You don’t know how many Fools have been sent from the future to help accelerate the great awakening and time has run out, so all the time travelers are coming forward. Do you understand how serious fokes from Eden are abeaut saving the world from evil men? 
You don’t know how hard the Yogi mind has had to work to wake up empathy in men who do not give a frack . 

I have no time clef’t for sleepers & non beelive’rs

Undersand? ೱ

Let’s Go.


After dark vapors right the feel of May;
     The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains.
The calmest thoughts came round us; as of leaves
     The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs—
A woodland rivulet—a Poet's death.

After dark vapors 1817 [ Edited ]
John Keats



Folly hath now turned out of door
Mankind and Fate, who were before
   Jove's Harlequin and Clown;
The World's no stage, no tavern more—
   Its sign the Fool's ta'en down.

      With poppy rain and cypress dew
      Weep all, for all who laughed at you,
For goose grass is no medicine more,
      But the owl's brown eye's the sky's new blue.
                     Heigho! Foolscap!

Mandrake’s Song

Death's Jest Book
Thomas Lovell Beddoes



As sudden thunder
   Pierces night;
As magic wonder,
   Wild affright,
Rives asunder
   Men's delight:
Our ghost, our corpse; and we
      Rise to be.

As flies the lizard
   Serpent fell;
As goblin vizard,
   At the spell
Of the wizard,
   Sinks to hell:
Our life, our laugh, our lay
      Pass away.

As wake the morning
   Trumpets bright;
As snow-drop, scorning
   Winter's might,
Rises warning
   Like a spright:
We buried, dead, and slain
      Rise again.

Voices in the air
The Phantom Wooer.
Thomas Lovell Beddoes



We sailed over seven seas
Searching for that missing key
Unlock a new
World harmony

Climb the highest mountain range
Then we took the longest train
Looking for our
Perfect refrain

I hear voices in the sky
In the sky

Hidden rhythms in the rivers run
Blinding beats in the desert sun
Hear them today
Play all as one

Distant voices in a far off sky
Led us to the elusive prize
To the new sound
We testify

There's hidden rhythms in the sun
In the sun
I hear voices in the sky
In the sky



The Vote [1910]

The helmet now an hive for bees becomes,
And hilts of swords may serve for spiders’ looms;
   Sharp pikes may make
   Teeth for a rake;
And the keen blade, th’ arch enemy of life.
Shall be degraded to a pruning knife.
   The rustic spade
   Which first was made
For honest agriculture, shall retake
Its primitive employment, and forsake
   The rampires steep
   And trenches deep.
Tame conies1 in our brazen guns shall breed.
Or gentle doves their young ones there shall feed.
   In musket barrels
   Mice shall raise quarrels
For their quarters. The ventriloquious drum,
(Like lawyers in vacations) shall be dumb.
   Now all recruits.
   But those of fruits.
Shall be forgot; and th’ unarmed soldier
Shall only boast of what he did whilere.
   In chimneys’ ends
   Among his friends.

1 conies: rabbits

- Ralph Knevet