Bro-Ken …

The atmosphere is shrouded

The memories, like moving pictures

I wade through every time I stand

My tears go uncontained

The egos which push me down

So they can feign;


It is my candle of strength

Knowing the truth

A flame they want to destroy,

To steal the light of day;


I hold the hope,

Others will not betray me,

Like the dears I lost because of my naivety

To trust.


(c) 2017





The subjects who tried to approach the people owned by this land, connected to me

To launch some kind of anchor, to raise a roof below

The female flaps of evil

And run an war of mentality

Against the planets conscious direction

and design.

They have fronted to the masses

Trying to cast a frame of mind

Wanting for whatever catches to continued

All the whilst I see they are mimicking the deeper

Cognitive of me

They scratch upon the surface, trying to be projected whilst they are pummeled from behind

Trying to will transference of my touches

Onto other peoples state of life

Pinching at parts of my immortality

Cross contaminating the continual of the insightful eye

Trying to drain the brains of people

Whist thatching to the retina of the eye,

This optical illusion

They toy with the immoral and shout rainbow,


Whilst they will to reflect my all as a horror

And refute the charge of dishonor

they see evil in their downlight

refusing to accept the assistance of light to set them free

All to busy having fun

Challenging the cosmos, and her rules

As the goal of their game;

A game that came from refusal

To accept the progress of destiny

And act to manifest a portfolio

Trying to tell fate

Where it should go

Impersonators so empty

They try to turn the facts of planet as host upside down

Trying to use a person

As their host

Whilst they steal and harm health by what they

Concoct in the everyday

Never accepting a defeat

They try to spin the words I write

Wanting to make to people take awash the truth of them

In insinuation and see it of me


© 2016


The conflict has already started; those who were responsible for ebola; where science beat, nature showed. They try to use the science of combat of zika to cut back into the ebola frame but by spreading darkness across peoples eyes. I try to cut that off, but they employ racism and hatred to try and call this nation black, not light, storming up the want to dominate all eyes as they want to engineer a nation state.

I gave time to deliver the code, but was thrown away for a chase of the dollar; to chase a delusion of conquering what was mirrored inside of a cunt struck mind. That lack is the deficit, where the definition is sucking back the positive energy and spreading negativity.

Energies are correlative to the core and the seven marks of man. There is no tricks which may force a imagined state of fallacy and illusion to allow a fraud to reign. Nor for the weapon of love to be a static field of conscious permission and zen, especially when it is produced from the evil eye or supports the description thus devaluing the definition (the woman pulled into a forbidden womb, by a man born from a forbidden womb, looking backwards in time to try and wield their own now as a higher power than the continuum of time and mortality).

I write this because My now is so oppressed by the game to compress me into nothing. The concepts I have read through psyche are being used as suggestion to conjure up pebbles for my future, so that the evil minds can try to draw their binds and restrictions and cast them out, thinking that they will be removed from them and someone else then gets the problem of solving. All people will only have their own destiny and fate, may no one or many be conditioned by this evil threat. The transference of evil, because evil defied the lore’s of life and has a heart is all surface and superficial, the trails of such malarkey I wish may not harm humans, but my wish can not be considered a gift to the evil.

Jesus was conspired against as his immortal soul was targeted and an illusion cast. The same was done to me in this life, by the same two people. They have for centuries, chased trying to achieve a sanctuary where they could be worshipped. They tandem with others to try to trick the minds eye and destroy the cosmic light of time to spread their dark frame. .Correlation does this on a much larger [global] scale, and is not theirs to denounce or trump by their foolish and feeble attempts to manifest their own myth. Simply, they have taken the reason for their denial (being correlation) and used it in the backswing of resentment to try and pitch the insightful state of value and performance, they try to turn many peoples heads backwards and looking in the wrong direction of time, trying to upraise themselves in a higher power. Along with it, a place for excuses (and uncouth and extreme behaviour) to be churned without any regard for the lore’s of conviction and intent. This damnation is a global atrocity.

No condemnation of my noticing shall allow it to be the future norm. the past cannot be over-turned regardless of those trying to make majikal flips. Destiny dissolves thing which are not meant to be kept, but those who refuse destiny to uphold what is denied by fate are people which have no allowance to infect in a godlike or spectacle sense.










