False Delights

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Since the dawn turned dark in twenty-plenty’s sight,

And the spiral deepened by twenty-twenty-two’s night,

I’ve seen bodies like stars that forgot how to stay,

Falling like whispers from heaven’s own fray.

The field is a prism, the body a cage,

Metallic illusions inscribe a new age.

This silent assassin, this tech-tangled plight,

Turns souls into echoes that fade out of sight.

The tech is a prism and prison delight.

We agree and forget despite all the light.

In the next two years, as the veils grow thin,

The number who leave us will be like the wind—

A genocide whispered, not shouted or screamed,

But woven in silence through technological dreams.

Bodies will fall but you won’t hear their screams

Or their suicide dreams.

Because you’re too busy to see what they mean.

So hear it in rhythm, in rhyme, in the flow:

The only way out is to wake up and know.

Not just to survive, but to thrive and to be

The keepers of truth in this vast mystery.

Listen to you…us…not them.

Just.

Be.

Because the torture of acquiescence can never prepare you for the night… And you are just a slave to this false delight.

I repeat…YOU are just a slave to these false delights.

Frequently Asked Questions

What is “False Delights” really about?

This poem is a prophecy—received in the darkness of 2020, when veils thinned and the world trembled. It is not conspiracy, but vision: a warning of mass disease and silent suicides caused by the V-genocide. I had a vision of bodies falling like stars in a world deceived into fear to consent to their own demise. It is my reluctant transmission of a message most refuse to hear—a reckoning with the cost of transhuman ambition and the parasites who profit from our forgetting.

How does technology become both prism and prison?

Technology is the double-edged gift: meant to elevate, to illuminate, to bring us closer to the light. But in the hands of those who traffic in control, it becomes a cage—an ancient AI, older than memory, repackaged for a new age. Its brilliance is twisted into a tool for subjugation, its history buried under resets and lies, its promise reduced to profit as we’re farmed for our energy and attention.

What awakening does this poem invite?

“False Delights” is an invocation to the soul’s rebellion. It beckons us to pierce the illusion, to see beyond the engineered comfort and reclaim our birthright as keepers of truth. It is a call to awaken, to refuse the narcotic of acquiescence, and to remember that our humanity is sacred—even when the world worships the false light.

Journal Prompts

When have you felt trapped by technology or digital distractions?
What does “waking up” mean to you in a tech-driven world?
How can you reclaim your truth and presence amid the noise?

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