Excerpt for The Noise Of Lies by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

Title Page

Writings by Sha’Ra On WindWalker

(in collaboration with Sha'Tara EarthStar)

Copyright (©) 2019 Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Published by: Cocoons to Butterflies Publishing

Chilliwack, B.C. Canada

Cover pictures by: Top,

Bottom, Aleksey Shevchenko

All pictures found on

Space Picture: ESA/Hubble

I hope you enjoy these writings. Feedback is welcome.


Title Page


Nature With A Beer


I Choose My Choice

I Crossed The Line


Rich Text

Rock Bottom

Silver Ships In Dreams Of Earth


The Gift

The Village Idiot Box

The Nature Of Things

The Prophet's Story - As Told By Earth And Sky

The Stranger

The Traveler And The Staff

The True Shaman

Two Worlds

Uncommon Wisdom?

Why I Support Man's Belief Systems

The Noise Of Lies (Or The Lies Of Noise)


These books contain a form of free verse poetry, opinions based on observation, and some humour and imagination, engaging the heart as well as the mind. A critical look at many current issues intriguing and plaguing man. Spirituality, interaction with nature and environment, social changes, dwindling resources. Well worn issues now, indeed. But the poetry and other works in these books gives this subject a different perspective. I daresay that here we can find a "higher" vantage point from which to look at ourselves within the cosmos.

Who knows but some of the ideas in the books may get you inspired to do that thing you always wanted to do, even if this comes in a very small way, to make your corner of this world a better place to be in. Who knows but you may realize your little corner is a really nice place to be in after all.

It's all about life, if at times expressing life "outside the box" as the saying goes.

Nature With A Beer

There are people - I won’t mention names

who really enjoy going out in nature -

they pack their six packs of beer

and their off-road bikes

and they really know how to live it up -

how to be a part of all that is:

Have a couple of beers,

get on the bikes

and roar off, throwing sand and mud

and destroying all natural habitat at hand

that nature has failed to safeguard

with unsurmountable obstacles.

Then it’s back to the pick-up truck

for another couple of beers,

a look at a skin magazine

and listening to the boom box

and off we go again: Oh what fun it is to ride!

Yes it’s obviously the good life -

for some, that is.

No one ever asks nature if it’s OK

to despoil her this way -

but then, no one ever asked her either

when a war is planned... and waged anywhere.

Nature, like woman, is there to be raped

and nature, unlike woman, says nothing.

Nature doesn’t ask for justice

from those who destroy her:

not because she is stupid

and not because she is afraid

but because her time frame isn’t that of humans:

there’s payback in the future, never fear

and although she is not vindictive

she has her cycles, her “periods”

and then she becomes quite bitchy.

Earth changes?

humans, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.


Where in blazes do we live?

Where do we reside?

Who knows, who can tell?

We live within constructs,

variously called “earth”

or the universe, or the cosmos,

but what is our address?

We can't know, can we,

for what would we use

to locate ourselves by?

We don't even know

where in the universe

this solar system is located.

Just thought I'd throw that out

for someone to ponder on.

Maybe it doesn't matter

and so most would rather think,

and when they die, so be it.

It's over and done with.

But is it? How do we know that?

We've had teachers rant on

about heaven and about hell

and woe to us if we didn't toe the line

but the line has become mighty thin

these last few years at least

and in some places,

could use mending.

Humanity: fleas upon the earth!

earth: a speck in the galaxy!

the Milky Way: one of billions -

Will we ever know who we are,

or how we came to be

(beyond mere belief, that is)?

We do not know what a universe is,

much less a cosmos.

I Choose My Choice

I walk a gravel shore

after the salmon have spawned;

their dead bodies lie everywhere,

returning to Nature.

Do these creatures have a spirit,

a personal energy that returns knowingly

to some spirit world?

What about me? What do I know of this?

Do I return? Do I move forward

to some old place or some new place?

Is it of my own making?

Someone else's choice for me?

Do I determine my destination into the after life?

Interesting thought:

How does one plan for such a future?

Such an eventuality? How can one be sure?

Seems to me it does not matter

if I can be sure or only guess:

what truly matters is that I choose my choice!

I've seen enough of death and destruction

more than enough -

therefore I choose a world

that no longer entertains death:

where there are no wars and no killings;

where no one dies from lack of care,

or lack of food;

where people know what sharing means.

If that is the kind of world I choose -

and most normal people would choose the same -

isn't it terribly sad,

that not one of us is permitted

such a world right here, on this planet?

I Crossed The Line


I crossed the line I can’t remember when

into a forbidden bungled jungle

where children dare not play or stay

where innocence is unwelcome

half the world desires me

half the world despises me

half of me desires to be me

half of me despises what I have become

it seems

nothing but an object of hated desire

do I have a mind?

do I know thoughts that belong to me alone?

am I somebody?

who cares?

I smile and move with apparent ease

in impossible clothes and even more

Impossible unclothes

What am I? What am I? What am I?

I cry into the sunrise

from an ornate balcony

into the sunset

wondering where I’ll spend the night

but the day is endured

the night is consumed

I walk sidewalks of tile and concrete

ride taxis that go nowhere

but dig holes in my purse

sit down in unusual places

demanding I learn strange customs

endure (enjoy?) the leers, the looks

wondering when will I get old

become invisible

adapted to serve

or complain in raspy voice

dead the dream of a red convertible

tossing my red hair in my face

to make him laugh

dead the dream of a makeover

and a low-cut dress

to make me stand out

in a light that went out long ago

when I walked out on myself.


From the dried skeleton

of a hardwood tree

he lovingly carves

a life-like sculpture.

In humble thankfulness

for this natural bounty

he plants a new seed:

his own gift to the land,

a simple exchange of life.

Such reverence for life

presages man's re-discovery

of unity in a living world,

re-kindles human hope

soaring beyond thought

of mere survival.

Rich Text

They say I’m a budding poet -

OK, I admit

Some buds take a bit longer

To open and bloom -

But just because

I’m only at the beginning,

Don’t think I’m stupid:

For example,

I figured out the simplicity

Of getting extra bucks

for my wonderful words:

From now on,

I’m saving all my work

In rich text format -

No calling me “cheap” now.

Rock Bottom

That lonely figure on a deserted shore,

walking without purpose, without goal -

is me: life lost in by-gone good-times days;

when I read the daily news with satisfaction;

when money was taken for granted,

- made or lost, I'd always come up winning -

and those close to me showed their love

by spending it in the great shopping malls,

some of which, I'm told, I owned.

But a tornado called reality struck

and it's all gone, as if it never was -

I can barely understand what happened.

My life seems so barren and without purpose.

I notice a kind of mindless peacefulness

coming from the waves drifting to their death

upon the cold, wet sands... Their sad song

leaves my soul longing to recover

the serenity and happiness I once knew

far, far from this alien shore.

Can one as wrapped up in stuff as I

really hope to find joy, or happiness?

Where should I go to find such?

I asked myself as I looked over the gray sea

and the waves continued to hiss and mutter

their voice singing a million year old song,

a “best seller” obviously, to repeat so long!

And I understood that all along

I'd been standing, blind and deaf

in the middle of paradise.

Silver Ships In Dreams Of Earth

Looking outside my window

just before sun rise,

I see a silver ship approaching,

hovering just above my window.

Suddenly I am on the ship,

escorted to a room

where several humanoid creatures

communicate questions:

I gather they want to know

if the people of earth are worth saving;

or if they should just let them

destroy their world and themselves.

I pause for a moment and think,

what if people saw “real” space ships

hovering above their cities in the morning?

Would they panic?

Would they think they were being attacked?

Yes, likely that is what they'd think

for that is how they are taught to believe.

I spoke:

Well I think the people of earth

would never trust any alien life;

would never understand why

anyone from another planet, world or galaxy

would want to help them:

most of them believe their planet is

“just fine” - thank you very much!

They then asked me

if I wanted to see their world -

just to give me an idea of what

“a world just fine” really looks like;

how people from “a just fine world”

interact with one-another -

for mutual benefit.

- Should I take them up on their offer?

- Would I want to come back if I did?



the tearing apart

of soul and body;

killer of joy;

destroyer of beauty;

maker of enemies;

spoiler of the good.


that lack of perspective

in unbalanced minds;

that heartbeat

of man's social systems:

ego's creative centre


that built-in energy thief

who's flow of energy

gives feelings of power

to self-pity, despair

and dreams of violent



the high cost of living

in death of a body

and destruction of a planet!