Tru3 Lov3

I am having a moment, please don’t harm me for doing so;
In true love, the focus is always about the distance, never about the gives,
At least in this I believe.
In true love, the reason for connection has a depth, beyond gratification,
It surpasses superficial and aesthetic
It is about the bonds of the invisible heart.
In this moment that I know, the cosmos has a great effect
In this truth that I am sharing,
True love has always had my heart.
I detested expectancies, for they were obstacles in my familiar
More like demands than the rewards for discipline and an affectionate hand
My loneliness was transverse.
In life I combatted those who tried to walk across my crown
Who wanted to keep my eye as their own
Who assumed to straddle me
Disarm me from their own bad interpretation
And pin me down.
Those then who willed
To dis-believe me
Appropriated my imagine, my spirit
Wanting again to be in that space of superior;
They sort to entice me
They lied to defame me
They, so begrudged, used slander
Innuendo, and
The element of doubt as the clout
Whilst all I had was true love,
My honor and my conviction.
In this moment, I stand as a victim,
In this truth I am a survivor
In love I will keep the truth,
Onto another day,
No-body can take that away.
For it is not many who are so lucky
As to have more than several true loves,
But, in this moment, I dare enough to say
There is none greater, which has been crossed
By those who do not have one.

© 2016 LRS


Memories of the imagine
Reminders in touch
Peoples past stories

Which can never be transferred
Onto me; into mine
To the aura of adverse

Who is anyone to refute fate
Instead to assume
It is to die

Playing to create destiny
Where desire turns the wheel
Defying the harmony
Instead trying to control the vortex

I wonder if my actions for existence
Shape these radical games

Where the depth is electively forgone
And mimicry the design

What idiot tries to steal an eye
To run the focus of a show
Trying to engineer the attitudes
Of subjects they squirm within

Locking in a room
A mother who does nothing but love her babes
Teaching them the respectful ways
Nurturing what they saw together
When they saw with her from within

Strands of life have pathways
Stands have spine and sin
The planet has a consciousness

All characters are absolute
Energy is planetary
Not universal
Yet existentry


Every time I write, they feel I push, in their favour.
I do not.
So, they wage warfare because they fail to fly in mine.
Time spent in love. Love of connection, knowing and yet unasked.
As a result of their ignorant failure to recognise and listen,
they exploit my identity.
I refuse to allow my shadow to be their hollow shape,
for inserting light into to get at the minds of many.
Their inner struggle their love.
They didn’t want to give up the fight.
Fighting truly, the shadow of themselves.
Wanting to be branded by those outside.
Willing to steal, to counteract the stories within,
To march and devour the myth of the hour
In effort to see themselves as the future.
The conflict in me,
In me alone
Is the knowing that I see
I see them refusing to grow
Instead wanting others to grow and empower them.
Taking what they looked at instead of what they were destined to give
Abroad, and for the greater good.
Transference effect other people involved, they too want only advantage
I am not their scape goat.
The knot of the two the vacuum of resist
That should have been cut by the talk silenced up,
I took back with the last kiss.

© All rights reserved. LRS.


What I have problems with is betrayal,
The way that denial becomes the convention,
To defeat the golden mile,
To feed those who accept that playing with logic;
Tricking the eyes,
Will lead their ego
To success,
To inspiration …
There is no need for me to torture myself
So that I can be torn apart
For the guilty wanting a scapegoat
To anchor insincerity,
There is no glutton for punishment
In my heart or
Like plaque stained teeth,
Only the will of what grounds me;
Not the grounding force of oppression
The wisdom,
I see others over educated on technology
Arrogantly they detest
Betraying themselves
I guess,
Because they see life and light as a pest.
A way of experience,
A means to engage,
But their terminology drains their heads
Of knowing the variation,
Giving the blackness which holds their light
Aggression everyday
Free-range, but not free of earth,
Scared they shun all the good,
Wanting themselves to be consoled
I know that this opinion of mine
Can be a superficial one
And an obstacle,
They reflect,
About me.


Anjos have legion,
People try to create
In vain or in desire,
the mechanisation.
The summons of god and satan
The dexterity of Michael and Gabriel,
The purple and the blue
The moderate and superficial
The nothing
The gender
The Mars and the accords
Jupiter in transit
To Pluto and afar,
When the construction is broken by the question of validity
The tumbleweeds cry
Ignorant to the fact their quest for utopia was denied
Wanting to fake a sorrowful cry
Drumming blackness
For the victorious to yield and give to the lessor
Who was without a heart but wanted
There to be a cause for their fall
Something more than
Seeds undone
The summon a shadow
The angry one
In the transition there is scorn
There is the wind between the phrase
the insinuation that is invisible
Where darkness are acclaimed
The want for the power
The power which beat
An infusion of resistance
Along the wrong retreat
Like wishes and moments
They only come once
The sordid feel happiness
In refusing to be
To be the mended
so they can draw
harrow to me
What is is is
What is chased
Remains in the belong’ers hand
That made in delusion
Only draws demons to demand