God Given Air & The Giant of Turkers Wood

God Given Air

How much happier I would have been just to enjoy the God given air, I had been given for life, no searching endlessly for truths that never existed for the world was full of lies. That exploited my state of being so walk freely for awhile till avenues are choked off by the procession of life hordes. Now growing from the carnal nests of bricks and mortar, the endless product of ghost machined fornications disguised in a word called love. Which dies by the day as the language developed the continual mother of survival, in that love might conquer all and save us from the fire pit of an oncoming atomic revelation, that ultimately leaves nothing. With no-one in existence to hear the resultant void in evolutions path.

The avenues of alterations they are many and they are long some are straight and some may wind they will go up and some may go down there will be circles and they go around to another direction routes ceaseless abound turmoil endless the way out unknown forever and ever we are now alone.

The Giant of Turkers Wood

The origins of the God of the pack roar in Turkers Wood . There had been for awhile seated in the Devic Kingdom a mysterious giant a hairy nine foot giant only ever seen by a farmer who is now gone. The strangest fact is that when this giant moved he was difficult to detect and so one could say you might have seen something. But then again not he certainly wasn’t a beast the leader of the Pack Roar had an assistant a Devic mite called hand who took instruction from a wandering adept, one of seven who roamed the world looking for locations to allow salvation for good people. Together for twenty years the God of the Pack Roar and Hand had been developing a new world a thousand feet underground, the giant creature made mounds for hills, painted sky bored water made into steam clouds. All kinds of growing mediums developed within, along with extracted members of a chosen few from colour codes dressed according to roles given by the instructed hand and the might to move earth, the great infuser of generated underground environment. This is truly the new world hidden beneath an ever increasing surface full of hatred. Burning killing and looting the greatest mission was to keep the entrance hidden and only lead in occasional guest who would be temporarily and blindfolded upon entry.

The Sun

The sun shines upon the lonely Lilley, as creation hides, but beneath in still waters of evolutions, there are but thousands of Lilley’s upon these still waters. In what is a silent day in a summertime of change hiding under a bright white canvas of still nature, on dark waters, deep a solitary bird lost from its flock, relates an unknown message on a dry branch. On the shore of this lake of silence, as secrets remain in this voiceless void of an entity upon water

Author: 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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