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One has not a house or garden nor fence to jump over, no hedge to piss upon, sofas fridges fences, fat bins, bills & papers, bottles, cans waste, upon the wasted,

Covered in but a hand, showing half dead destitute in delirious mortgage madness. To keep with the Jones with do strive,

Covers the garden, the bank manager calls at no 10, I guess one comb one’s hair was this an important thing, a universal man you are now a credit to the nation. Mason Cult.

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