Warrior of poetry

In Nothingness

In nothingness what is the motivation is faith blind when we cannot see all empires turn to dust only a few symbols remain and legend grows upon dead mantles if God is but an energy then why has it not noticed distress among the living human beings are nearly over and it is hard to justify tradition to control man the animal will die and will have learned nothing but how to die after the realisation comes to himself for more years than we as a collective remember.

Ghost Spore

Ghost spore you know something is wrong the daily feel is not too detachment of many sorts and nature you have no answer, but only one hunch it’s in the air at approximately 2.00pm so keep your windows shut and mind the gaps. Even the cat flap must be observed. For there are ghost spores sent whirled up and dropped, never mind the virus for this is the superior beware of nature’s dusts I tell you, host spores are here and no government will stop them and so want a darker world keep posting, and keep a pouting, look serious, look aggressive and I assure you it will happen. Smile all please smile from now on, laugh create the ground and the thought for the new feelings, interplanetary cuddle we all need it. Let it happen just of this moment I prey collectively.

Time Enough

Time enough I said spin me me up I wait upon Turkers track for my special vortex which is already spinning for my salvation. I prefer the energy; I need to withstand the force that is unknown to me at this time, for I will soon know as I gently walk watching my last sunset I am going to planet Vixor. Those are my orders I have been instructed by my master’s this will serve me well. I see a light upon this track and I must follow the energy it arrives; I go. 

In a Moment

Early one particular morning while exiting an outside toilet facility of ye olde Warrior of Poetry he became caught up in a moment, he turned to his left and whilst doing so he became caught in an instant. His body became charged in a flash, behold a brown figure materialised for a fraction in time. This figure not of humankind had no face and appeared to frighten the wordsmith. His body electrified for a split earth second there are many more of us, this was the inception. For the briefest of moments, this was a visitor in time.

Clocks

Clocks tick by without me, I know of this for. I am within my own time and yet outside all other dimensions, a difference of sorts but essential, as if not the journey will not start. For I will become trapped, as others are among the weeds and the bushes. Post apocalyptic sufferings we came to this point because we let it happen. We had stopped talking there were no feelings left, just posed expressions, and no one knew how to be, so I remained focused ready for the faraway galaxy, yet another world beckoned.

Worship

Worship at the door but which door for there are seven they have no name upon them they are heavy, hard, more than wood but not quite metal, so what or who is behind the seven doors. But there are ways to enter and this starts in the inner light of your mind we should all obtain this and breathing is the key set the nerve ganglia in your spine alight and tune into your vortex chakras to find out then may these doors to the Adepts be open.

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