Tag: audio

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** The Fall And FALL Of GB **

This song/poem has that unmistakable pub-rant energy about it—full of conviction, colourful metaphors, and enough strong opinions to keep three generations arguing until closing time. And to be fair, British political satire has always thrived on exactly that style—from the old music halls to newspaper cartoonists to late-night comedians. There’s a long tradition of taking a serious grievance and wrapping it in wit, rhyme, and a bit of cheek.

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

Remember the Piper on the hill,
Playing tunes with iron will,
Promising dreams of golden light,
While shadows gathered in the night.

He sang of progress, bold and grand,
A brighter future for the land,
Yet many claimed the price too high,
As old traditions passed them by.

The roads were opened far and wide,
New currents swept the nation’s tide,
The wires hummed through every town,
As barriers slowly tumbled down.

The gamblers found a glowing screen,
The merchants chased the endless green,
The fortune wheel spun day and night,
Beneath the pale electric light.

The borders stretched, the gates swung free,
A changing shore beside the sea,
Some cheered the dawn of something new,
While others feared what might ensue.

The coffers filled with growing gold,
Or so the stories often told,
And every pound that found its way,
Helped keep the message on display.

The banners waved, the slogans flew,
The faithful praised the vision too,
The spin machines turned round and round,
With polished words and polished sound.

The ‘old clubs’ met in candle glow,
Discussing how the world should go,
The thinkers mapped tomorrow’s plan,
And drew new futures for the clan.

Yet critics watched with troubled eyes,
Beneath the ever-changing skies,
They mourned the things they knew were lost,
And counted up the hidden cost.

They spoke of freedom, law, and pride,
Of mighty rivers running wide,
Of lessons handed through the years,
And strengthened by both sweat and tears.

“Remember well,” the voices cry,
“Ask not the what! – but ask the why!,”
For every age will write its page,
And every dream may set the stage.

So history walks its winding way,
Through praise and blame from day to day,
And every Piper, soon or late,
Must answer to the hands of fate.

Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

Remember! ‘The Blair Warrior’ was the ‘Pied-Piper’ who led and enabled the open road for; ‘Online Porn’ … ‘Online Gambling’ … And … ‘Unlimited Immigration’ in Great Britain in the late nineties – just for starters – All for Money – That the Socialist Cause could spend More & More on it’s OWN ‘Promotion-Spin-Machine’ … AKA; Momentum! – Remember Momentum? Best Buddies with ‘The Fabian Society’ who in turn are Blair Warrior’s Mentors! .. Sounds like a good Fiction Novel EH?? … Such a shame it’s a ‘Non-Fiction-Handbook’ on HOW to bring down the Nation that GAVE the World ‘Civilization’ and ‘Freedom’ as well as ‘Law & Order’ etc; etc; … NOW! Sadly all evaporated at the hands of the Communist ‘Socialism’ – AKA: “The Politics Of SPITE!” ….

Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You … Pete

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**Disclosure Day – Or PSYOP Day**

 

Has Steven Spielberg been used – yet again, as a conduit for a ‘Disclosure Day’ that has nothing to do with alien life, attacks, or interference, but everything to do with diverting our eyes and minds towards the unimaginable, while the levers of power put final plans in place to imprison the whole population of the world inside ‘the global village’ where ‘No1’ makes every decision for us

 

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

We were promised disclosure, the truth brought into sight,
Instead we’re fed strange fragments in the dead of every night.

Files Presidents can’t open, sealed beyond their hands,
Hidden by ‘The Few’ who rule from shadowed lands.

Bodies from recovered craft, they whisper, stored away,
Evidence of other worlds they swear will never see the day.

Human hybrids, secret schemes, forbidden lines crossed through,
Questions multiply each hour, while answers stray from view.

Egg-shaped objects hanging still, where time itself runs slow,
Minutes stretching into hours, where no natural laws can go.

Witnesses come forward, yet the gatekeepers remain,
Pouring doubt on every voice, while tightening every chain.

A silent war is raging far behind the public screen,
Between those seeking daylight and the powers in-between.

