Archive for February, 2014

Conversing with spirits

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2014 by thecockneybard

Conversing with spirits what I have learnt

20 years ago I stumbled upon an ability I had to converse with spirits. During that time I have learnt much. Here are my observations.

1) Works of poetry, philosophy, conversational text, the great & the banal are obtainable. Future predictions can and do come true. Things you couldn’t possibly have known previously are often revealed. That the sixth sense is very real and that the after life in some form truly exists.

2) The ability must be handled with great care as what you learn through experience is that not all the information you receive is right, accurate or in your or another’s best interests. The spirits can be great deceivers and lead you to believe they are who they are not. It can be detrimental, even destructive. The ability to decipher the wheat from the chaff is an immense skill that so very few obtain. Knowing what is from your own thought process and that which is from the extraneous source is at times incredibly difficult to ascertain.

3) Many famous artists, poets, writers, philosophers and musicians have experienced conversing with spirits and obtained their acclaimed work in this manner. Fear of ridicule has prevented others who have claimed the works as their own from revealing the true source of their greatness.

4) The ability to heal and converse with spirits is an innate ability we all as human beings have.

`You can call spirits from the vasty deep why, so can I, or so can any man, but will they come when you do call them?’ – William Shakespeare

 

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Posted in Uncategorized on February 24, 2014 by thecockneybard

I am in many respects trying to achieve the impossible, but in my life I have always found the impossible a greater challenge than the distinctly possible – The Cockney Bard

Sleep like death

Posted in Uncategorized on February 24, 2014 by thecockneybard

Wipe not your tears when cold death knocks, or fear the loss of love once knew. Lay not the rose to wither on the grave, or watch the morning dew. Hear not the birds come early morn, or count the hours but slow away. Hurt not inside for those that died, and grieve not to dismay. Time, life’s short passage must there pass, like the memory of the looking glass, where pained expression seeks no more. Rest your sweet and gentle head and off to sleep like death. – G Allen

Beauty

Posted in Uncategorized on February 24, 2014 by thecockneybard

Beauty never fades, nor does the sun extinguish its fire. For what is beauty? If you say I know, you’d be a liar. Beauty to one is not to another. To a mirror it is all things and nothing. Beauty is a perfection, unblemished and undefined. It is a pleasure unrestrained to the eye. To one beauty can be a rose in full bloom and to another the seed in the palm of his hand. In the darkness beauty is but a moment in the mind, and in the light, it is a perception of one’s own judgement. Beauty you are an illusion, a deception, a fool’s gold. All things to all men. In revealing her I too am condemned to the fickle folly of describing beauty! – G Allen

I and Me

Posted in Uncategorized on February 24, 2014 by thecockneybard

I and me, thus a twinning of incoherent harmony. Imbalanced but defined, ready and sublime I and me. ’Twas nay a memory, a figure of eloquence seen, but I and me, a perfection of mind. ‘Tis relevant I can see a description of I and me, as being a symphony of sweet music thus played. You see I and me are mad, mad and sad but happy and glad. ‘Tis I and me and my perfection of mind. – Gary Allen

John Keats

Posted in Uncategorized on February 22, 2014 by thecockneybard

thecockneybard

John_Keats_by_William_Hilton How when someone speaks of your name a flawless image does spring to mind. And yet you Keats shunned by a world for your dulcet tones, can move the soul in ways few can ever do. Your words taken from a mind so pure, it dignifies indifference. In you Keats is that nightingale which sings its sweet melody. I too can feel in you the pain, the agony of a poet lost. Neither words, nor actions can fall foul of the greatness bestowed upon you, but among others who deem you worthless, only death could bring you respect among peers. Laid to rest so young and yet so wise. It is in tribute I write my words to a fellow Cockney poet and raise a glass to Mr Keats.

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The Great Mystery revealed

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2014 by thecockneybard

The Great Mystery revealed

If you can find the flaw then find it and if not you have discovered Truth!