I don’t play the game, so it leaves me lonely I feel the greed, so I leave it alone. Monsters are growing, they seem to be as usual, known as humans, cosmic masters are ready, a time will arrive. A germ will develop to curb the human of it’s destructive ways I’ve no idea why we are called civilisation. When we beat one another down, so I wait to go. I find a path where no one goes, I climb, there is a bend in the road and a stone platform.

Ready, elevated, I stand upon this. There are ten minutes to shut my eyes I think of so called society and what it has done to families to root them in poverty, now I must breath in rhythm and close my eyes, the white light comes. A masters call, silent the wind desists. I am ready a shaft of light impregnates, my whole I’m enveloped by auric violet that is my pod, a golden disc rests above my head I am told to go others will follow, we are now done with earth, say goodbye.

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

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The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive