuk, with homeless people wearing MAGA hats for a free meal, expose a d...

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Take a church full of sinners with issues galore,

each needing profoundly the grace of the Lord.

Some trapped in addiction, some weighed down in sin,

some struggling with faith, some who tried but gave in.

 

Some filled with anger and some with regret,

some who cannot forgive, but there’s one group I fret -

the judgmental crowd. They make it so tough,

thinking they have no ...

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Sinners & publicans. Pharisees, scribes.

Unto neither of these could I ever subscribe,

for I read of these groups in the scriptures each day

and both make me feel to exclaim when I pray:

  

“Oh praise be that I’m not as other men are,

like those sinners and publicans, God keep me far

from their damnable words and their damnable deeds,

and more so than this, Oh God keep m...

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It is not a fable or a fairy tale,

even a child could understand my plea

that is why I speak loudly and vehemently

 

I am outraged to see

how those who wield power,

supported by uniforms and boots

see us as nincompoops,

weaving narratives of a distorted history

as if nothing had been there

 

Their very accommodated stories

build paper monuments to their heroes o...

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Like Saul on the road to Damascus
when Jehovah stopped for a word and held forth
Mary Wakefield met Lord God Almighty
on the A1. In March. Heading north.
In a car with something quite deadly
(who was apparently feeling unwell)
his road paved with the worst of intentions
off to Durham, or – hopefully – hell,
coughing and sweating and whining
like some self-centred, sociopath scrote
Domini...

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The Parable Of The Wolf And The Lamb.

 

We are the men of peace, they say,

we hide in plain sight of you all

taking their innocence away.

 

We simply ask that you will pray

for those who sin and those who fall.

We are the men of peace, they say.

 

We ask for penance every day,

we prey upon the week and small,

taking their innocence away.

 

We look after th...

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Fairy Cakes

 

They believed in a mythical being,

who supposedly loved his creation.

Omnipotent and all seeing -

His will needing no explanation.

They followed his lore from an old book

written by disciples raising the stakes -

that one thing they just shouldn’t cook

were those sinful and bad fairy cakes.

 

“Good will to all men” they proclaimed

(but the women di...

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As it is rememberence weekend, I just thought I would post you this, in honour of many a soldier!

 

                                                Oh the Hypocrisy

 

 

            Someone get me a cloth,

For someone shat on my screen!

 

I’m scoping now,

Scoping with a full magazine

Of thirty-two rounds –

The foresight blackened

By my gun oil to assassinate

T...

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Fake nostalgia spews out from your head

For a sepia England that was never there

Hatred junkie, you know

Where the blood river flows

Feel the bile at your knees

 

Marching bands drown out your higher brain

Blaring voices drive your soul insane

Hatred junkie, you feel

Like a cog on a wheel

Grinding so out of time – after time

 

God made you useless

...

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