The path of doom

of a collective unconscious

devoid of enlightenment:


that irresistible pull;

that momentous desire

to choke the living shit

out of some asshole

who desperately needs it!

When the stress of life

consumes me

I just burn up.”

The Gift

Do we recognize the Gift?

Winter's snow falling gently

upon bowing evergreens;

the sun's soft warming light

when life would seem too cold to bear;

the bright moon's eerie ways

guiding us down midnight paths?

Do we recognize the Gift?

From some unfathomable depth,

perhaps from within ourselves,

from nature's womb and cradle,

life courses, races through our blood,

fills our senses to the brim:

a Gift to be of value must be accepted,

understood, experienced.

The life we live, the times we have,

are they of our making...

Or is it a Gift to be recognized?

We have played with life

as if it was some toy;

as if it could be broken, discarded

and another would be found...

Does our knowledge of life

not tell us otherwise?

Are we but a memory in the making?

A mist passing through time and space?

"This gift of life man takes for granted,

Who is the Owner and final judge

of use or misuse?"

The Village Idiot Box

O Cable TV - God of this New Age,

Art thou here to teach me?

Art thou here to amuse me?

Methinks thou art here

mayhap but to rot mine poor brains.

Thou bringest forth the daily news,

nay, the hourly news, forsooth!

The minutely news to boot!

Dost thou care I should be informed

of dire happenings in yonder distant lands?

Seekest thou not rather to confuse

and maketh me worry

this, that or t'other shouldst befall

that I may rush to the nearest mall

and load my reluctant ass

with baskets of sundry wares

I'd never thought of buying

but for these new cares?

O Cable TV, thou son of darkness,

wherefrom cometh thou

to despoil my soul of light?

To rob mine brain of comely thoughts?

O, who shalt deliver me

from such a loathsome monster?

Who shalt come hither

and lead me once more

into the calm reading of a simple book?

The Nature Of Things

Don't you just love those nature shows?

The ones where animals do all their wonderful things;

in the snows, the sands, the waters, the trees

and even in the air?

Wonderful and heart warming, fuzzy and scary, all at once.

(Of course it's all a set-up for the cameras

but don't we just love to be fooled for entertainment?)

And while we're peeping at the animals

(and even plants in time-lapse photography

 to give an aura of happening)

we program ourselves to conveniently forget

we too, like it or not, are just as much part of...

        "The Nature of Things."

Paradoxically we are much more a part of it

than any other life extant on Earth today.

So much a part of it, we can blow it up, poison it, burn it,

choke it with refuse.       -- Kill it --

And for a few dollars more -

that's exactly what we are about to do.

Who'll stop us? Savannah lions? Sea lions? Dandelions?

By some exaggerated twist of mindless arrogance

The Earth human came to see himself

superior to the nature that supports him --

and yet, wonder boy that he is

never has he been able to take one breath,

one drink of water, one bite of food

that did not come from the very nature

he still believes he stands above and beyond.

No my friend, you are not special,

not some freak from space; not above:

you are human, you are Earth and you live or die by her.

Kill her, now you have the power.

Sell her as slave and prostitute into the hell you've created:

it's indeed your prerogative to do so - and your penchant.

But mark these words well - if you can still read -

You're not a predator, you're not a hero; you're not special:

you are a fool -- seven billion times a fool --

only in this are you special; only in this can you take pride.

Oh but some of you believe you have gods?

Space brothers eagerly waiting with open arms

to save your worthless hides?

They are out there, certainly -

but safely waiting, out of reach,

waiting until you've gone, to the very last one.

Then they'll wait another billion years or so

(Just to be sure)

and they'll come to take another look at planet Earth.

They'll bring children to run and laugh in the wind

and they'll bring their own tools this time:

compassion, love, caring, nurturing, understanding, peace

and ... the one tool most feared by the greedy of this last day:

simple cooperation.

    "Then shall Earth blossom again, and without fear"

The Prophet's Story - As Told By Earth And Sky


The prophet heard the coming of the times:

of course he did, that's what prophets do.

The prophet saw the rising of the tides:

of course she did, that's what prophets do.

