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Saturday, October 23, 2010

The Secret People

Smile at us, pay us, pass us; but do not quite forget,
For we are the people of England, that never has spoken yet.
There is many a fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully,
There is many a free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we.
There are no folk in the whole world so helpless or so wise.
There is hunger in our bellies, there is laughter in our eyes;
You laugh at us and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet:
Only you do not know us. For we have not spoken yet.

The fine French kings came over in a flutter of flags and dames.
We liked their smiles and battles, but we never could say their names.
The blood ran red to Bosworth and the high French lords went down;
There was naught but a naked people under a naked crown.
And the eyes of the King's Servants turned terribly every way,
And the gold of the King's Servants rose higher every day.
They burnt the homes of the shaven men, that had been quaint and kind,
Till there was no bed in a monk's house, nor food that man could find.
The inns of God where no man paid, that were the wall of the weak,
The King's Servants ate them all. And still we did not speak.

And the face of the King's Servants grew greater than the King:
He tricked them, and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring.
The new grave lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey's fruits,
And the men of the new religion, with their Bibles in their boots,
We saw their shoulders moving, to menace or discuss,
And some were pure and some were vile; but none took heed of us.
We saw the King as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale;
And a few men talked of freedom, while England talked of ale.

A war that we understood not came over the world and woke
Americans, Frenchmen, Irish; but we knew not the things they spoke.
They talked about rights and nature and peace and the people's reign:
And the squires, our masters, bade us fight; and never scorned us again.
Weak if we be for ever, could none condemn us then;
Men called us serfs and drudges; men knew that we were men.
In foam and flame at Trafalgar, on Albuera plains,
We did and died like lions, to keep ourselves in chains,
We lay in living ruins; firing and fearing not
The strange fierce face of the Frenchman who knew for what he fought,
And the man who seemed to be more than man we strained against and broke;
And we broke our own rights with him. And still we never spoke.

Our path of glory ended; we never heard guns again.
But the squire seemed struck in the saddle; he was foolish, as if in pain.
He leaned on a staggering lawyer, he clutched a cringing Jew,
He was stricken; it may be, after all, he was stricken at Waterloo.
Or perhaps the shades of the shaven men, whose spoil is in his house,
Come back in shining shapes at last to spoil his last carouse:
We only know the last sad squires ride slowly towards the sea,
And a new people takes the land: and still it is not we.

They have given us into the hands of the new unhappy lords,
Lords without anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords.
They fight by shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes;
They look at our labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies.
And the load of their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs,
Their doors are shut in the evenings; and they know no songs.
We hear men speaking for us of new laws strong and sweet,
Yet is there no man speaketh as we speak in the street.
It may be we shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first,
Our wrath come after Russia's wrath and our wrath be the worst.
It may be we are meant to mark with our riot and our rest
God's scorn for all men governing. It may be beer is best.
But we are the people of England; and we have not spoken yet.
Smile at us, pay us, pass us. But do not quite forget.


Thursday, October 21, 2010

A Rose By Any Other Name

There is much talk of Aliens, UFO’s and we hear of Governments about to disclose the truth about Aliens. As if Governments ever disclose the truth about anything. Stories that there are more and more alien sightings and that we can expect more contact in the future.

I decided to look into this for myself, certainly I had seen pictures of “Greys” heard the abduction stories, but, somehow I had never found these stories credible, however an in depth search was what I decided upon, I followed the trail, Greys, Reptilians stories of the human race being waylaid, subverted and prayed upon by turns frightened, angered me or left me feeling despondent and chilled to the bone.

I could see for myself that much of the “evidence” was just man made craft, wishful thinking or perhaps even a deliberate smoke screen, I could see fraud, could smell a rat and knew things were far from how they appeared on the surface. It was then that a beloved and trusted friend gently caught my fall, he told me to wait, just a little while, and meanwhile take a look at some links.

I followed the links and found the link above, I sat back in amazement, I knew these creatures, not as Aliens, I called them Sprites, and there they were, doing exactly what I see them doing, doing exactly what they do when they help me, I am familiar with these wonderful floating sprites, nymphs or aliens. I KNOW them and work with them!

I first became really aware of them when I moved to London, they make me smile, I went out shopping one day and they were all around, I wondered if other people could see them but carried on with my business, In Sainsbury’s . At the check out a beautiful Asian couple, clearly in love and happy qued behind me, the elderly English lady in front of me was being served and the Asian lady at the till spoke to her in an Asian language, the English lady replied in English, then the check out lady spoke again, in English, this time the English lady spoke in an Asian tongue, I was amazed and turned to the Asian couple to see if they had heard, they nodded and laughed. I laughed too!

Speaking in tongues! Very impressive, I paid for my goods and as I left the beautiful Asian couple called out to me “See you later!” It was a promise. That’s how it felt, a certainty, of seeing them again.

Since then these sprites help me to clear chem.trails to keep the skies over London clear, some how they almost seem to eat energy, they love it, they generally have a happy, bubbly energy, tho’ yesterday when I was playing with the clouds, trying to write S.O.S. they seemed sad, and it rained shortly after.

I can only speak as I find, whatever these are, they exist, they are helpful, do not have a spaceship but do understand energy, and, I believe help to enhance psychic awareness and communications. I know them as Sprites, Fairies or Nymphs, a rose by any other name……………..

What the Elites Fear the Most

Look within and claim back your own divinity