We are not divided evenly much is left undone, ungrounded not obsolete but cast aside for awhile, seeds witheld, mouths stay wide open in anticipation for areas far and wide. A sun beats down in the hiss of drought, sound and shimmer of golden roast.
The seeds are in the sack, the plough stayed rusty in a colder land of quotas and quangos to wallow in false rotation of a divisive cycle, the cycle never hit the corn, that never grew. The farmer fed his own land and population, the dryness still ate guns and died
asking who will be leader for today as impetus for survival was the price, slave of but a few. The western plough stayed in the west and Africa remained bone dry the people remained unourished and confused what has changed…
By Mason Cult Poet
Mason Cult Poet was born in Westmorland in the Lake District in a farming engineering community. On one side of the family many portions of nobility mainly the Stuarts. Mason Cult did as the herd does and went through the education process. attended drama school and ran small businesses. The stigma of mental health issues blighted him as it does with all creative people, was diagnosed in 2011 with a form of Asperger’s Syndrome which can impair executive function however it has given him a higher sense to see what others do not and from this ability he concludes the world is controlled by esoteric forces and that other interventions operate steering the world we know ro a new beginning.. What we witness we are forced to challenge and the work of Mason Cult assists this