• About
  • Books by Michael Ray King

Poetry in Black and White

~ Life's cares in words and art…

Poetry in Black and White

Author Archives: Michael Ray King

I Am the Day After Tomorrow…

22 Wednesday Mar 2023

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

I Am the Day after Tomorrow…

Mists
Dreams and Realities
Pain
Sorrow
Hope
Fear
Anxiousness
Immortal
Dead before my time

Hollow yet full of void and questions
Absent of all answers save the few I tackle today
For the questions remain dreams
Until the soul searches out truth

I am Yesterday’s Tomorrow
Offspring of the Day Before Yesterday
A grandchild of decisions and discoveries weakly tested
Solid ground nothing but a dream
A fantasy
While nebulous mental footsteps work diligent
On the futile effort of internal peace

I become this moment
Only once allowed
Because the haunted heart grows weary
Thus the refuge of the Day After Tomorrow

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Ghosts

05 Sunday Mar 2023

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

The Alpha Post

I no longer ask when this began. The invitation of stupidity. The collapse of dreams, of prosperity, of common sense. Our sun once rose upon a land of achievers. People of intellect. People who forged great cities, brought to life amazing inventions, and cured diseases.

Mentors once drove me forward, lending me wisdom to build my thoughts and dreams. In my way, I passed on in kind, helping others trapped by their own restrictions to discover they possessed so much more than they’d ever imagined right there in their beautiful, chaotic minds.

Somewhere we lost ourselves. As a nation. As a people on this Earth. As a person.

Who is John Galt?

Fear now rules our land, our minds, and our lives…

One of the most egregious Fear Mongers in our society this present day other than our politicians, propaganda spouting machines (otherwise so-called “news media”) and Big Pharma is the vapid, insipid Weather Channel. This mouthpiece of everything FEAR has been spewing its drivvel for so long it seems to get a pass from even people with active brain cells. Remember how the reporters would massively overact in wind-blown rain? How they would be nearly falling down when a gust of wind shot its pitiful invisible daggers while walkers in the background strolled with no difficulty?

The Weather Channel stooped to new lows this past week. They reported on what they’ve dubbed a “zombie virus” in Antarctica. Please. PLEASE! Ask yourself WHY would they call this “Discovery” a zombie virus? A frozen “virus” was purportedly discovered underneath the frozen tundra. The virus still possesses a glimmer of life, hence the moniker “zombie.”

Why “zombie?” Because our education system has failed us completely at this point. We’ve raised generations of young people who are doing their best to chemically and biologically defy science and nature to become zombies. Who in the hell, with any level of analytical intelligence would buy into this? The present crop of young people, that’s who.

Why do you think the lying, deceptive, manipulative CDC would place a page on their site addressing zombies? Why would the vilest liars of this world like Fauci (I won’t dignify his soiled name with his “degree”), CNN, Gates, and other slithering snakes, push “vaccines” down our throats or, more specifically, into our arteries and FEAR MONGER the world into submission?

Our present generation of young people suffer systematic destruction in our education system. Those who are willing to stand up and fight the scourge of lies cannot get a voice because our corrupt government, media, and healthcare refuse to acknowledge any facts that do not serve their destructive agenda

Zombies permeate our youth, another of the initially benign seeming distractions of online gaming. The subliminal repetition of subjects like zombies, UFOs, and climate change (don’t get me started on that farce…) will condition this generation of young minds into believing anything they hear. Hell, this strategy has worked on left-wing adults, people who should have acquired enough education to know better.

Oh, my apologies. WHO money (read Fauci and his wife) did not go to the Wuhan laboratory that created and released/leaked a virus for which Moderna had already created a supposed vaccine that PERFECTLY matched the DNA sequences of the virus hyped to the world four years later. What a boon that was to big pharma and to government’s massive overreach of authority all over the world.

