Invisible workers on both sides
Chose the hills or tides,
Hunker down for the reception of deception.
So bizarre, so hard to believe,
Much less understand the thief:
That old serpent-liar;
All over the media
Transcends the Lyre
Of ancient media, Tyre.
Night grows close,
Another day goes.
Thunderstorms and Tornado
Not the usual Toronto.
Yet global warming near alarming
Still the old hegemony.
How to create the tide of disorder
For the New World Order
Shame. Caucasus mountains, Monmouth's story.
'Twas for Egypt's idols lost their glory.
The Kingdom split; exile, war, and gory.
Who'd have thought He would resent their More?
'Twas just a little fun, some compromise
That ended in wars, famine, dashed promise.
Another trek it was through that same land
Shattered mothers with withered breasts disband.
If only they had listened when Bards warned
Of other gods, the Fall; unbelief dawned.
"Brought death into the world, and all our woe
When our first parents listened to the foe" (Milton).
Unbelief, disobedience, pow'r, money--sex,
"Till one greater man restore us" and Rex, One Brutus, landed upon British land.
Brutus fought and refused the serpent's hand.
In days of old when Caucasians were told:
"For noble Britons sprung from Trojans bold" (The Iliad III.ix).
Through centuries of sabotage for truth
To free our lands from mis'ry and false truce.
Britan'a, Amer'ca, Canada bond--
This was the Charter of the Peoples' Land.
Beware the art of Periclymenus
And all the elements of ruinous dross.
No T-V-- ours the media Lyre
It was not the politician liar.
(Dr. O. J. Graham 22.08. 2008; 30.07.2003)