Monday, June 12, 2017


Deep Sleep with Nuclear Power,
Beginning of the end,
Nuclear energy our death,
Slowly invading all living things,
Generations of mutating all life.

The cancers and the pain,
Children better not to be born,
Survivors cursing that they do livell
With bodies torn by radiation.

Future generations
Prepare for the end that we made.
We cursed the future of our planet
With our presence and our arrogance.

Cheers to one and all
For our greed and our gall,
This means has justified our ends.
Sionora from Fukishama,
Sleep soundly all women and men.


I'll tell you this story
About a nation of crazies.
People driving or walking head dow
Eyes gawking at screens, fingers texting.

Oblivion unseen,
With head down, dangers all around,
Mind buried in the desert of sand,
Unthinking and dried up of knowledge.

Sleep, sleep on dumb human,
The dreams are in the fog of war,
Reality a blanket of lies
That cover your head, you sleep soundly.

The sky above of chemtrails
And violent surrounding wars,
The streets are overflowing with drugs,
TV news loaded with hate and fear,

Children forced on vaccines,
Everyone told get those flu shots.
We live our lives in microwave webs,
Unseen penetrating mind and heart.

While the rich get richer,
Their goons follow marching orders
And recruit the employees of death,
Those that are complicit, even your brother.

                                     Stephen P. Coyle       6/12/2017,    11;17 pm

Search u-tube on following subjects,

all wars are bankers wars
century of enslavement--the federal reserve
kennedy and 9-11
Corbett report/federal reserve
electronic injection of money
fractional reserve banking
slavery of the people---federal reserve notes
nuclear energy dangers to all life
depleted uranium weapons use are war crimes
toxic medications===vaccines and flu shots
cell towers, Wi-Fi routers, tablets and cell phones
are altering brain functions...early dementia, etc.
guy McPherson...end of life on earth, very soon.

The how and why of terrorism in our world


Terrorist is just a word, one I wish I never heard
when it's used to vilify without the need to question why.
Only fools would swift condemn that which has not befallen them
until you know what lies behind the actions of a tormented mind.
Thank your God for sparing you from the suffering others have lived through.
Where are the cries for justice, for Arabs driven from their lands?
Blame the victim, turn the cheek, praise the bully, kick the week!
Mock the man who truth does speak.
Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy, greed, corruption, torture, lies!
Illegal invasions, sly persuasions, annihilation, massacred nations.
Keep on going, keep on running, karma's coming!
Money talks, truth walks, oil spills, greed kills,
Tide is turning, London's burning, water's rising, bombs will fall and blood will flow
through streets everywhere until corrupt leaders go, brutal rotten, to the core.
A few have corrupted many more, the barrel is rotten with so many more.
The day has come to even the score.
Show me the man who will not fight, to save his child, his home his right!
You can tell him what you like, your not in his sorry plight.
Cowards stay and martyrs go, When family, friends and neighbors
are wounded or dead this, I know. They speak their truth, they stand their ground,
fight from their corner.
When all around, point the finger, purse their lips, pin the label, "TERRORIST"!
Just a word, but one that sticks, even when the cap don't fit
but for the grace of God go I, remember that before you cry,
False accusation, names of shame, at those not to blame.
Their crime, refused to play the game, of meek acceptance, dumbing down,
Your life, your choice: Warrior / Clown.

September 1st, 2011 by Gilad Altman    placed here by Stephen P. Coyle 6-12-2017

Saturday, July 18, 2015


Stephen P. Coyle written on 04-25-2013  ....revised- 07-18-2015

 The path ahead goes on,
 May merge or separate,
 Be wide, narrow or straight
 Or curve and go up or down.

With end not in sight,
We can choose, go on alone
Or decide to turn around.
Is that way wrong if the other be right?

Some paths merge together,
Become one for a time
And others onward forever.
So many curves and hills to climb!

Family, friends and strangers,
The animals too which we have befriended
Make this world so beautifully grander.
With companions we are protected and defended.

The support to each other,
The love we give and ourselves we surrender,
Our spirit, mind, heart becomes as one
And we travel onward together

We follow the path, try not to part
From start, and hope it not end.
Our thoughts, our spiritual lives on guard,
Our past, our present, to future are sent

Companions befriended on paths well traveled,
Forever together our spirits live without end.