Create fear and panic, use this to strip basic freedoms as simple as healthy breathing, steal people’s jobs with lies, ruin millions of businesses and lives, all in the name of a new world order which so few even recognize. The CDC and other “scientific” entities are now saying that masks did nothing, which many of us already knew because we actually studied and learned in school. The masks were EXACTLY the same as mandating nuclear bomb alarms in schools in the fifties and sixties where we, as children, were instructed to take cover underneath our desks. WHAT A CROCK OF SHIT BOTH SCENARIOS ARE.

Our government knew the radiation would be airborne. They not only boldface lied, they never bothered to apologize nor even attempt to correct the misconceptions. Same with the masks. The truth was being spoken by MANY legitimate scientists from jump that the virus molecules were so much smaller than the gaps between fibers in masks that rather than a deterrent, the masks were actually a health hazard, which again, many of us knew who retained lessons in school growing up.

That our corrupt and despicable media pedaled all this propaganda is as disgusting as it is predictable.

Now that everything that was called “Conspiracy Theory” three years ago is now being left-handedly admitted by media and government, WHERE THE HELL IS THE OUTRAGE? People lost their jobs over LIES. People lost their lives over LIES. People could not attend the funerals of their loved ones over LIES.

I am stupefied that the left continues to act passively in the face of the revelations that they were sold a bill of goods as rotten as anything ever perpetrated on this planet. The left supposedly “cares” about people, yet no one is giving back the jobs to those who lost them simply for NOT BELIEVING LIES. No outrage in the left. No condemnation of our FBI (who knew all along) and other governmental agencies that pushed a massively false narrative on us.

This reeks of something so large and sinister that I don’t believe anyone can truly wrap their minds around it. How does someone, or some entity, acquire so much power that they control big pharma, world media, WHO, governments, corporations, political parties, education systems and more?

Come on people. Get your heads out of your asses. Admit you were duped. More importantly, walk away from the fearmongers like major news networks and crazed left-wing progressives who are dumping us into another “Dark Age.” When they have you believing males can have babies and that you must change your pronouns, you have lost your grasp of reality.

There is no depth these people will not sink to. Less than one percent of the population is dictating lies to you and you sit idly by and allow it. If you cannot take a stand now, you never will. The evidence of the coordinated destruction of truth is underway and we are far past the point where we need to make a stand.

Unfortunately, I know few who bought into the lies will back away at this point. The sad thing is, when all is said and done, even the so-called conspiracy theorists will not be able to crow ‘I told you so’ because the destruction will be so complete. It’s coming. The next big fearmonger experience is in the works and on its way. Continue to buy in and we all lose. Sick people like Gates and Soros and Fauci and a very long list of conspirators will have their way. Hopefully, there are enough of us willing to fight a cowardly, lying, despicable enemy who hides rather than comes out and shows themselves and their sick agenda to the world.

When Will We Ever Learn

World darkness
Creeps like a targeted, manufactured virus
Lies as a media giant run by powerful, cruel men and women
Slithers through good people’s lives spreading its ilk
Death its merchant, its client, and its goal

Why
Asked only by half the population
The banned question of anyone who smells a rat
Vicously attached as hate speech
Once a staple of science

Safety
Stamped out on myriad levels
Physical
Mental
Emotional
Practical

Peace
Will be absent forever as it has never reigned in this world
And the nature of mankind will not be reconciled
Even with diminished populations will not happen
Not the goal of the gutless powers who hide their destructive ambitions

When will we ever learn?

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Vision

23 Sunday Oct 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

When each day realizes no memory
When each day falls into oblivion
When each day leaves you alone
When each day abandons hope
When each day sentences your heart for death
When each glance produces no passion
When no breath arrives without sorrow
When no thought germanates brilliance
When no amount of love finds your would
When no words nor wind nor sun nor rain move you
When no touch comes to your pathetic rescue
When no sight elicits nothing but grays and sincere blackness
Your eyes fall open to life…

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Transcendent Music

21 Sunday Aug 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

I am sad for seven and a half billion people on Earth. Each one, robbed. Cheated. Excluded from one of the finest sets of music this man ever witnessed.

Saturday night, spanning two uninterrupted hours of harmonies that pulled tears from not only your heart but your soul as well, about 20 fortunate humans held captive by the music, enjoyed an energetic, personal, night of music by the Parachute Brigade at Taylor Books in Charleston, West Virginia.

