No Man’s Land

No Man’s Land it all is from now to wherever no man will ever rule again, waiting for those chosen and those left and those chosen they wait hidden in hides. Submerged these are pick up points for tomorrow they wait, men and women pockets of good against the greedy prototypical that have destroyed earth for thousands of years. So many unseen, we have been tried and tested found wanting and this species must vacate. So the clock is set and soon the ascending will start extraction and the gnashing of teeth will be heard, but it is the only way.


Vortex wheel spinning of many colours, colours that travel for all, make a better man or woman maybe nothing at all. Indeed is this experiment coming to pass in overload, the same madness happens. War, famine, peace for awhile. yet the planets are adjusted, life forms brought forward to be approved by a thing unknown. Silent yet in mass moving as a liquid, the mixture within deposited secreted upon all silent shores, pulsing under the glistening full moon.


The house is so full of ghosts the door won’t close, did you know this oh Gillian Anderson of X Files fame, they all had a happy time but it is now hollow pleasure, as these ghosts can only get a sense of time gone, but never had they been brighter than in Hook House on Bromley Street Mr Hollow is the only live relative and now to the ones gone before, but now he knows every one of his former beings.

Gathering my resistance in the homeostasis day by day, dust by dusk, it settles footprints and finger prints. I make it, builds it layers, lovely over all shapes only the cats are clean and oblivious to the way it goes. The huge TV in large dazzling pixilation’s of projections, the shaft of light strobes through the gap in old draped curtain dust. Falling particles are stunned as they fall over hours the TV giving virus talk, but here is just a building resistance in the homeostasis my impression remains constant and growing, in this seat tell me, am I dead.

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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