Winter's Vet. Written in faded Red White and Blue ink.

He walks slowly down the dark and frozen street.
The only sound is ice and snow cracking beneath his cold tired feet.

 He looks up and down every ally, hoping for a warmer place to sleep.

In the great country there is no place that he can call his keep.

 If you were to take the time to look close you'd see that he is neither young nor old.

Not so many years ago ago he wore the countries uniform and oh looked so bold.

 In combat he used to call down his nations Hell Fire.

While before the Wars he sang in the local church choir.

 But today these skills and not even worth a dime.

Still he is to proud to beg or turn to crime.

 Deep inside he feels tonight little of the winter cold.

As his mind has slipped back into his Wars so old.

 Across the world in jungles and deserts so hot and wet or dry.

Where in his bloody memories he wishes it had been him out there to die.

 Why was it the kids so young and still wet behind their ears.

Yet by useless Wars made killers far beyond their years.

 Yes when he came home all the people this time said they did their best.

Still at home there are no jobs for him or so many of the rest.

 Profits today are made not by a strong young man's back or even skill.

Ship the work overseas where its done for pennies on the hour still.

 Bonuses for Banker's will make this Christmas merry.

Their campaign gifts a politician's reelection sure to carry.

 So of Winter's Vet nor you or I, are really anyone in powers worry.

At last he sees a soup kitchen run by another Vet and smells sweet hot Curry.

Dedicated to all the Vets of all the Wars and their families that suffer with them.

Often harder at the Yule time of Winter's year. May the Solstice Sun bring us all a better year.

 The Druid King

Copy Right December 21, 2011 by George King (Another Vet from forgotten Wars)

A Soulless Night: Written in Blood Black Ink

Did you ever walk on a black and soulless night?

Where the Stars never ever show their light.

Alone where nothing lives, except your mind.
And memories of your sad life, left so far behind.

All your dreams are now bitter drags of soured milk.
Never again will you touch another soul in sweet and sexy silk.

For now you have entered the land of endless guilt.

Walking alone in the ruins of the life you 'ave build.

The Gun is cold and taste so bitter as you hold it in your hand.
Is it the only way to leave this acursed land?

All of a sudden your body jerks and you are awake.
Giving blessing with every breath you take.

Dedicated to:

All fears, the broken dreams and unsaid screams that fill the shelves of the mind.

Also to Edgar Alan Poe whose blood black ink, stained a so very  very young mind.

The Druid King

Copy Right George King December 19, 2011

Just a year before the end of the world.

A Black Christmas

Seems I am Dreaming of WW3.
Where no one left is Nutron free.

... And the dust of death blows over the Worlds leafless Trees.
Where there is no clear water, food or any Bees

Tears are gone and the living gnaw the bones of the dead.
.No longer can mankind grow its daily bread.

The Rich are under ground safe in their stone bed.
We one the surface now real zombies, a living dead.

Where unspoken we all say, we could have Voted and changed the Way.
This dream does not have to come true, you still may have another Day.

But NOT MANY,!
OPPUCY THE VOTE
Support OWS
Stop endless WARS for Big Banks!!!

The Druid King

Please Share

Life is a Rocking Horse.

You are put in the saddle trembling with fear, the Soul's eyes tight shut.

You grab hold and ride with all your mite, as your soul from heaven is freshly cut.

Up and Down Up and Down you ride with your imagination as you travel in this amazing place.

So beautiful, so strange, so exhilarating and this thing love oh so frightening is often the case.

When at last life's road comes to an end, SummerLand calls to you and your horse, now wore so tried and thin.

You tumble off and open your true souls eyes only to find you are where your started, refreshed and ready to mount again.

The Druid King

Copy right George King December 17, 2011

Drones

Our Drones are falling from the Sky.

Oh fleshless wings of robot Eye.

With each crash the 99% give out a deep sigh.

As our tax dollars keep falling in the foreign sky.

Where its jobs at home we need the heavens to drop.

Not soulless Robots in wasted Wars at millions a pop.

 

The Druid King

Copy write December, 13, 2011 George King

I meet the Devil the other day: Written in Dirty Teabag Brown Ink

I meet the Devil the other day, said he was on his way, to help his favorite politicians Play.

I ask him why he cared so much about who runs things up here Today.

So he tells that when jobs are gone and fear is on, there is a better market for his Dope.

And people will sell both body and soul or go to war for so little when there is no Hope.