The night kicked off with a warmup “sound check” five minutes before the performance was scheduled to begin. At that moment, this music-lover knew the night held magic. The only question asked of my ears and heart? Will they be able to carry the night?

“The River” beautifully kicked off the evening. The harmonies. The passion. The smiles adorning each performer’s face – all interwoven throughout the evening of personal connections with the audience – kept me riveted. Much of the set contained original music.

I know, I know, people, including myself, don’t like to get away from the familiar too much. Cover bands flourish like dandelions on a neglected lawn. The particular lawn I metaphorically speak of here? The music landscape.

Sure, many bands write their songs with “one-day” hopes. This band, this Parachute Brigade writes songs of life. Experience. Human emotion. Not only do they write outstanding music, their tight harmonies and adept instrument playing soothe AND engage the heart and soul through your ears.

The set contained a number of covers, one by a band I never heard of, which was unfortunate in its timing in the show as my phone battery decided to call it a night and I did not record the song title.

The first cover of the evening delivered a smooth, melodic version of “Fever,” a pleasant surprise. Brittany McGuire’s outstanding vocal kept the original tension of the song and delivered with softened tones. A couple Tom Petty covers, “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Free Falling” were spot on through the use of a quartet of incredibly blended voices.

My favorite cover arrived with an energetic (as it should be) rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain.” Not only did the energy match the tune, quick thinking improvisation by Eric Robbins had him grab a small, empty suitcase and beat it like a drum so convincingly, Mick Fleetwood himself would be amazed!

I must state, however, that the covers were NOT the highlights of the evening for this listener. Yes, well crafted and excellent beyond expectation, but the homegrown music of fellow West Virginians threw me to the edge of musical ecstasy.

Songs like “Gold, The River, Old Pond, Carry You Along, I Wish it was All a Dream (not sure if that’s the title but these words were an incredible repeated hook in the song), Family of Trees (again not sure of the title but a beautifully haunting song), and California.”

“California stood out to me amongst a night of outstanding songs. I believe they stated this was a new song. Bravo!

I’ve been blessed to have witnessed and enjoyed some of the most incredible concerts in rock ‘n’ roll over the decades. Tina Turner live at Walnut Creek in Raleigh comes to mind as an amazing concert. That woman worked hard! She invested herself at levels mostly unseen in rock music. That stands as one of my top ten concerts of my life.

Then, again at Walnut Creek, Styx with Dennis DeYoung. Oh. My. God. Only 7,000 people showed up. Did Styx slack off because of the low turnout? Walnut Creek held around 25,000 people. Hell no! They absolutely delivered possibly the finest arena concert I’ve ever enjoyed. They stand in great company with the “Elton John/Billy Joel” tour which I caught both in Dayton Ohio and Atlanta Georgia. Numerous Elton John performances, Fleetwood Mac tours and Heart.

Tonight, I witnessed a band that poured their hearts into their music. Their love of their music transcended something the big arena concerts cannot touch. There was no money involved. Ok, sure, I know there must be some stipend or some monetary lure to play in a bookstore. Maybe not. Maybe this band loves playing so much, they just show up one night on the bill at a bookstore in downtown Charleston.

Regardless, the band members spoke with us, the audience, lending us background inspiration for many of their songs. After the set, I made a lame attempt to convey to them that this two-hour set was likely the finest set of music I’ve ever experienced. I don’t wish to detract from the great concerts I’ve attended like Heart’s performance in Wheeling, WV on their Bebe le Strange tour.

It all comes back to that intangible, no intangibles. The Parachute Brigade sang and played their asses off tonight. The connection between artists and audience soared into a music paradise. I’ve pulled a link to the Parachute Brigade covering Tom Petty’s “Don’t Come Around Here No More” in a studio setting. An AWESOME rendition, but I’m telling you, tonight, in quaint little Taylor Books on Capital Street in Charleston WV, the version I heard blows away even this excellent rendtion.

