A Poem: Alien Angels

"Alien Angels"

(A raw and unedited poem (yikes!) written while watching The History Channel’s show called “Ancient Aliens” (yikes, again!!))

Figures of grey

Angels at night

I want to believe

I want to have sight

Fallen from heaven

In the days of Noah

Seducers of women

Father’s of Borah

Master’s of deception

Aliens of today

Ghosts on TV

Hunted and astray

Figures of grey

Something else I believe

Spirits of old

Waiting to be relieved

I desire to see

I yearn to know

Aliens on earth

Spirits are our foe

Shadows we dismiss

They dabble their fingers

We aren’t alone

God’s fallen angels still lingers

They aren’t what we think

They let us see what we know

They rely on our mind

Our imaginations they grow

Spirits are grey

Our third eye is shut

Yeshua said we will be asleep

When the Maker makes the cut

In ancient writings

Hidden by earthly rulers

Edited to be sugar coated and accepted

The universes secrets sealed by foolers

In the last days

Knowledge will increase

Ghost Hunters they call them

The universes fallen beings are released

The grey ones are playing

Hoping we think

They are from another

When we catch a glimpse when we blink

How to end this realization

The words are endless

I could write forever

I know in my soul that time isn’t bend-less

The shadows are spirits

The angels are really grey

God sees it all

They are one in the same

Aliens we say

We aren’t alone

Angels don’t have wings

Medieval paintings do not condone

I am trying to make the point

I am trying to paint this picture

There is so much to it

There is more in the mixture

So many names we give

So many ways to see

Aliens they are not

Angels with wings they cannot be

Tortured souls they hold

Our bodies are a shell

We have divine connections

The fallen ones are waiting for hell

The earth is God’s foot stool

The heaven’s His seat

The earths ground is a play ground

For the fallen one’s feet

We are suppose to be careful

We are to heed a warning

So we aren’t to be deceived

When the knowledge is pouring

Meditate everyday

Clear your third eye

Breathe deeply in silence

So you may see where they lie

When you see them

And they don’t say to not be afraid

Hold your head high

Remember they hide how they were made

Figures of grey

Angels of night

They are the same

They aren’t beings of light

Aliens we call them

Ghosts we say

However they got here

They weren’t suppose to stay

This poem is never ending

Just like this idea

Mist, aliens, and grey ones

Or angels appear