The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive
The Poetic Warrior Returns to his Poetry after Illness Welcome One, Welcome All
A short story for kids as Susie Swan saves the wood from General Snail…
This is about my father County Councillor John Wilson a native of Scale House Farm Galgate Lancaster who died in 1973 suddenly age 44 yrs wouldn’t mind it read out sometime sadly missed.
In 1957, the Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan told a Conservative rally in Bedford that the people of the UK had never had it so good. It may seem as though we are more distant than ever from the days of the post-war boom, just before the swinging sixties crashed into the seventies and on to the demolition of industry under Thatcher. For example, now more than 100,000 people have lost jobs due to the impact of the government’s response to the corona virus pandemic. Young people see dreams crushed due to failings in the exam system and the prospect of a no deal Brexit is written about in the pen of the doom-mongering journalists.
Yet, I will argue that, despite the tragic trail of the virus, we have, in fact, never had such a great opportunity to reflect, rebuild and restore this country as a centre for industry and to build a much fairer and more socialist state. We need the government to commit to a policy of buying British; supermarkets to be encouraged to invest in UK produce, which is guaranteed by stringent UK quality control. Our universities have shown magnificent flair in working towards finding a vaccine for the virus and distance learning opportunities have flourished. We need to invest further into research opportunities and technology. With technology comes all the requisite sub-industries and trades. Our young people are willing to work and need apprenticeships that lead to jobs. The care sector can flourish if its staff are paid better for the hard work they undertake. Yet this renaissance needs to be centrally controlled.
Now we have left the EU and learnt how unwise it is to have a country that depends so greatly on the service sector, we can repair the damage done over the past fifty years. In 1957, we may have had a flourishing economy, but it flourished largely because nationalised services and industries formed the backbone of the economy and led to a robust infrastructure. If we aim towards the instigation of a more socialist government with a policy for egalitarian investment and nationalisation then once again, we can have it good we can have it very good indeed.
The mind of maverick poet Mason Cult, grappling the hell of modern living, poetic despair and deep thinking. Mason at his most difficult and reflective moods in his fourth poetry book from the Peoples Republic of Yorkshire. Feel the anger as Mason battles against modern life or the modern hell of living as he often calls it. No matter how stressful life gets there is always time for poetry.
It is now May of Africa forsaking the intelligent agendas and concerns of Brussels, Mrs May prefers to seek trade with countries that have appalling human rights records including genocide to name one. BRITAIN has been trading with the continent of Africa for centuries, the pitfalls are known already to most, Mrs May is looking for a pleasant Brevity but there isn’t one and I have this feeling this woman and her chums will keep this economy going even if this mean concessions for people coming from all over this world, especially in the ares of housing and opening the gates to more foreign people swelling an already overcrowded country such as Britain. So watch this space. Trade with other countries respectfully but don’t make big waves of trading more exclusively with Africa British people don’t want to lose their identity we have had year on year of this we can’t even house people in this country as it is in the year 2018,
No matter how clever one is there is always something you will never know, if your feet touched the ground of every named country upon the planet or kissed the snow of mountain tops, you would never consume all found knowledge. Could this be our imperfections revealed, a frustration I cannot scratch that itch of human discontent.
To the enquiring minds of the seekers if the word, as it is named as truth, within divisions or hierarchies unknown, one has opinion as poles apart, one humans vision is just a constant star in the nighttime sky in another land upon a different night.
I have likened us to ants, but a trifle more clumsy our minds and discoveries, not always for the best. As countless in numbers our wars do attest, to under the god of light the sun, the master of life or death when revealed, more unleashed than ever in times of now within and under ozone depleted screens of a damaged ionosphere.