It all comes down to the musician’s passion, their passion for playing live, and the connection they successfully built with their audience. This acoustic version of the Parachute Brigade blew me away. Don’t pass on a chance to attend a live performance by this nine-year-old band. You will not be disappointed.

As promised, the link to the Tom Petty cover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y7a15YNe6Xo&t=353s

Yes, 7.5 billion people missed out on this marvelous evening of music. I won’t speak for the 20 or so other souls who were fortunate to be there, but I count myself one of the twenty luckiest people on Earth because of this evening. I hope to get many more opportunities to enjoy The Parachute Brigade live and in person!

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Truth

07 Sunday Aug 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

“Someday in the future, a few people will push buttons – and millions will die a terrible death.

The problem with war is that the people who want it don’t expect to die in it.

And the problem with our memory is that it forgets, cheats, and distorts in order to survive. She turns death into an adventure if death spared you. But death is no adventure: the point of war is to kill, not to survive.

Therefore, only the dead can tell us the truth about war.

Words of survivors cannot convey it fully. “

Erich Maria Remarque

Vision Is Very Deceiving (1957 )

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Moral Dilemmas

20 Monday Jun 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Here goes.

What the hell does one do with a moral dilemma? Not some namby-pamby-little-nick-on-the-heart-and-brain-thing, but a full-fledged, life-interrupting, and irrevocably-changed moral dilemma.

A moral dilemma that costs you valuable sleep. A moral dilemma that costs you health. A moral dilemma that could conceivably cost your life.

What I’m writing about is not the decision. The decision is/was cut and dried. Done. The tsunami aftermath, hell, the tsunami of dread that crushed me as the decision was made – nanoseconds stretching into honest seconds, minutes, hours, and now days – roll over my heart and intellect with suffocating fear.

Four years ago, we were forced to take our mother out of the home in which she lived for 66 years. The house was courtesy of her mother when mom was young and on the cusp of raising four children. In July 2018, none of the children could come to mom’s rescue. Mom slipped sadly into Alzheimer’s and our world was crushed.

This beautiful mother desired/desires nothing more in life than to finish her life in the house she raised her family in. In the four years she has spent with my little sister, me, and an assisted living facility, all she ever wants is to go back home.

My little sister cared for our mother for over two years until congestive heart failure forced her to realize she could no longer care for her. I took mom on for 11 months. I was a single parent woefully unequipped to handle the dual responsibilities of mom and dad, and sadly unable to care for mom as well.

When we sold the house, my little sister and I cried many tears. Those tear tracks on our cheeks remain fresh as mother has insisted for four years that she is going back home. The conversations with her have been heartbreaking over these four years. So much so that I avoid talking with mom and little sis struggles when mom crumbles into tears or anger.

This house, the gift from my grandmother, the structure that mom helped turn into a home, is her one touch with reality. Her main focus, which comes very hard for Alzheimer’s sufferers, rests in West Virginia and this house.

When we sold the house in 2018, we were pleasantly surprised when good friends from high school bought the house for their daughter. Last week, both my sister and I awoke to the news that the house was going to be auctioned that particular day.

I had desired to go live with mom in 2018 because the entire family knew of her life’s desire to live her final days in that house. I could not because of my daughter still being in school and a vicious custody battle. Therefore we sold the house and mom popped from place to place all the while insisting that she be returned to her home.

I have a good-paying job. The job is wearing me out. I’ve established myself here in Florida for 24 years. I have begun running my Inspired Mic event after two years of the COVID event. I am blessed with many friends and acquaintances.

I am the only son. In my mother’s eyes, I could do no wrong. This was a burden of untruth I found embarrassing and difficult to live up to. Yet, whenever I fell on hard emotional times, without fail, my mother was there. When the housing market crashed and people were losing their homes, she came to my rescue.

Now, on the spur of just a few hours, I pulled the trigger and won the auction of my mother’s house, the house I know solely as a home, the house my mother knows solely as the home she helped to build. So many tears and triumphs in that house. So much emotion and attachment.

