The Warrior Monk Collaborations

Cybernetic Ty Belec Reads... God is still great

Je suis le bouffon du mal

To politicians who come in all shapes and sizes
I serve notice to you no matter your cheap ass disguises
I am the evil jester
Speaker of all that is unsaid
I reside in the heart of the clown
That tries to get inside your head
I see you point and stare
With pretend debonair
Whilst your laughter is reflected upon my back
Insincere
Insecure
Small minded
Pointing
But I am the fool
Tutored to withstand such mock adulation
Whilst entertaining with mental funambules
Your hands wringing
Clap clap clapping
The truth of the matter
I can remove my grotesque disguise
Remove my gaze from your soulless eyes
And turn my ears from your sickened jibes
Because I deal in truths
And the problem with your basic ass kissers
Who would like to arise in my disguise
They are victims of your pathetic cries
Poor bovine minions with cow like eyes
They continue to drink from an illusion of trust
Offering hero worship
That you prey upon with narcistic lust
Too humble to speak
But speak you must
Because you feed off the weak
An egotistical lust
So it is left to my evil jester
To speak for the just
He kisses nobody's ass
And is immune to your touch
Because if his cry frees one mind from under your wings
My evil Jester will be right to have spoken unspeakable things

To Lauren Delp, Thank you for giving me the inspiration to don the mask xx


Definition: Politician
One who seeks personal or partisan gain, often by scheming and maneuvering.

Definition: funambules
French reference to an athlete who performs acts requiring skill and agility and coordination. Historically used in reference to a clown.

Fate Heralds a Queen

Fate Heralds a Queen Born of

Inspiration from a Monastic Dream

We never recognise the hand that guides us

Until we look back upon life’s seemingly errant course

For us

Life is a crisscross of events

That determined we should find one another

As a constellation that heralds great things in the midnight sky

Our meeting was long foretold

A portent of visions waiting to unfold

Now in this very moment

We are strangers lost in a void

Bearing a love that is not contingent upon latent desires of the flesh

Bound together in a passionate dance

To a song that resonates in tune with the sound of creation

We are both yin and yang

Alpha and omega

Taking excitation from the universe that guides us

Awaiting every experience

To reveal once again what is locked inside our souls

As two perspectives return to the source

Our arrival will see great energies flow

So that the beauty in the world will never quite shine the same again


A reply to the poem; Monastic Dreams, by Ariel Moonfire.
Thank you for stirring my soul today Teflon, you remain my beautiful friend x

Pick a Card, Any Card...

Pick a Card, Any Card... Your card

will be the Queen of Hearts

I am forever amazed at how swiftly I can be accused of political naivety when I show disdain for our so-called system of democracy. The main defense of the charge which many are quick to remind me of is that our forbears died to protect and uphold my way of life. Furthermore, without this way of life my public voice would be stifled.

The irony of this accusation is completely lost on my accusers who are howling at me with such visceral displeasure. Think for just a moment. Had the other side, in any of the mentioned conflicts, returned home victorious, would the same view I hold be an affront to their forbears. I mean, had Hitler won the second world war, any claim that genocide was wrong should be an affront to the men and women who sacrificed their lives for the Fuhrer’s perceived way of life, should it not? Therefore, to be logically consistent, we derive from the argument of my detractors that only the deaths suffered by a conquering army should determine the veracity of the beliefs behind conflict?

I won’t be concerning myself with the huge question of justification for war here. Instead I will focus my curiosity on whether or not those who would ask others to die so cheaply have ever thought about whom, apart from their families, they are asking me to die for.

Following the end of the English Civil War in 1649, the notion of absolute power and the divine right of kings was replaced by a parliamentarian system of governance. The power of the people had spoken, or had it?

For those who argue across the red and blue political divide of labour and conservative loyalties in the United Kingdom, I wonder how it is, that it has never concerned that the leading political icons in recent years are members of the same family, that is Tony Blair and Margaret Thatcher. In point of fact if you further study the members of The House of Lords, or “House of Lords Spiritual and Lords Temporal” to be correct, together with the Parliament, whose members we allegedly vote for, how there is likewise no concern about the network of family ties that exist there too. For me this suggests that the voice of the people still remains in the mouths of a select few.

The life blood of Britain’s many young servicemen and women has been spilled on many foreign shores for reasons that remain unclear today. Contrast this in recent times with the double standards and two faced decisions given in terms of justification for war, made famous by the illusory search for Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. When you consider other conflicts in history it would seem that our children die when a select band of families fall out about their family jewels. Thus, the myth of dying for Queen and country is gradually being laid bare for the illusion it is, as increasingly more information comes into the public domain.

When you research the family trees of politicians that you think you have a “choice” of electing, you might conclude that blood might not be thicker than water. However, when these representatives shake up the system of governance and claim it an act for the people and by the people, you might want to check the credentials of the “kind” of people such acts are designed to benefit. Then you can decide which wars you might want to die in.

In the meantime let me share two thoughts with you;

The verb Parler is the French translation of the English verb “to speak”. Mentir is the French translation of the English verb “to lie”. These words come together in English to form the word “parliament”, thus “Houses of Parliament” translates literally, as “houses where lies are spoken”. The second thought is more a question. When the Royalists were defeated and the power of the monarchy transferred to parliament, where did all of the monarchy and lords go?

Parliament is one of the greatest cons in England, which is why the Lords go there, to maintain the lie that the people have a voice, whilst our children continue to die for lies.

In the end, though the pack was shuffled, it still contained a jack, or a queen, or even a king. The only way to ensure a fair hand is dealt is to mark the cards, or show everyone's hands at the start of the game. But so long as the house is allowed to play with a loaded deck it is not gambling. So, in that case I will continue to find my games of chance elsewhere...

Battlecry from the blog

In whom do you trust?

A political comment to the citizens of the nation

A Midwinter's Dream

A muse inspires the heart of The Warrior Monk. Hopefully a muse not simply passing through...

Battlecry from the Blog

A political comment on the leaders of the nation