My constant companion, sometimes friend and instructor

As we waited at the village border of illusion and reality,
the invisible Mr. Blaze would often walk onto our realty.
He had landed one day from over and away, with swagger and sway.
I often heard him before I saw him.
Most Saturdays the aroma of pudding and souse filled the air to the brim.
It went down your throat, under the shade of his lime trees, like lava,
but this did not stop the heated palaver.
Blazing hot after he drank rum, rum and more rum.
He talked, talked, talked, and talked.
Sometimes it was almost enough to make a sinner balk
but not far enough to draw profiles in chalk.
Most people said it was the rum talking but in it was seen a forking.

Now years after that history caulked and, somewhere down the road on life’s marathon walk,
I gave a full pardon to rum; it was now free again to hum, strum and drum.
You see, it had been pain all along, that was his constant companion
and as each internal layer peeled like an onion, of his tongue it gained more dominion.

Further along the streets of life, familiar voices, flew by in formation choices.
You see too, pain had become my constant companion, sometimes friend and instructor, as well as everyone else who met the living call to daily muster.
They had all suffered loss and, loss of loved ones, their personalities stripped, to emotions bones. Some now spoke in off colored tones, reasons known to them alone. Their inner landscapes a lonely place gnawed by groans.
Hi. How are you? The response, how are you? As they hurry along, slaves to social convention, few disembark before the stop for pension, just to mention.
Pain, my constant companion sometimes friend and instructor says conversationally at my right shoulder, “They are not real.
Any association with them will flail and even eventually fail”

Pain my constant companion and instructor is with me daily.
In the Supermarket, as I checked the prices, pain is at my elbow, saying the prices are jacked too high. We already know the why.
At the energy pump, pain on the price per liter, exclaiming what a bunch of cheaters. It pains the thought, of cold heaters.
On television and radio, pain at my ear, telling me things are not right
and what they are saying is full of blight.
All those Covid Doe lies are far from alright.
Resist and fight with every might.
Stand with the true Light.
Despite the spell cast, in eye blind damage mode,
make exposing the truth, the more, your rummage code.

Pain my constant companion, sometimes friend and instructor
never shouts nor pouts, but merely points the truth out.
If you look, you will see their emotional pathology, the form pain takes in them
and the paths it carves are not mythology, rather cold factology.
The wise pilgrims among us have learned to listen to their constant companion and sometimes friend,
saying it saves them from a lot of braying and avoids involuntary straying.
Like replaying moments of my delicious honey, who was only just here, my thoughts infiltrating, pain elbows me in the ribs, warning there were never any dibs. That ship long sailed downwind on jib. I wondered whether my friend was just being glib or was there some fib.

Pain my constant companion, sometimes friend and instructor,
on any day could be on the subject of suffering, the elector.
It was easy, as people we knew, pain and I, rushed for the unproven nology, completely ignorant of the untested new med technology.

My constant companion sometimes friend was whispering in my ear now,
They are asleep and will not see the toe step creep for what it be.
They think it be what they say it be.
They look askance at you and me.

My instructor who had been hovering close slowly arose at this prose.
Nudged me away, from them we would part ways.
Our consciousness awake, we, humanity would not betray.
We will not be painted gray by these mask donkeys brays.
Damned be their psychological drays with their engineered frays.
Mainstream spell cast them all day not caring what price we pay,
once their ratings on high stay, monetizing their play.

Therefore, we must act and do what is best for us,
and also, in God put our trust. Faith is the must.
Eventually all their reptilian power, money and blood lust
shall all be crumbled to dust, eaten like rust at the cusp.
We, as the moral people shall win for our cause is just.
Unlike the reptilians, and their denizens, who shall burn like stubble and husks,
before the time of no day nor night, as the Light ends the rule of dark and dusk.
All this time, pain my constant companion, sometimes friend, was emanating instructions, as torrents of photons were wicking it, like smoking ethereal musk.
We will fulfill victory’s task and then in triumph bask, with a strong cask.
Then my constant companion, sometimes friend and instructor would us all unmask. We would deeply drink from pain’s flask. None why will afterwards ask.

CI-436572325 Knight Truelove Poems