What do we owe our parents? What does it really matter that mom gets to go back. She will be 91 very soon. Her care at the facility is excellent by all measures. My care may end up lacking. Do I owe her this? Do I, at 63, owe her the ability to realize her insistent dream? Am I stupid for walking away from the first good-paying job I’ve had in over a decade?

My heart is broken. I don’t know that I can even secure the financing, although it will not be difficult once I secure employment back home. The pressures of all that must be done and my emotional exhaustion at revisiting this crazy thing I did on auction day. I changed my life and there is no guarantee for the better. My leaving with cripple my employer. I do not mean him any harm. I feel so guilty for doing this for my mother.

I know this feeling. I felt it when we sold the house. I cannot even hope to feel exhalation on the return of the house. There is no promise from Alzheimer’s that mom will be satisfied with being home. There is no exultant happy ending betrothed to me, my sister, my wife, or the rest of the family, and ultimately including mom. I have tossed aside so much to give my mother her ultimate dream.

I have no retirement. I have no assets. I am feeling alone and despondent and hopeless and nearly defeated by life. This should never have happened. But it did. I must get right with myself. Somehow, someway, I must find the fortitude to rise above yet another life crisis. Crisis is a strange word to pluck from my vocabulary, yet upon inspection, I believe crisis defines this situation. I am once again going against the odds and at an age where I do not have the vim and vigor of yesteryear.

I fear so much. I fear my ability to take care of my mother. I fear that I have made such a financial blunder. I fear the pressure this could possibly place on my marriage. I fear that small little town I once loved that is now rife with meth addicts and heroin. I fear leaving the friendships I’ve built here for a quarter of a century. I fear I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. I could list hundreds of other fears all attached to this, but you get the picture.

This is my mother’s dream, her dying wish. I envy her that. She possesses a dying wish. My only dying wish so far is to not die. I’m sure there are many, including my boss at work, that would argue that I have no obligation here. I am not obliged to sacrifice what’s left of my life to make this happen. I will likely be reviled by my boss. I hope not. This is a great pain for me. He needs me. I am not overestimating my worth. It’s a fact. He may be able to replace me, but likely not from what I’ve seen in this job market.

I will be back for more on this. I am being eaten alive from deep inside because of my decision as the only son and the only family member willing or able to put mom back in her beloved home. I know I owe her this. Not just because she has always been a wonderful mother, but because of a lifelong desire to be an honorable man. She raised me that way. I cannot turn my back on this. My mother raised me to be an honorable man. I’m the Golden Child, a burden I’ve always eschewed because I know those moments and times I’ve been less than honorable. Almost laughably, those times I’ve not lived up to the honorable man my mother raised me to be are not times anyone can point to.

People can point to crises in my life and question my decision-making, but I can stand and defend my positions at those points. It’s those deep, secret, personal moments where I’ve chosen to step outside honorability that I know. I”m sure everyone has these points in their lives.

I will not let my mother down. I am her last hope, her last chance to achieve her dream. The cost to me may destroy me, something my mother would never desire, so I must find a way to pull myself up by my bootstraps and help her pass in peace. The crazy thing there is that no guarantee she will pass like that. But without my action in this, the guarantee would be that she does not get her wish. I cannot abide by that.

I will need help. Much help. I will need support. Much support. I am flitting in and out of deep depression. This decision is taking a huge toll on me. Any kind words will be treasured not simply appreciated. Fear is running rampant in my heart and mind and I need to get to a better place. As I said a few paragraphs ago, I will be back. I must purge…

The Good Mother

Days of dreams
Nights of wonder
What little boy doesn’t snatch time to ponder

A wisp of a willow
A snap of a twig
A boy to grow up and live life big

Where did he find it?
When did he know?
Memories cripple him the more he will grow?