 Because I have both Fear and Hate running most that claim to control God's Gate.

But you Druids and your Heathen , Pagan friends are just to hard to Bait.

And then he says with a smile to Damn Bad you P.H.D.s get to Vote.

Dedicated to all that fight evil and try to keep Life's boat Afloat.

 

With their Magick,  unending Voices and their Vote.

The Druid King.

Copyright August 22, 2011

 

The Soul's Alchemy: Written in Golden Blinding Hot Ink.

 

Passion is the Spark, that often lights the Soul's Fires.

As they flare up, the hot  flames engulfing our Desires.

Still we know, the flames of passion can not forever Last.

But it is what we choose to Forge, in this heated consuming Blast.

As we pour the Alchemic melt,  of true soul's gold into our lives hard shaped Mold.

The winds of life's lived adversity's  blow forever cold and with age we grow so Old .

Then comes the trip to SummerLand and this one live's Mold is forever Broken.

Releasing to our eternal Soul another hard earned and learned , Golden Token.

Till centuries later when the Soul's purse has become oh so full, that we can  pay the Goddess's creation Bill.

At last we too now join the Gods and Goddesses in the great  Forever Never with true and complete free Will.

The Druid King

Dedicated to our many and often painful lives and to let all know the Druids true Golden Goal.

Copyright August, 19, 2011 George King

Love's Change: Written in Silver Shimmering Ink.

 

The Sea gives its water to the Sky. The Sky Gives it to the Ground. Does the rain drops know that they may become a great Tree?

 

Do you know what you could become when you touch Me?

 

A frozen Heart of Ice is unchanging, a safe a thing of beauty, for all too See. 

 

But to love it must melt, for hot passion is it's only Key

 

Your heart is frozen, a bright Jewel of sparkling ice. I long to touch it with my fiery desires, but what would become of Thee.

 

You surly would melt in my arms, and when the steam of our passions was all gone, who or what would we Be?

 

We must both give up our self's to love's fiery transformation, that special Alchemy that makes gold from the Sea.

 

Or go  our separate ways, often looking back with a secret tear, never knowing what we gave up to fear, that day, so willingly.

 

The Druid King

 

Dedicated to all that dared to love and lose instead of being so safe but old and sorry.  The Goddess has surely touched your souls.

 

Copyright August,15, 2011 George King

 

 

 

The S.H. Master: Written in Black soft ink.

 

Hi My name is Mr. Bat.

I'm just a little Black Cat.

 

I was born with a really big set of Fangs.

So Mama called me Bat, boy that Hangs.

 

Because I never grew up and am so very very  Small.

I was afraid of everything, even a shadow in the Hall.

 

Then one night, the Goddess taught me the art of S.H. with her magick Ball.

Now I am a proud S.H. Master and  go everywhere with my tail held Tall.

 

So if you want to be a S.H. Master, get some Tuna and give me a Call.

If you pay in Tuna and ask the secret of S.H. really nice, I may teach it All.

 

We will meet outside under the Full Moon and our tails can Twist.

Then I will give you the Goddess kiss and teach you to Super Hiss.

 

Dedicated to Bat the little Black Cat, that knows it always taste better in the other Cat's  bowl.  I think he was the first Tea Bagger.

 

The Druid King

 

Copyright August 9, 2011 George King

The Day The Music Cried: Written in Green and Red ink.

The Day The Music Cried: Written in Green and Red ink.

It was a solemn  day across the world  and even the Moon.

The whole world had come to bury their loved ones in their final Tomb.

Great Nations had millions of coffins that were  filled and ready on that awful Day.

Huge Mountains they would make when covered in, grass. On top at the Moon, the new Wolfs would Bay.  

Many others cursed this plague of death and burned their loved  in mass fires that filled the whole Sky.

But most could not bear to see their loved ones hurt so in Green and Silver  coffins they would said their final Goodby.

With pomp and great ceremony the UN's Premier would lay the final one to Rest.

Satellites sent the pictures world wide and as the world watched, all knew it was for the Best.  

Now the shining golden shovel, flag draped, was handed to a frail widow oh so Proud.

She was the last US President and as she accepted it a great cheer went through the Crowd.

It was The Day The Music Cried!

It was the Day the US Dollar Died!