The prophet tasted fully the changing of the times:

of course he did, that's what is said people will do

to those who insist on being prophets --

to those who always must give the right message

always in the worst possible time: when society hears

but finds it terribly inconvenient to listen.


The prophet for her trouble was nailed upon the tree

and her children sold into slavery.

"Should I have remained silent for the children's sake?" 

She screamed in agony dying abandoned and alone

but for waiting vultures perched on two lesser trees.

The question has been answered already by society:

by a railing, mocking, gawking, thieving multitude

that stole her last possession and jeered:

"If thou be the Prophet and True, save thyself and us!"


The prophet has returned to her own world to grieve

and "The Prophet's Story" is now known far and wide

across immensities of space where other worlds spin;

where humans evolved beyond the plagues of darkness;

where they listened to their gifted ones and realized in time

no one has ever choked from swallowing one's pride.

A new body has been given her but she insists

that on her back, her hands and feet, as in her heart

it must continue to broadcast the scars of her passage

to remember, to feel, the hate-filled sea she faced in trial

and every night no sleep she allows to ease her sorrow:

cry she does, tears uncounted she sheds, for her children lost

who unknowing and un-remembering must now die

beyond reach of any compassionate heart or mind.

The Stranger

Autumn came too early:

one storm followed another

and leaves began drifting

silently in the cold wind.

The sun peered meekly

through denuded branches

casting uncertain shadows

upon the twisted mat

of flattened Autumn grasses.

On a lonely stretch of road

I passed a tired soul:

I turned back to look,

and when he turned his face

in the faint light

I saw that he was me.

The Traveler And The Staff

 You who would be a Traveler--

How well have you looked to your Staff?

How intimate your heart with its Genesis?

Do you know of its Provenance?

For to know the Beginning

Is to discover the Path into the Future.


There is but One Truth here, Virgin Walker

Some have called it Trust.

It lays painstakingly ingrained

In the twisted windings of this Wood.

It knows the First, that for good or ill--

It knows the Provider - read this in its Rings--

It knows the Shaper - for it has submitted--

It knows the Finder - for do you not hold it now?


And now sense its eagerness to know the Wielder

Whether upon the sloping deck of an outbound ship

tossed by the wildest of an ocean's storm;

Whether upon soft or harsh lands on an unknown world,

In the mazes of artificial cities where death holds sway

or wandering alone, frightened and free

in endless wildernesses under sun, moon and storm.


It aches to touch the Ever-Stone of high mountains

Or slip into the desert's Slithering Sands.

It longs for the grip upon its handle

whether strong or weak;

defending life when oppressed;

upholding the tired body at the end of the day;

propping up the sagging legs on the endless Journey.


Have you learned all of this now

O bright-eyed and foolish Virgin Walker?

And how could you?

For only upon the Return can anyone know.

Only the One who returns can ever understand.

The True Shaman

People walk the path the System lays out for them,

never question the turn this way, the bend that way...

For that’s the road, they say, the One and Only,

and who can change its path?

But the true Shaman comes upon this scene

and laughs at those who cling to such silly notions:

so where the road bends to the left, he winks

and makes it turn to the right instead – why?

“All is relative” he says laughing!

Fun it may be for the Shaman,

but not for the System nor the common folk

who, utterly confused, mill about this place

where the road changed direction without permission.

So, finding the Shaman still laughing,

they quickly end his life...

But who will remember, a generation hence?

Or give it two: the crowds happily tread

the now old bend to the right

and it was always so says the “ancient” lore

and it’s the only way, says the religion of the day

and it’s the “Safeway”; the “Wal-mart” way -

the “Coca Cola” way... the Subway, the One and Only –

the unchangeable; the Divine Way...

For the System has built a church and a shopping mall

just around the bend; to the “right” of course.

And now, another Shaman must come by,

see the benighted crowds follow their true road

to success, glory and death as it was meant to be

and “see” it turning to the left – and so shall the old end

and so it shall begin again.

Two Worlds

I've seen teen-aged louts

drag their feet


along their aimless way.

Overpriced runners

laces dragging

upon a despised walkway:

Gaudy colored attires,

oversized "shorts"

preferably dirty,

housing flabby dead weights

a chore just to watch.

Unkept hair

cut as if by accident

shaggy manes, multicolored;

cropped pates

housing unused brain cells:

I've overheard the louts talking,

cursing, swearing,

foul and ignorant words,

filling the streets

alleys and

shopping malls

Over their heads,

a leaden sky,

no longer blue;

filled with the poison

of their thoughts


rogue technology;

a world in which

things cannot live

I see another world:

Children staring into

a crystal sea

an azure sky

running lightly

over soft mossy paths

bare feet soundless,

their voices, their laughter

a song of love.

to the one who provides

to the one who gives.

Their smooth, healthy skins,

nurtured by a loving earth

become a song of thanksgiving.

I look into that world

I see no sign

that man has control there;

I only see

a touch of love;

a humanity in harmony

with its world.

I feel that world

sense no fear

no death

no disease

no conflict

no end of peace.

a world in which things


Uncommon Wisdom?

Forget writing poetry;

they say:

accept our 101 ways

of making t-shirts in a factory!"

That pretty well spells common wisdom.

But... say there were no factories

manufacturing 'goods' (and bads?)

few of us need;

say there were

no enforcement of guilt and shame

(it's called advertising and peer pressure)

upon those who don't drive the latest cars;

purchase the hottest gadgetry;

wear the latest fashion joke...

what would there be?

It's now imagination time:


no smog-making factories;

no paved-over miles of vital soil;

no monster trucks ripping up the hills;

no towering high-rises housing fear

and planners of expendability.


lush green forests,

sparkling lakes and crystal streams

reflecting a pristine wilderness;

birds perched in swaying branches

singing the rebirth of Earth?

Some may think

this is not possible,

or necessary,


dreams possess

the seed of reality:

and such seeds create choices.

Which will we choose

for tomorrow's child?

Why I Support Man's Belief Systems

Ah, but I'm asked more than enough times

why I keep knocking man's belief systems,

those sanctified beliefs that to any observer

work so well, produce

so much of love and joy.

Religion - that embarrassment of beliefs in whatnot God:

what most amazes me: the unreserved love

adherents of one religion have for the others:

especially true of Christianity –

the heart-warming overflow of compassion

for those of competing faiths;

individuals giving everything they possess

upholding, serving, to help those who hate them...

For so I do observe.

Let's look at man's money system:

a paragon of virtue wherever it rules –

see how the poor are clothes and fed and housed

when the bankers and businessmen walk into town!

See how people are taken in, given employment

and their children given free day care

while mothers enjoy time at work,

a sweet daily break from the endless cares of home.

Yes of course, this too, I see every day.

And what should I say of man's governments?

Truly this is where justice rules,

just laws made;

representation fair for rich and poor alike.

Where anyone with a grievance finds selfless help

from those who dedicated public servants.

Let it not be said a selfish man ever dared

walk the hallowed halls of power.

here never clacked a greedy woman’s stiletto

for as one, all politicians have but one thing at heart:

to see the people happy, healthy and wealthy

all across the land.

And so it is observed. And so history records.

May man's belief systems continue to rule

bringing prosperity to one and all!

The Noise Of Lies (Or The Lies Of Noise)

Ever wonder why, wherever you go

in man's twisted world

you hear a radio blaring,

or a TV monitor is stuck in your face?

Why every vehicle is factory equipped

with same radio, or other noise maker

euphemistically called 'music' or 'news'?

Why every restaurant, even office

plays these annoying noises in your ears?

Well, perhaps to you they are still counted

as free entertainment -

why trouble yourself with ideas?

But I'll do the troubling for you -

these noises have a nefarious intent:

to prevent you from listening

to thoughts that may arise

from your own heart, your own mind.

The System needs your allegiance

day in, day out, and if it could

it would short-circuit your dream time also -

suffice it to remind you

it says your dreams are worthless -

So the thoughts you express

are those of Wal-Mart's and McDonald's,

of General Motors or Coca-Cola's...

You argue the merits of brands,

Sports teams and of music bands

then wonder why the world's in such a mess!

Where do you suppose hides the wisdom

to make a difference?

Or even to know a difference

needs to be made?

It was in those thoughts of yours

the radio blasted out of your head

many, many years ago.

Don't bother looking for them now

they are dead.

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