His safety stood certain
His ambitions ran wild
All maintained as he was her child

When she left him in tatters
Unable to think
Crushing sadness shoved his life to its brink

Heart weary from the battles of life
He soldiers on to her side
The untidy knight unwilling to hide

A good mother lives priceless
In the heart of her son
He stands with her now until the victory is won

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Hello Darkness You’re no Friend

13 Friday May 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Out of Darkness

Traveling through hell?
Don’t slow down
Nowhere to go?
Keep moving
Hope lost?
Never further from you than your next thought
Love nonexistent?
Not when you fill yourself with love
Fear of death?
You will die
Fear of life?
See the immediate above answer
Too many view death as something to avoid at all cost
So few view life as something to pursue at all cost
One cannot put their energy into dancing with the fear of death without robbing themselves of the joy of life.
Many have died pursuing life at absurdly young ages
Hallowed and hailed as people who lived well
Yet we follow the talisman of old age as the end all and be all of life
Stepping out of darkness requires you to live YOUR life
Not the one you’re commanded to live

“Oh god! You’re a conspiracy theorist!”

If this statement defines you, move on. There’s nothing to see here. Go back to your docile, believe-the-media-mentality.

If you read the flow of information, you can see the manipulations. More importantly, you may learn to look away from the circus. Behind the insanity lies truths of actions most of us would be appalled to see.

Long ago, our media became masters of smoke-and-mirror reporting. They focus on a key issue, get the masses stirred up. Then, while so many folks are weighing in on whatever pseudo-crusaded they’ve generated, the disgusting work is quietly performed without outrage from the masses. Attempt to sue Monsanto for poisoning our food with their genetically altered seeds. While you’re at it, attempt to purchase true, unaltered seeds.

What about the paid rioters a couple years ago? Have you experienced paid protesters? I have. The sheer stupidity of these people cannot be described in words. During the obvious (and massively under-reported) paid protestor/rioter phase, a group disrupted life around my place of work. These people prove Darwin wrong at every turn EXCEPT for those leading the charge.

I observed the key people during the absurdity. The man, in his thirties, oozed a calculated intelligence. As soon as police arrived, he moved his minions on to the next location. They continued to catcall and berate customers walking into the cafe as they left, often full of profanity and vitriol. As I’ve understood since childhood, profanity becomes the final tool of a senseless mind. The focus of people who attack in this manner becomes solely a provocative endeavor.

Many people see through all this bullshit. I’m stating clearly and succinctly if the media is keying on something, there is a 100% chance there is an ulterior motive, never in our best interest. The sickest aspect of this becomes the connection between those pulling the strings of the media and machinating negativity nearly at all times with both corporate powerhouses and politicians blurring the lines between the two at a level that is as brilliant as it is diabolical.

All you have to do is look at our intellectually challenged leadership and connect the dots. The United States of America has been invaded by this political machine which now operates openly in its quest to dismantle our best attributes. These are sad days. The darkness to come shivers the soul.

So where do we look for answers? How do we fight an adversary who controls the conversation like a sick narcissist? That’s the modus operandi of our media. Gaslight the shit out of the masses then points to them as the problem.

If people have not been educated to the level they can see behind the curtain, the lemmings will run full-tilt-bozo to the sea. When media strums the negative heartstrings and points the rabid dogs they’ve created in a particular direction, all you can do is hold on to your sanity, your peace, and treasure what life you can find.

An aside, “my body my choice” only pertains to a certain segment of the population when in truth, anyone should be able to make medical decisions about their bodies. Bring this point up and you will definitely hear the absurd argument – “oh, but THAT’S different!” Continue to point out the simple logic and you will hear profanity and personal attack.

Back to health. Today, the media, among many other agendas, is driving the “mental health/depression” narrative. What’s wrong with that? Nothing if it were coming from an innocent, well-meaning source. The single-most proprietor of negativity and mental destruction, the media, now doubles down to tell us, “Look at what we’ve accomplished” without people realizing the snake that keeps biting them and the bully that continues to knock them down is the folks behind the very articles they’re reading on the subject.

In a perfect world, the most knowledgeable people on a subject would be the ones to go to for answers. In this world, these people stand proud as the perpetrators leading more and more millions to pharma (I will never capitalize this word – they do not deserve it). The media will decry street drug dealers and perpetuate the global power-and-money-controlled drug dealers -pharma. There exist only scant truths from the media anytime they mention pharma. Control now becomes the norm and the masses now roll over the manipulations like docile animals,

Protect your mind. When the crushing volume of media-driven tripe knocks you down, look at who the media wishes to divide. Understand that those who follow the media’s agendas will not be dissuaded. Friends, family, loved ones.