The Druid King

Copyright August 4, 2011 George King

The Dark Lord and the Red Star written in Midnight Black Ink

The Dark Lord and the Red Star written in Midnight Black Ink

You gather your children is gleaming  armor from sea to shining Sea

To serve The Red Star, oh of them all, you are so proud to Be.

While at home for many, little food, drink or any care there is to See.

For all the realm's coin is spent serving the Red Star, surly justice there must Be.

Now far away on distant shores, your Sons and Daughters dance with with the Dark Lord for a Turn.

Till at last he gives them his sweet kiss, then back flag draped they return in an Urn.

So of the precious fruit from your thighs, that you all so willing you Gave. 

Now with Parade, Pomp and false pride you send to the Grave.

While all along the Red Star, Mars or War said to be his Name.

And the Dark Lord, King of Death, your children plan to Claim.

The Dark Lord and Red Star toast each other in of cups of young blood and drink to the Game.

Laughing at your so pompous and false pride, as really you should be hanging your heads in Shame.

Yes it is true that only our Lady Fate, rolls the Dark Lord's deadly Dice.

But in the game of War it's only your children's blood that must always pay the Price.

The Druid King

Dedicated to  the Young that the Old always send to the, Just and Noble Wars, there by keeping the Dark  Lord and Red Start entertained.  As always Greed  drives these Wars, lead by the Rich but Insane.  Still  take small comfort in the fact that "Death only Hurts the Living."  TDK

Copyright August 2, 2011 George king

None So Brave, written in Red and Blue ink with White tears.

None So Brave,  written in Red and Blue ink with White tears.

There are none so brave as the young who are murdered while trying to make this world a better  Place.

Of the insane murderers and those that support them by their actions or in actions, they have no Case.

Your Gods or Prophets, it is  their work you proclaim to Do.

Hoping to gain rewards in a afterlife, of which you have no Clue.

To all the others that do not think in your sick and twisted Way.

There is you claim a most terrible HELL that will receive them some Day.

To you I say in  sure knowledge and  a immortal truth.

There is this HELL and for you it has a special Booth.

The truth be know, both Heavens and Hells are creations of the hearts Desires.

And all hearts filled Greed and Murder will surely taste of their sick heart's hell Fires.

The  hearts of the young, where filled with love and hope of a better world they would make while Fate rolled her Dice.

The None So Brave, oh pure and innocent young, now rest In SummerLands sweet heavenly fields for those that have paid the price.

Oh from parents, loved ones  and crying strangers alike, dry your tears and rejoice. As their blood and efforts must  serve to make us Strong.

As we pickup, rebuild, making our world the better place,  so that their souls may ReBorn to this better world of which they Long.  

The Druid King

Dedicated to  the victims of Norway's Island Massacre. We know the pain is great as "Death only Hurts the Living."  TDK

Copyright July 28, 2011 George king

The Goddess and Old Joe --- written in Sweet Hot Java Black Ink.

The Goddess and Old Joe  --- written in Sweet  Hot Java Black Ink.

I'm been walking down these old abandon railroad tracks, just feeling kinda Sad

Ben out of work and there's nothing left  but a little beans and rice in my old food  Bag.

But I knows where there's a sweet bubbling brook that I'll soon find on my Way.

My back's still strong and eyes are sharp, I'll find work some other Day.

Old Mama Moon she lights my nights, keeps me company, as we're both wanderers and in one place just cant  Stay.

Tonight when I stop, I'll cook my food it an old tin can and build a good fire to keep life's cold at Bay.

Our shoes may be thin of soul, but we owe no Man and in the woods are free to worship the old old Way.

You'll  be so full tonight my mama Moon and to Goddess,  we can all sing and  Pray.

Oh my! would you look at the old cross roads, some farmers truck has lost a sack of potatoes Today.

Boy it's more than I can use, but Goddess knows we should not waste any food, so I will carry it Away

Well I have reached the bubbling brook and oh surprise, my so good friends are all already Here.

There's brother Truth and sister Charity, cousin Hope and  can that be uncle Faith setting down a keg of Beer.

Oh what a feast there will be tonight as around a great fire  we open completely  our hearts to Share

So tomorrow with father Sun  and no fear, we must start our journeys anew, as we travel in the Goddess's Care. 

So if you see me along life's road yell out, Hi there Brother Joe, and I will know, you are family of the Goddess  and old bother Joe.

And when you sip, you will known, that where there's Joe, soon Faith, Hope, Charity and Truth are sure to Show.