Is it truth or is it theatre, the grandest psyop spun?
A labyrinth of lies designed to blind us, one by one.

Extra-terrestrial traces, inter-dimensional signs,
Pieces of a greater picture hidden deep between the lines.

Every thread they fear we’ll pull, every file they’ll defend,
Points toward a secret they will carry to the end.

And what of all the movies that conditioned us for years?
Planting seeds within our minds and watering our fears.

Was Spielberg just a messenger, a conduit once more,
Preparing us to face a truth – unlike the tales before?

Not invasion from the heavens, not attacks from distant stars,
But prison walls constructed – through technology and scars.

While all eyes watch the spectacle and chase the latest clue,
The architects of power build a world entirely new.

A global village rising where dissent is swept aside,
Where every thought is monitored and nowhere left to hide.

One hand upon the levers, one voice above the rest,
Deciding who may prosper – and determining the blessed.

Who shall live and who shall serve, who’ll vanish from the page,
Reduced to bio-machines inside a gilded cage.

Neither fully dead nor living, bound from birth until the grave,
Conditioned into servitude and taught they should behave.

For the elite’s perverted needs, and their ever-growing throne,
While billions trade their freedom for a safety not their own.

So cut through all the noise before the final curtain falls,
Before the locks are fastened tight upon invisible walls.

Because the truth they’re hiding isn’t only in the sky,
It’s who controls tomorrow — and the reason why.

 

Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

 

We were promised disclosure.

What we’re getting instead is something a lot stranger.

We need to cut through the noise — because what is laid out for our future is hard to stop thinking about.

Files the President himself reportedly can’t access. About breeding human hybrids from alien species/Non-human bodies found in recovered UFO craft.

The Egg-shaped objects and reports of time behaving differently around them.

And a quiet war between the people pushing for disclosure and the people determined to keep the lid on it.

Is this real, or is it the most elaborate PSYOP we’ve ever been kettled into?

The extra-terrestrial, inter-dimensional happenings and physical evidence – everything those hiding the real files do not want pieced together.

Has Spielberg been used yet again, as a conduit for a ‘Disclosure Day’ that has nothing to do with alien life, attacks, or interference, but everything to do with diverting our eyes and minds towards the unimaginable, while the levers of power put final plans in place to imprison the whole population of the world inside ‘the global village’ where ‘No1’ makes every decision for us, including whether We live, Die or Serve as a bio-mechanical-machine, neither Alive nor Dead as We know it, but slaving from birth-to-death as ‘playthings’ for the perverted Elite of ‘The New World Order’ – As He has done through his whole career?

Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You … Pete …

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The Final *Death-Throes* Of A Drowning GB

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Please Press Play Above And Follow Along With The Poem Below.

 

In eighty-two the island roared and would not bow or bend,
A lion hearted nation stood and fought the storm to end.
Its iron voice was crowned with praise, then cast aside in shame,
By smiling hands with sharpened knives that praised, then broke her name.

She fell beneath the altar stone where party banners waved,
And from that day a single creed in borrowed colours reigned.
They wrapped their chains in velvet words and called the burden gain,
Promised gold in every palm while fastening the chain.

They flung the gates of chance abroad and called it freedom’s spin,
Where foreign tables feasted fat while Britain paid to grin.
They poured out easy silver loans with honey on the tongue,
And sold a thousand paper dreams to old alike and young.

A house for all, they sweetly sang, with keys for every hand,
Though every brick was owned by debt and mortgaged to the land.
The ink was thin, the rules were soft, the ledgers opened wide,
And hollow wealth in borrowed clothes came swaggering in with pride.

They built new banks for every fool to gamble on a name,
And taught the poor that credit was a shortcut into fame.
Then came the chant of “Uni! Uni!” rising like a drum,
As if a gown and borrowed words made wisdom surely come.

A parchment for the half-awake, a promise stamped and sealed,
They marched the young through lecture halls like wheat across a field.
They fed the mills with subsidy, cried “Expand! Expand! Expand!”
And scattered golden bait like seed on every eager hand.

“What possibly could fail?” they laughed beneath the painted trap,
Then sprung the jaws and watched the dream collapse in one loud snap.
The goalposts did not merely move, they burned them where they stood,
And left the ash of broken trade where once stood honest wood.

Then debt became the daily bread, and failure filled the cup,
One faction fled the sinking deck, the next sped madness up.
They named it “Austerity,” cold and neat, necessity by name,
And used the crash of banking halls to mask the greater blame.

Yet still the screws were tightened more, the noose was pulled in turn,
Till all could feel the nation choke and all could see it burn.
Then came the plague, the shuttered streets, the warnings barked in dread,
“Obey, comply, do not step out, or suffer fear instead.”

They pressed the boot on purse and mind and called the bruises care,
Till common folk began to smell the rot behind the air.
They cried for change, but change returned in different mask and tie,
The selfsame choir in altered coats still singing lullaby.

Now ledgers bleed and morals crack beneath the weight of lies,
A sponsored hand still grips the throat while truth grows dim in eyes.
Great Britain gasps in strangled dusk with but a kick or two,
Still drowning in the final throes beneath a fading blue.

 

Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

 

In 1982 Great Britain stood it’s ground against a hostile force and WON.
The Leader of this Great Nation was rewarded with a knife in the back by those she though of as friends and supporters.

She was very soon after slain on the alter of the socialist ‘Uni-Party’ which has been in control from that day to this – April 2026.
As a result we were given ‘gifts’ by the uni-party to ‘help’ us achieve wealth and great personal success.

Access to much higher Gambling winnings, made so much easier by opening UP the UK to international Gambling platforms that couldn’t be hosted in their native country’s.

We were given loans at near zero interest rates, self-certified 100% +++ mortgages so that everyone and anyone could own their own home.
(Though with a mortgage, it’s never really your OWN home until you pay that very last payment).
New Bank accounts could be opened by anyone, even with a very low credit rating.

We were also offered and almost Guaranteed University placements, whether you had a Brain or only Half! A Brain. Education was the Buzz-Word at the time, and it was repeated as MANY times as possible so that Everyone soon realised that ‘Uni’ was the ONLY way to GO!

Businesses were subsidised fantastically! So that they could EXPAND-Expand-EXPAND! Subsidies in place if You set-up in designated areas WHAT! Could go WRONG!??

Well – Once We all strolled into ‘The Socialists Rat-Trap’ With promises of Personal and Business Success For ALL! … We very soon found out! When they not only MOVED the goal posts – They Burnt them to the ground. Creating DEBT and FAILURE for everyone! Until the current regime resigned leaving the other half of the ‘Uni-Party’ to accelerate the decline even faster using ‘Austerity’ as it’s ‘necessity default’ Using the Banking Collapse as the perfect excuse!

Gradually, everything STILL got WORSE! Until another excuse was found to Beat Us ALL To The FLOOR! Financially and Mentally – Yes! A Pandemic was going to almost complete the job with it’s lock-downs and very official warnings of “Do Not Do This!  And That! – Or there WILL Be Consequences!”

Until the public smelt! The RAT! And demanded Change! Back! To the previous half of the ‘Uni-Party’ Who proceeded to DRIVE Great Britain towards a financially bankrupt society, and a Morally bankrupt Administration, which has an ‘Elephant Strangle-Hold’ on the Nation they have been Sponsored – To DESTROY! … Great Britain .. Dying from Strangulation, with only a couple more Kicks LEFT! – Until DEATH is inevitable.

Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You … Pete …

 

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**The GM Prison**

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

Beneath a sky that hums with silent schemes,
We plant our hopes in rows and fragile dreams,
A polytunnel stretched against the haze,
To guard our crops from unseen, drifting sprays.

We flee the streets where London’s engines roar,
To breathe in fields we thought were pure once more,
With soil beneath our nails and hearts set free,
We chase the myth of what the air should be.

They tested blood before we turned away,
And seeds that sprouted in the city grey,
Then far from there, where greener pastures lie,
We thought we’d cleanse beneath a clearer sky.

A year went by with sunsets soft and wide,
With cleaner winds—or so we had implied,
Yet science whispered truths we couldn’t see,
The same faint trace in both reality.

The vegetables we nurtured with such care,
Still carried ghosts that lingered in the air,
Invisible, persistent, finely spun,
A thread connecting all beneath the sun.

The numbers showed no change we could defend,
No pure escape, no sharp dividing end,
Just different views to soothe a restless mind,
While something deeper lingered far behind.

Our peace improved, our spirits felt renewed,
By rolling hills and simpler attitude,
Yet questions grew like roots beneath the ground,
In every silence, doubt began to sound.

If this was then, before we named the game,
Before the whispers gathered into flame,
How long have veils been drifting overhead,
Unseen, unheard, yet quietly widespread?

What falls like dust but leaves no mark to trace,
What writes its code on every living face?
We look above and wonder what’s been done,
And if escape exists for anyone.

Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

 

Unless You grow Your food in a Polytunnel – The Geo-Engineering will STILL make Your Veggies etc ‘Genetically-Modified’ – They did a TV experiment some years ago in the UK with a couple living in London wanting to bring their kids up in cleaner air, eating healthier food etc;  Buying a plot of land down in the west country somewhere and growing their own food etc … They took blood tests and tests on the veg they were growing in their London garden before they left – and again a year or so later .. Nothing had changed .. The air quality was negligible, and the ‘Fresh Veg’ still had the impurities present .. The only things that really changed were the ‘surroundings’ They’d settled into – which improved their well-being … To think this was BEFORE We realised Geo-Engineering was going on – makes you wonder! – Just How looong! – They HAVE Been Poisoning Our Skies?

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Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You … Pete …

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#gm #geneticallymodified #geoengineering #chemtrails #cleanair #organicveg #thewisegardener .

 

 

 

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** The Siege Of Great Britain **

A thousand rules, each small when standing lone,
Together form a structure overthrown,
Not built in haste, but crafted piece by piece,
A tightening grip that never seems to cease.

 

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

A nation isn’t conquered by ships upon the sea,
But quietly reshaped from minds that can’t see free,
No cannons roar, no banners fall in flame,
Just subtle shifts that slowly change the game.

First loosen roots that once made people strong,
Convince them self-reliance is somehow wrong,
Unweave the threads of harvest, trade, and skill,
Till empty shelves bend slowly to the will.

Then raise the cost of bread and light and heat,
Make daily living feel like some defeat,
Essentials climb beyond the common hand,
While whispered reasons echo through the land.

“It’s for the future, for the greater good,”
A phrase repeated till it’s understood,
Though pockets thin and choices fade away,
The script remains the same from day to day.

Once fertile fields now rest beneath decree,
Bound up in rules that choke productivity,
The plough stands still where once it carved with pride,
And foreign ships bring in what grew inside.

Dependence grows where independence stood,
A quiet shift disguised as something good,
The more they need what others choose to send,
The less they’re free to shape their start and end.

With every rise in cost, control expands,
Not chains of steel, but guided, tightened hands,
For when survival hangs on fragile thread,
It’s easier to steer the hearts you’ve led.

No siege with walls or ladders at the gate,
But pressures small that slowly concentrate,
Until the weight becomes too much to bear,
And no one knows exactly how it’s there.

A thousand rules, each small when standing lone,
Together form a structure overthrown,
Not built in haste, but crafted piece by piece,
A tightening grip that never seems to cease.

And through it all, a rallying refrain,
That sacrifice will somehow ease the strain,
Yet questions rise in quiet, cautious tone,
Of how a land once fed itself alone.

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Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

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** The Siege Of Great Britain**  –  From The Treasonous Traitors Inside!

 

There’s a long-standing idea that nations fall through dramatic, external forces—wars, invasions, or sudden catastrophe. But history and observation suggest something quieter and more complex can be just as powerful: change that comes gradually, internally, and often under the banner of progress.

One of the most striking ways this can happen is through the slow erosion of self-sufficiency. When a country can reliably produce its own food, energy, and essential goods, it holds a certain resilience. That resilience isn’t just economic—it’s psychological. It gives people a sense of stability and control over their future. But when those systems are weakened, whether through policy, neglect, or shifting priorities, a different dynamic begins to emerge.

As domestic production declines, dependence increases. Goods once grown, built, or sourced locally must now come from elsewhere. At first, this may not seem like a problem—global trade has many benefits, after all. But over time, if reliance becomes too great, it can leave a nation vulnerable to external pressures and internal strain.

Layered onto this is the rising cost of living, particularly around essentials—food, energy, housing. When these basic needs become more expensive, people feel it immediately. It shapes daily decisions, limits options, and can create a persistent sense of uncertainty. Importantly, rising costs don’t just affect wallets; they influence behavior. People become more cautious, more dependent on systems they may not fully trust, and less able to act independently.

Often, these changes are explained through large, complex challenges—economic shifts, environmental goals, or long-term planning. Issues like climate policy and sustainability are real and significant, and they require thoughtful responses. However, when policies tied to these goals have unintended consequences—such as increasing costs or reducing domestic capability—it’s worth examining how those trade-offs are managed and communicated.

The key concern isn’t any single policy or decision. It’s the cumulative effect. Small changes, each justified on their own, can add up to something much larger. Over time, they can reshape how a country functions and how its people experience everyday life.

What makes this process particularly difficult to address is its subtlety. There’s no clear turning point, no single moment where everything changes. Instead, it’s a gradual shift—one that can be hard to notice until its effects are deeply felt.

That’s why open discussion and critical thinking are so important. Questioning outcomes, examining evidence, and considering different perspectives aren’t signs of resistance—they’re essential parts of a healthy society. They help ensure that progress remains balanced, and that resilience isn’t unintentionally traded away.

Ultimately, the strength of a nation lies not just in its policies, but in its ability to adapt without losing its core stability. Maintaining that balance—between progress and self-reliance, between global cooperation and local strength—is one of the defining challenges of our time.

Please Check The Video Below ….

 

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Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You … Pete …

#siege #greatbritain #netzero #socialism #treason #costofliving

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#TheWiseGardenerSays:

Almost everyone romanticises over ‘The Countryside’ without realising that ‘Farming’ created what we see NOW! – And as everyone ‘should know’ – is that Farmers are among the Hardest-Working Folk on God’s Green Earth – Humbling! – Is The Keyword Here! …..

 

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

“STOP!” cried the gardener, weathered and spare,
Romanticising fields won’t make them fair.
You dream of meadows dipped in gold,
But soil is stubborn, harsh, and cold.

You paint the hills in softened light,
Ignore the frost that bites at night.
You sing of lambs and morning dew,
But not the work we must push through.

The hedgerows hide more thorns than grace,
The wind will slap you in the face.
The boots you wear will sink in clay,
And charm won’t wash the grime away.

Humbling! That is the lesson here,
Not all is quaint, not all is dear.
The countryside does not perform,
It shapes you slow through toil and storm.

You’ll blister hands on bramble and rake,
And lose more crops than you will take.
The rain won’t care about your plans,
It soaks the hope from eager hands.

The sunrise glows, yes, that is true,
But rises over labour too.
Each golden beam that warms the land
Still finds a tool in every hand.

So shed the dream that all is peace,
For nature does not grant release.
It asks for patience, grit, and spine,
And takes its due in blood and time.

Yet in that truth, a deeper grace—
An honest, unadorned embrace.
Not polished myth, nor painted scene,
But life that’s raw and fiercely keen.

So stop, step back, and understand,
This is no gentle, idle land.
Respect the ground beneath your feet—
Its beauty’s real because it’s not sweet.

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Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

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#thewisegardener #gardener #garden #farm #farmer #farming

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The Food-Junkie Plan-demic

When Food Becomes A Weapon To Control The Population’s Mind, Body And Soul For Monetary Gain! You Have To Wonder? – Are We Merely ‘Worker-Drones’ For The Globalist Elite!?

 

 

Please Click The Image Above – And Follow Along Below:

 

Screens glow bright in evening light, their colors slick and grand,
They whisper low of dough and doughnuts shaped by hidden hand.
A thousand ads with frying pans parade in hungry streams,
To seed desire and stoke the fire that simmers in our dreams.

The burgers gleam, the cheeses steam, the sauces drip and shine,
A symphony of recipes designed to blur the line.
Between a need and greedy feed, between a meal and more,
Till appetites ignite like kites that tug forevermore.

The shows appear with smiling cheer and judges bold and loud,
They cook, compete, present the treat to captivate the crowd.
Week by week the flavors speak and lure the watchers near,
A ritual feast through glowing beast the living rooms revere.

The ovens roar, the ratings soar, the sponsors line the stage,
Each plated bite becomes a sight to anchor every age.
From couch to phone the orders flown through apps that swiftly glide,
A rider near with takeaway to place it by your side.

The wrappers tear, the scented air awakens deeper need,
The sugar sings, temptation clings like ivy to the seed.
A midnight snack becomes a stack of habits tightly wound,
Where quiet gain becomes a chain of pounds that gather round.

Meanwhile halls of sterile walls count profits tall and wide,
Where pills await each rising weight the adverts helped to guide.
Insurance tallies hidden valleys carved by modern taste,
Where claims arise from sugared skies and years of dietary waste.

The cycle spins on greased-up pins through markets vast and grand,
A tidy scheme behind the screen devised by subtle hand.
For where there’s ill there’s profit still to harvest from the pain,
And medicine will welcome in the swelling health-care chain.

The watchers sit, convinced a bit this hunger’s simply theirs,
Unaware of crafted snares that linger in the airs.
The laughter bright on cooking night distracts the quiet clue,
That every cheer draws viewers near to crave another chew.

And far beyond the studio’s glow where quiet ledgers lie,
The engines hum of markets numb beneath a profit sky.
From farm to fork the pathways cork with deals both dark and deep,
While watchers chew what they once knew was merely harmless treat.

So salivate at every plate the networks proudly show,
Where recipes and rivalries ensure the cravings grow.
A gentle spell through sight and smell that keeps the viewers fed,
Until the cost appears embossed on body, mind, and bread.

Thus glows the screen with silver sheen each hungry evening hour,
A banquet staged upon the page of profit, praise, and power.
And in that light the bites seem right, the story neatly spread,
Till health and wealth reveal the stealth that quietly was bred.

Copyright © Peter Moring  2026

 

Why would any government or globalist body feel the need to instigate a ‘food-junkie’ pandemic?

Consider that the most profitable industries in the world are Big Pharma – Insurance – Health & The War Machine and You’ll have the answer staring you in the face.

But How? …. Maybe finance the global TV advertising networks to continuously promote and feature food products during peak viewing times? So that viewers will salivate and order a takeaway to be delivered by the numerous ‘delivery companies’, usually using the services of the ‘black economy’ (AKA; CHEAP!)

Maybe sponsor numerous Foodie Programmes to be shown at Peak Viewing Times to keep those mouths salivating even more!

Then why not introduce the ‘competition element’ to these programmes to make doubly sure that the viewers come back for MORE! week-after-week?
Sounds like a ‘plan-demic’ to me .. A plan to cause an obesity pandemic .. Where health will certainly deteriorate. Where Big Pharma see’s profits SOAR! As folk start claiming on their ‘Health Insurances’ to try to recover from their health issues caused by their ‘now’ food addiction.

Seems like the perfect scenario EH? … Social Hypnosis through ‘Agent TV1’ as found in ‘The Human Survival Blueprint‘ by Ven Bunce.

The Globalists, Private Billionaires, Political Figures, Big Pharma, Insurance Co’s, Health Services, All raking in the Dollars/Pounds from the unsuspecting populations of the world who just ‘think’ they like food.

OH! Did I forget the ‘War Machine’?? … WELL! They have to get their Cannon-Fodder from somewhere. Doesn’t matter if they’re fit or not, just numbers of disposable human flesh is ALL that’s required as in ‘The Universal Soldier‘ by Ven Bunce.

Please Comment Below – And Check Out The Other Posts & Pages On This Blog – Thank You …

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