We live in an age when we must cling to our sanity and move forward or be assimilated. In an insane world, the sane person will appear insane. Scant consolation to be sure, but the alternative for many of us is unacceptable.

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Battles

22 Tuesday Feb 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Age.

The toll of life.

So many simply say to pick yourself up and move on.

So much damage. So much pain.

So much euphoria. So much joy.

All exact their payment. The price you pay one day will bankrupt you.

Yes. Joy. Euphoria. Positives require energy. What happens when that energy no longer allows access points.

Huh! (gravely growling voice of a John Wayne type) “Pick yourself up! You gotta have the hunger, boy! You gotta want it! You gotta go for it!

Exhaustion doesn’t tap your energy. Exhaustion doesn’t steal your energy. Your hunger. Your desire. Exhaustion simply convinces your mind, heart, and soul there remains no point in carrying on.

I’m behind the keyboard again. The distractions of exhaustion, videos of great sports feats, Tik Toks, solitaire. What kept me from them this day?

Nothing.

Over an hour of sports, movie shorts, Tik Toks.

The hunger never dies. The desire flails and withers…but never dies…completely.

One day, one wicked day, the passion, the desire, the hunger, will perish completely. Let that day be the last breath.

Whether the words come brilliant, overloaded in pathos and insight, or the babbling of a pathetic madman, allow them to fall off my fingertips through the last breath.

Choice becomes more channeled, more of a struggle with age. The fire of youth, altruism, passion, boil away in the toils of life. Where does this keystroke owe its gratitude?

The intangible will.

That place within us we’ve always needed to acknowledge, respect, and utilize. The unnameable will within which lies as our final line in the sand. That line is not intended to be Tom Petty’s stand at the Gates of Hell, but the line you will yourself to step back into life, take the punches and throw your own.

In this day and age, a major shift has been machinated by sick, moralistically bankrupt powers who would divide a world and set us all at each other’s throats. I’m no different. I am disgusted by bioweapon domination and fear instilled controls that demean life and the simple human beauty of facial expression which robs us of one of the most powerful human traits, smiles and frowns and joys and loves and nearly everything precious to human communication.

I know there remain few open-minded souls. We no longer possess the luxury of an open mind. The manipulations have forced and foisted a black and white world. A do or die life scenario. Fauci’s failed attempts to eradicate large numbers of humans continue to struggle. Eventually, he/they will make it more powerful and deadly.

Screw the thought that the endgame will work out well. The camps have effectively been divided. The powers that be machinating all this strife and destruction obviously will keep doubling down on their media/corporate/governmental control of narrative until conflagration manifests itself.

Unless you live in that mass-manipulative circle that has the entire world choosing sides, there remain few options.

This negative, fear-based world delivers exhaustion to us all. This is what the media, global pharmaceutical drug dealers, and government desire. Take the attention away from “us”, the “us” being the puppeteers, and keep them all fighting, dying, and miserable. Global tyranny has finally arrived. Instead of Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin-type megalomaniacs, we are experiencing the shadow tyrants.

The conquest is not through what we call “conventional weapons” this war is currently fought with words constructed as control through absurd fear and lies. There is no “conspiracy Theorist” here, only those who see and understand and those prone and groomed to mass manipulation.

There will be no “conversions” of camp by this writing. There is no expectation of open minds stopping to consider this “may” be true. There is only the hope that those of us who see, feel, and understand the despicalbe disgraces to humanity will never stop until they are identified and dealt with, do not give up under the exhaustion driven into our minds and hearts by ruthless media, corporations, and corrupted governments.

We either step ourselves over that line in the sand and step into living a HUMAN life, or we wither and die at the hands of those who would gladly see us all dead.

So maybe this is a rallying cry. Maybe this writing is a call to compatriots who are down but not out. The real issue for BOTH sides is not the narrative the media has so carefully crafted and disgusting liars like Fauci have fomented, but each side recognizing that the perpetrators of the destruction of humanity on a global level HAVE NOT BEEN IDENTIFIED.

We better wake up and realize this or the war will be real and the consequences will be a global disaster. Of course, that is the apparent endgame. Follow the money. Follow the power. Once upon a time, the media would do this. Now the slime of sellout pours from the media, a putrid cesspool of manipulation.

Someone knows. Someone knows who is behind this global war. If the identification does not happen soon, all will be lost. Live like a human. Cease being a puppet.

Line crossed.

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

In this Midnight

20 Sunday Feb 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

In this midnight…

Words tumble from the heart
They bounce around like ping pong balls in a lottery shuffle
Yet, these words don’t tumble, do they?
They gain release
Once you allow
Once you cannot deny them their voice
So, they’re not really words, are they?
Not inanimate, prickly-edged symbols
Not brilliance captured
More simply…
Emotions released…
Observations given wing…
Expressions escaping into a reality we don’t understand
Expressions departing the chaos within

In this midnight…

Flow becomes rapid when restrictions relax
Love aches more beautifully painful when allowed to fly
Peace etches silken smoke rings on nascent winds of life
For the snapshot of who you are
That body, mind, spirit, and soul
That intangible, creative, deep-feeling retch
Escapes the captivity of fear and control
Into the realm of shared existence from captive existence
Flow unencumbered develops a meaning
A life
A passion
An anger
A love for the ages
An underlying fear/dread/avoidance/rejection of death
A nebulous meaning
An anti-concrete version of this world and the beings in it
One which fits, just for this moment of keystrokes,
Into an intricate multi-dimensional representation of truth
Only the writer recognizes as the flow squirts out fingers
From the highway of one’s heart.

In this midnight…

I think of you
I feel you in my heart
I see you in my mind
I touch you on the keyboard
I hear you in my memory
I sense the aroma of your life
And I know it to be precious
Important to many
But as my fingers allow the expression from my heart to flow

Important to me…

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Call

13 Sunday Feb 2022

Posted by Michael Ray King in Poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Power.

A whisper
tease
promise
an aspiration
words coagulating in a pool of brilliance
meaningless
yet everything

Keyboard black
etched in white symbols
Mind Cimmerian
sketched in gray symbolisms
Truth
elusive as a thought on a hurricane emotion
Relevance
problematical as an individual raindrop desiring autonomy

Called to indite wisdoms, truths, pains, longings, passions, fears, triumphs, dreads…
all a whisper
insistent
Irritated by negligence
power wrested from the word cloud in one’s mind
limited by imperfections
perfected by the same

Know this:
Love exists
A vast, gigantic well which may only be truly tapped by conscious surrender
Love abides
An unfathomable profundity one only discovers once ego quells under capitulation
Love flourishes
A garden flowered by passions enormous and bantam
Love lives
Not only in Keats’ Grecian Urn scenario but in each breath, thought, desire, longing

For there lives not a human who at some stage did not wrestle with love’s mystery
Power
Love’s power rests strongest in those who embrace and yield to their innermost truth

The Call
She beckons
Every moment
Every thought
Every scent
Every notion
Every heartbeat
Every desire
Every fear

The Calls awaits fingertips,
Dancing waltz’s, cha cha’s, foxtrots, passions
Flitting the black oasis of plastic confinement imprisoned whithin the white symbols
Craving
Release
Expression
An ear to hear
A heart to connect
A gentle boomerang response
A desire for a recompensive echo rooted in the multilingual aspect of love itself

The Call of life
of passion
of writing
abides in love

This world crushes love.
Destroys the will to love.
Inhilates the roots of love
Yet,
The Call
The Spark
The passion
continues against all odds…


Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • LinkedIn
  • Reddit
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Email
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...
← Older posts

Michael Ray King’s second book of published poetry

Enter your email address to follow this blog

Join 1,802 other subscribers

Goodreads

Categories

Archives

Michael Ray King’s three time Royal Palm Literary Award winning book

  • Follow Following
    • Poetry in Black and White
    • Join 77 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Poetry in Black and White
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d bloggers like this: