Origin Lies – Poem

Paranormal levitation

Our creators were alien geneticists,

Claiming to be gods.

We were made to be slaves,

Formed out of stars and clay,

Abused offspring who blindly obeyed,

Generation after generation,

Until the gods fought, and then left,

Leaving us mired with the fallen ones and serpents,

Who took their place.

But their numbers dwindled,

Under the harsh sun and earth’s vibration.

So they fled beneath the surface,

Scraping out an existence,

Using humans for subsistence,

Controlling the minds of the masses,

Controlling the ruling classes.

They still exist, but,

Now the battle has begun anew,

As the serpent fights for supremacy,

Manipulating our genes,

Altering the vessel to suit their needs,

Taking the final step,

For total domination.

Excerpt from the novel Of Stars and Clay

“Elizabeth M. Herrera has created an amazing work — one that should be in the hands of every human on Earth who cares about this planet.” — Dr. Stewart A. Swerdlow, Grand Prior of New Templar Order

An engineered virus kills most of mankind. Those who survive are controlled from behind the scenes by a dark force that has waited millenniums for global domination. Gone are our scientists, leaders, military commanders, teachers, engineers, parents and children—the only ones left standing are those useful to the agenda.

To maintain order, the United Nations organization dutifully steps in, but its leaders are not what they appear to be. The trusted UN uniform causes each country’s army to hand over its leash. All of the world’s soldiers follow the commands of the New World Order without a single shot being fired. The devious plan unfolds perfectly—with one exception.

The virus brings about an unexpected DNA mutation among a handful of Earth Sentinels, causing them to develop supernatural abilities. Those impacted are: Zachary Thompson, a young American adapting to the Amazon Jungle alongside his indigenous wife and children; Haruto, a Miko in Japan, who lives with her lover, Billy White Smoke; and Tom Running Deer and Cecile Two Feathers, rebellious Native Americans who reside on a reservation in Canada. While their transformative changes unfold, Bechard the fallen angel tries to regroup his fellow Earth Sentinels so they can save mankind.

During their perilous mission, the Earth Sentinels uncover secrets about mankind’s origins, ancient astronauts, genetic engineering, the Illuminati, and the lies that have been woven throughout religion and history.

Click to read Chapter 1


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Where have the real hippies gone?


Marches against the “Man”,
Demands for peace and love,
sidetracked by other people’s plans.
Manicured fingers, hungry hearts.
The vulture ate the dove.

Youth stares back at you,
despising the complacency,
of vanquished heroes,
Plastic crowns, hazy skies,
and wars multiplied ten times.

An old record plays.
Your heart stirs,
Remembering an oasis in the midst of crazy,
life’s persistent demands held at bay,
before you yielded, and
your wooden beads became gilded.
Soul dust lines your ashtrays.



The Red Road Calls

red road

Unfounded faith,
Lost along the way,
Too many rules,
Too much hate.

My ancestors call to me,
‘Walk the red road,
Past wounded knee,
Come home, come home.’

Loved my path,
But the world had different plans,
And I got lost,
In credit cards and traffic jams.

The red road calls me at night,
‘Head toward the light,’
The one hidden,
Deep, deep inside.

Listless Days

drowing girl

Mired in stagnant air,

no direction, no cares,

listless leaves,

aimless birds,

no one sings,

clouds mill.

Another day like all the others,

fruitless, pointless.

Lost time,

discarded carelessly.

Seized by the moment,

intensity wells,

an acidic spring fills the room.

I can’t breath.

Slowly sinking,

Bubbles rising,

chasing the light.

11 Streaks of Blood — A Tribute to Charlie Hebdo

A door bursts open,
newspapers scatter,
11 streaks of blood,
flow across the floor.

The dark smoke rises,
then disperses,
its curse,
passing over the chosen ones,
sleeping in faux-down beds,
secured by velvet ropes.

The slumberers stir,
sensing trouble.
But coaxed and soothed,
they doze once more,
unaware of the phantom wind,
outside the mirrored doors.

The Ivory Tower Syndrome

Lounging aloft an ivory tower,

mocking peasants in its shadow.

To those who have much, more is given,

subsidies, kickbacks and unjust laws rewritten.

A world cut into squares.

Reserving paradise,

far from landfills,

nuclear plants,

and oil spills.

Choking on an endless thirst.

salivating over engraved currency,

Never enough!

More, more, more!

But empty souls are never quenched.

The Barn — Poem


The barn is quiet.

Amber rays filled with dust,

dancing near a window pane.

A pig grunts.

Chickens strut closer,

hoping for grain.

Corn is scattered in the hay.

The pig looks up,

distrusting, yet curious.

I stay away,

from the untamed swine.

I walk to the field,

watching cows graze in the lush grass.

Black bodies amble in unison,

toward the fence.

Wet noses greet me, tails swish.

Scratching their heads.

I wince at their misguided trust,

yet admire them for it.

To me, they are friends,

to others, they are meat.

My grandfather scolds me,

for being too attached.

I know the outcome.

The eventual heartbreak.

And each visit, I count them,

fearing there will be one less.

Cozy Days of Summer

ice cream photo

Ice cream sold by a street vendor,

Giggling with friends,

licking the frozen milk,

while the golden sun touches our cheeks.

Together we are invincible,

running, biking, laughing until dusk,

when the streetlights flicker on,

then we rush home,

to baths and bedtime stories.

Alone with family,

safe under the covers,

my mother tucks me in,

turns off the light.

With naive eyes,

I stare through window,

at the infinite night,

filled with twinkling stars,

that grant secret wishes,

blessing an imagined future life.

Sleep beckons,

but I resist,

fearing I might not return,

to this childhood dream

of love and bliss.

The Frozen Men — Poem

snow falling


Falling gracefully,

Pure and white,

Fluttering, swirling,

In the night.


The approaching storm,

Foreshadowed by winds,

Brings a flurry,

Of frozen men.


Landing cold and naked,

On a crystal blanket,

A magical union,

Between earth and heaven.


Sweet Song of Ecstasy

walking through woods

Sweet song of ecstasy,

In an ancient tongue,

The elements,

Know the words.

The foreign land,

Veiled by fog.

Tempting delights,

Exciting fear.

Trepidatious path,

Toes on stones,

Toward the known,

But forgotten.

Quiet beckoning,

Of home.