The Druid King

Dedicated to the  simple little bean that with the Goddess help gets us all through each day.

Copyright July 26, 2011 George king

The SENIOR SENOR  --- Written in Moon Shadow Pale Grey Ink.

The Senior Senor, even late of night wears the broad rimmed Hat

And walks whenever he can, for gas is expensive, even to the richest Cat

Some say he is  Bruja, others laugh  and say, no he is made  of an Oak

But none ever say it to his face,  for they dare not make such a Joke

To him they come when family sick as none have money for the Doctor's Bill

They beg of of him, oh please the Magick  cure, the one that takes no Pill

If true of heart, kind of Mule and  upon  their knees they Fall

He will cast, as he knows the  Magick's mind and how to weave its healing Spell

Many have said to all,  he must this Magick freely teach, or else be damned to Hell

He has learned this Magick from  blood and tears and owes none a drink from its Well

There are very few that really can and even less that tend to give, so judge not, how harsh he Be.

The rich in this life the rules have set , the most important being:   Nothing's  Really Free

The Senor often walks the roads late of night, a shadowed Soul  with ghosts from battles old and lands so far Away

And if you meet him some  Moonless night, please be quick of passage sure to give , for this Magick you, too, may need some Day

The Druid King

Dedicated to all the Solitary Psychic Readers and Healers everywhere, that burn some much of their own Soul energy helping so many others,  who's pale hollow words of thanks quickly blow away like morning mist in the rising Sun.  Remember your Psychic Power is like your special blood so very rare, precious and not a never ending well.

Copyright July 24, 2011 by George King

Please also support our Blog's sponsors by clicking on one of their ads and giving it a look. Their pennies help feed the poor cat and its old human Senior! 

Flashbacks Boom Boom Boom: written in Dried Blood Black Ink.

Flashbacks Boom Boom Boom: written in Dried Blood Black Ink.

Boom Boom Boom        Shit, Oh hell what a Night.

Boom Boom Boom        Closer now, wonder If we'll live to see the Light.

Boom Boom Boom       Oh my God Oh my God we're gonna Die!
Boom Boom Boom       Dam you stop it Johnny, Marines don't Cry.

Boom Boom Boom      Dam it to hell we stand and Fight.

Boom Boom Boom     Oh Fucking Shit this is a dying Night.

Boom Boom Boom     Oh God Oh God the PAIN help I'm Hit!

Boom Boom Boom     Shit Dam it Johnny you're covered in Blood were's my Kit!

Boom boom boom       Dam it won't that fucking sound never go Away.

Boom boom boom      Oh it's you Hi Johnny how are we doing Today?

Boom boom boom     Oh God is it really you, shit it hurts hurts Man!
Boom boom boom     Here Johnny your free now, just take my Hand.

Boom boom boom     Oh Oh what the hell the pain the pain it's it's gone, gone Away.
Boom boom boom    Oh God sweet Jesus Sir Sir I'm ready to fight Today!

Boom boom boom    At ease Johnny there is no more fighting left to be Done.

Bomb bomb bomb    Oh Oh you really really mean we finally Won.

Boom boom boom    Hell man where am I, shit why why are you so Old.
Boom boom boom    Dam its so bright here, shit why am I  so fucking Cold.

Boom boom boom    boom boom boom ,the sound war slowly fads Away.

                                   Sit down with me Johnny I have quite the tale to tell Today.

It was so many years ago that mortar fell, killing most of you that awful Night.

Ripped your body bad. My God you were, O such a horrible Sight.

You'll died so quick I could but watch as the blood flowed that Day.

Funny you say now I am so old, for me it just tore my Soul Away!

I live the living dead of all of us that from wars were able to walk Away.

It's been years, and your are Dead, in SummerLand uh call it Heaven lets Say.

Your wounds were great, they came to late, to take your soul that Day.

So here you rested and was rebuild except your pain would not go Away.

That's where my Blessing and my Curse are brought here and put into Play.

Without a Soul I travel light, the time was right so holding your hand I drew all the pain Away.

Johnny you are well and whole again, they tell me you will soon reborn, this time with a Twin.

Now I must leave sweet SummerLand, as still I breath, till I am needed and Flashbacks call me Home again.

Echo's of a long lost war soon return again, boom boom boom

The Druid King

Dedicated to All the young men, women and victims of all the Wars that gave so much, for so little and were forgotten so soon.