Monday, August 4, 2014

House Fire, MArch 1, 2014

Monday, July 28, 2014

Newburgh Nuclears vs Extra Inning Clippers

A poetic rendition of a local baseball game at Delano Hitch Stadium, Newburgh, New York 7/21/14
CBL League,...Collegiate Baseball league started in 1994 for ages 16 to 35

    How baseball imitates life in both it's good and bad aspects:

Wood bat baseball today
Of Hudson Valley CBL
Puffy white clouds floating by 
Gentle breeze and clean air as well

Friendly taunting between players is done,
The players smiling ear to ear.
This game is of plain old fun
With fans and players of good cheer.

For all the hours they are here
Their throwing, catching, hitting and running
Is time well spent with good friends
With some plays they do make so stunning.

Then near the end a tie score,
The game becomes more than a game.
Arguments, complaints of balls and strikes,
Egoes and tempers flare. Are umpires to blame?

Bats gloves and bats are thrown.
Back and forth the argument goes, 
Happy smiles and friendships gone,
Anger and egoes expand and grows.

One poor example of baseball and the human race gone crazy.

When Johnny Came Marching Hone

To see the world in a grain of sand
And heaven in a wild flower.
 To hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour,

We are led to believe a lie
When we see with not through the eye
Which was born in a night to die in a night
While the soul slept in beams of light.

                             William Blake

Many will look with their eyes and not see.
Many will listen with their ears and not hear.
Many will be told the truth and not believe.

Many will see, hear and know the truth
And bury their head in the sand
When their comfort zone is threatened.

Their courage to confront evil
Is overcome by personal satisfaction
Of greed, wealth and power over others.

                                Anonymous, unknown author
                                     modified and added
                                                to by
                                      Stephen P. Coyle

"Fear not the Path of Truth
 For the Lack of People Walking on It."    <<<   SEARCH by using this phrase
Documentary about Fallujah, Iraq,                                        with Fallujah
by a Veteran who fought there.


Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq and all the violent conflicts past present and to come!

He got off the plane, looked at no-one,
Walked down the tarmac
To the direction of no-where,
Followed the sun as it was setting,

Glad to be done with all the blood letting.

There were no banners
For the proud and the few,
Just workers in airports
Doing what they do.

Fuel up the planes, unload the bags
Along with the coffins
All covered with flags
When Johnny comes marching home

When Johnny comes marching home

The town he was from
Was a deathly place
So he looked for a job
Somewhere off base

In the city of pawn shops, hotels and bars,
Gas stations, strip clubs, highways and cars,
Away from the memories
Of blood, bullets and bombs.

He went to a dive, ordered a beer,
Turn up the music, turn it up loud
So it's all that I hear,
Drown out the screams and all of the fear.

He tried to rewind, turn back the years,
And stop the explosions between his ears,
To keep his eyes from filling with tears
About orders he followed and not thinking to care,

That such orders are illegal illegal war.

When Johnny Came Marching Home, When Johnny Came Marching Home

The jobs were all taken, beer was not cheep,
Was trained as a soldier to shoot and kill,
Not to sweep any old floor
Or work as a laborer in valley
Or farm the side of a hill.

Besides there was nowhere, no way to sleep.
Still the screams and the guns
Would wake him at night.
He was always on edge
And ready to fight.

When he closed his eyes
He would just see the face
Of the woman he killed
In some far away place.
 Over and over the whites of her eyes
 And now, her terrible, terrible, terrible cries.

When Johnny Came Marching Home, When Johnny Came Marching Home.

Just a short time, health fell apart,
Aches in the joints and thumps in the heart.
The doctors just told him
It's all in your head

The tools of the soldiers trade
The bullets are made
Lethal to the enemy
But safest of all to you they say.

Depleted uranium
Flying through the air
Through, flesh, metal and rock,
Streaks of flames, fire and brimstone.

Hitting the enemy and their weapons of war
It destroys, disentigrates, contaminates
To fine particles of uranium dust it becomes,
Spreading, rising, soaring

And eventually falling everywhere,
Lifted by storms and blowing in the wind
Falling with both warm and cool breezes,
In the rains and the snows of the seasons

Soon to come home to roost
in body, clothing and boots.

But Johnny couldn't stop drinkin
Or get out of bed,
And with no place to go
But the wrong way,
It was a shock to his ears
When he heard himself say,

Over and over to anyone within range.
"Mister can you spare some loose change
Or even a small tablet of perkoset or oxycodene,
 Just so I can sleep without so much pain.

When Johnny Came Marching Home,  When Johnny Came Marching Home
                    WHEN JOHNNY CAME MARCHING HOME  
                                                                                               Anonymous author,

                                                                                         Many changes by,
                                                                                         Stephen P. Coyle