This is where Alfred J turned up - he turned out to be a nutjob:
My new poem: Choose Childhood | Keep Britain Free
My new poem: Choose Childhood | Keep Britain Free
My new poem: Choose Childhood
As the madness continues, I will keep writing poetry to document events. In time, I might get around to writing Corona Diaries Part 2. This is one inspired by the narrative that we need to taint countless childhoods in the name of protecting the elderly, whilst it is very clear that those in power don't actually give a stuff about our old folk. All this achieves is to instill shame and guilt in our young for daring to want to live and feeds into the divide and rule agenda.
Chose Childhood
Let them embrace life’s magic,
It’s closer to their spirit.
Allow those days of wonder,
And treasure every minute.
A fleeting state where carefree days,
Create best memories.
So one day when they’re old and grey,
They’ll play like melodies.
Fill not their days with worry,
Keep shamefulness at bay.
Don’t say they’ve murdered Grandma,
For their Human Right to play!
They’re no-one’s sacrificial lambs,
Don’t slaughter fun and laughter.
Don’t make them wait for better days,
To long for what comes after.
Don’t taint what is most precious,
Mask their joy or tie their feet.
In time, will they forgive us,
For a childhood incomplete?
The present is the only gift,
That we can, to them, bestow.
Fill it with life’s simple joys,
And unbridled, let them grow.
As the madness continues, I will keep writing poetry to document events. In time, I might get around to writing Corona Diaries Part 2. This is one inspired by the narrative that we need to taint countless childhoods in the name of protecting the elderly, whilst it is very clear that those in power don't actually give a stuff about our old folk. All this achieves is to instill shame and guilt in our young for daring to want to live and feeds into the divide and rule agenda.
Chose Childhood
Let them embrace life’s magic,
It’s closer to their spirit.
Allow those days of wonder,
And treasure every minute.
A fleeting state where carefree days,
Create best memories.
So one day when they’re old and grey,
They’ll play like melodies.
Fill not their days with worry,
Keep shamefulness at bay.
Don’t say they’ve murdered Grandma,
For their Human Right to play!
They’re no-one’s sacrificial lambs,
Don’t slaughter fun and laughter.
Don’t make them wait for better days,
To long for what comes after.
Don’t taint what is most precious,
Mask their joy or tie their feet.
In time, will they forgive us,
For a childhood incomplete?
The present is the only gift,
That we can, to them, bestow.
Fill it with life’s simple joys,
And unbridled, let them grow.
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