After Our Golden Age, the Age of Iron: In the Shadow of the Apocalypse

By Andrew B. Goewey

The sonnets in this book are a result of having been kept illegally in a psychiatric hospital (being censored) for more than 4 years, getting tortured with microwaves every day of this time. I had cancer/leukemia symptoms many times but was healed through prayer, faith healing. I think Military Intelligence has done this or the FBI. They are appalling in their lack of respect for the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and over violating of the Torture Convention, etc., to which we are signatories. My time receiving this microwave harassment since August 10 of 1993 has been the worst part of my life, but thank God, I have made it so far. Without Him it would have been impossible

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781462843497

Andrew B. Goewey

I have been a poet since late 1967 and a prose (essays, letters, journal entries) write since a few months before that, especially. This started after I “discovered” women that year and took English 113, Poetry, at the University of California at Riverside my sophomore year. I have written many sonnets, many of them stolen in Zip disc and hard copy form by FBI and other covert operations. Two kinfolk targeted me with lies, and these agencies still have not stopped their life-threatening persecution. Military intelligence and the CIA is involved, too. I have never been arrested, thank God, and served in the Army in 1971. War in Sweden in 1969-90 resisting the draft but finally didn’t need to since never got drafted. I have studied to some extent 10 languages and can read, write, speak and translate 6 of them.

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Copyright © 2010 by Andrew B. Goewey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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These sonnets are dedicated to any sympathetic to victims of

torture and terror, which microwave harassment can be. It is

100% unconstitutional, illegal, and infiltrates the entire

country. If for some reason you’re on the wrong side of

some spy agency, they will have no mercy on you, and you,

afflicted, risk dying of some form of cancer such as leukemia,

dying of a heart attack, or becoming a cripple. May all those victims

passed away rest in peace, and many also living can be found at

www.mindcontrolforums.com, plus a lot of info. This book is

also dedicated to those in the establishment who try to do right.

It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise,

than for a man to hear the song of fools.

—Solomon—

Sonnet

The act of God does wrong to none

June 24, 2009

early a.m.

Semper fi—or always true—my dad

was photo recon pilot in 2 wars—

he was not dour, but was usually glad—

was a New England Yankee, and his crew

was never shot down over Japan, Korea—

took many aerial recon photos—lived

to stay in the Marines ‘till ‘62—

never had regrets nor did misgive.

But worked for Admiral Byrd at Pentagon—

became a lawyer, which served him as civilian—

like all, had various setbacks undergone,

but as a man, my dad was one in million.

But shadow crossed his path, a pack of lies,

which sent him soon to California skies.¹

Sonnet

There is no redemption from hell.

June 25, 2009

7:04 a.m. 9:55

This morning, all is o.k. ’cept my feet—

they’re bitten into by Sam’s microwaves—

sometimes they’re hot, sometimes they emit heat.

Why does this idiot have to so behave?

This makes me mad—’tis natural to react

to such abuse at night—or out of blue—

it’s hard to put this down, to this redact—

this crime of Uncle Sam’s will him undo.²

But it is secret—top secret they said—

and agent FBI has told me this—

with hat official-looking—like a fed,

I said "Can’t they hold off on this abyss?³"

This is so secret, they’re sure none will know—

they label any screaming as psycho.⁴

Sonnet

June 25, 2009

6:52 p.m.

My sister, Susanna, now sixty-two—

is youthful-looking, energetic, calm—

doesn’t whisky snort, tabakky chew—

has popularity, a certain charm.

She also has spent years photographing things—

nature scenes and flowers—some wildlife—

her effort much contentment to folk brings—

she does avoid the glitz and glamour life;

and is a serious student of her art—

my father was also, photo recon⁵

in World War II, Korea, he did outsmart

the enemy⁶ and flew like super swan,

his Hellcat and such aircraft, not knowing well

later his daughter would her efforts sell.⁷

Sonnet

July 27, 2009

12:30 a.m.

America was spiritual Israel—

a beacon to all nations and all folks—

straight-acting, to no nation a betrayal,

would glory days to all people evoke.

But 1968 we crossed the line

into the dark where Satan’s evil was—

from King’s assassination to Columbine,

the demon powers calamities did cause.

We gave them power, turning our backs on God,

on His Commandments, and on His dear Son,

spiritually we were whores—it wasn’t odd

that we became the Whore of Babylon.

Spiritual Sodom, spiritual Egypt,⁸ too—

all evil and destruction would us subdue.

Sonnet

June 27, 2009

3:27