Copywrite July 16, 2011  George King

P.S. Be a Lover or a Friend and click on one of the Blogs ads please! I am out of work and can use the pennies it generates!

You can often find me at www.facebook.com/cosmicsalamander, www.cosmicsalamder.com or our Physical Center The Cosmic Salamander, 5631 NW 77ct, Coconut Creek, Florida, 33073, USA 954-698-6926 Fax 954-6989-706 Both Janice and I are available for Psychic reading, other Magick works, writing assignments and even creating new inventions or sharing some of our for you or your company to patent and sell.

Blog Roll
http://thedruidking.blogspot.comI post some of my views and research in the Pagus World
http://sourpearls.blogspot.com I post my Poems other with a small glimpse of SummerLand and the Pagus World from a Druid's point of view.
http://returntosummerland.blogspot.com Obituaries for anyone's loved pets, just e-mail me it and I will post it.
http://inventorsangels.blogspot.com, Will soon be putting up projects that I need funding for that should both help the World and make profets for the investors!
http://projectfreetap.blogspot.com/2011/07/introduction-to-project-free-tap.html
Free Water for everyone that on the street and needs a drink, Project free Tap, please share and help


Here are some of Janice-Scott-Readers blogs too.
http://janicescottreeder.blogspot.com/The Old Druid's Spot
Daily Forecasts, Faery Finder and Magickal Things.
http://holomultiverses.blogspot.com/Janice's Holomultiverses What the holomultiverses are. I have been able to astral project since birth and some times, I project involuntarily to other worlds. Some are variations of this world. Some are completely alien worlds. This blog is an account of some of the worlds I have found myself in and logged their descriptions.

Love Slave: Written in Brown Mackerel Tabby ink.

Love Slave: Written in Brown Mackerel Tabby ink.

As I went to fix the coffee peculator, a little demon did Appear.

She looked up at me with sweet and begging eyes so Clear.

So I said perhaps I will fix you something Later.

My sweet little round tailed Alligator.

And she replied, but I'm so hungry Now.

You mean old Crocodile.

Now I have a heart of Stone.

But it melted like a buttered Scone.

The little mavin was so Brave.

And in chains of love I her Slave.

The Druid King

Dedicated to Polie a stray brown mackerel tabby, who was so afraid and this year has become so brave.

Copwrite July 14, 2011. George King

Childhood: written in Blood Red Ink

If you could have but one dream and that dream be your Life.

Would you take it or would you cut it with a Knife.

Oh Rabbit White Rabbit, why do you Run.

Life's short so short to little time for us in the Sun.

Come Rabbit lets play, please play before they bring the Gun.

Little Rabbit lets hope, please hope, oh why is there None

Its firing I am waking your dying little Rabbit, melting with the Moon.

Oh Rabbit my little Rabbit why was it all so Soon.

Sweet pain, sweet sorrow, love's better to the Insane.

But Rabbit little Rabbit, I was Able and you were my Cain

The Druid King

 copyright June 30,2011   George King

If I could cry: Written in invisible yellow ink.

If I could cry just a little every day, perhaps with each drop my fear and hatred would wash Away.

If I could cry just a little every day, when I see others hurt, perhaps I would stop to wipe my eyes instead of just looking the other Way.

If I could cry just a little every day, maybe someone would as me why I care, choked up, I'd smile and brush my Hair.

If I could cry just a little every day, perhaps with clear eyes the world I could see in a better Way.

If I could cry just a little every day, perhaps I'd be the human you think I should Be.

If I could cry just a little every day, perhaps the Goddess would whisper good things my Way.

If I could cry just a little every day, I would see the pain I cause along my Way.

If I could cry just a little every day, but I can't and with eyes of the dead I walk Away.

The Druid King

Copywriter July 06, 2011 George King

Flower of Faith : written in green ink.

Flower of Faith : written in green ink.

We must bend like a reed when the wind of curiosity or the storm of fear and hate blow across the flower of our faith.

Soon it will pass and the Sunshine and beauty of our faith will lead nature's spirts of love to the nectar our flower has bloomed into.

From this flower the seeds of truth will fall and if we have cared for soil of our lives another generation may arise to carry on our beauty, service and testament to our Mother Nature and Father Sun whom we respect and serve.

That our Lady Lunar may smile on Earth's children for generations to come, beyond count until the sands of time run out.

The Druid King.

Copyright 07/03/2011 George King