celeb – Page 7 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

I Lived As A Seed

The day prior to this one now in history or timeless nothing, I lived as a seed. I felt my growing. I felt a bud to a leaf in my veins. I was thrown about this, all in my ear and nothing else. I felt my fall lightweight to the ground. I was crisp, the dead leaf was I.

A foot I felt, that crunch me down. I was part of it all and someone walked over me. I felt the crunch but I knew before long I would be something else. I heard that and it excited the being within, my karma and I was in journey to another life, dear leaf I made it, I transcended upwards. Will I be dog or cat, or human on the wheel of life.

Many Years Ago & Uneven Town

Many years ago I attended a Unite course in Leeds. I was shocked at how individualised suppose Socialists were, no comradeship interaction, by this time I realised Thatcher had done her job it was turning people away from collective thought and into pale Tories this I believe was through the right to buy. Ascending prices, extra money on the back of false speculation upon houses, was turning the working class man into a monster. I find the attitudes mind boggling as we all die and unless one is an ascended master or adept little else . So the human state is to blame and unless man rids himself of petty difference he will never be any more a friend to his fellow human. Man will be forever this grasping monster on the back of increasing dystopia and wanton melancholy, let the idealism talk again, in meeting rooms and other amenable venues but will this return, is the world making fat too much of electronic communications, Mason Cult The Warrior poet and Amateur Metaphysics Writer

Uneven Town

The uneven Town however you walk it is always up, but its a long way down, you think you’ve arrived but you never know where you are and not a soul speaks a glance is all it takes all walking to the ascension Temple.

The Compound

Thousands of restless souls remained in compound at secret locations after death, these were named as restless souls. They moaned but no one could hear them their earth bodies now gone there seemed precious little to hope for seemingly abandoned in the voids of a timeless zone . They all at one time had some form of earth family and sore and sadly was it sensed by them but as promised they would be claimed and saved cubes of white lights could be vision by these lost souls . The restless ones gradually gravitated from this time toward the shimmering cubes an opening door appeared and pure enlightened beings for each cube beckoned each soul gestured for each soul to be drawn in to new enlightenment and on to another life stream.

New Merchandise Section For Mason Cult

Dear Poem Lover,

I am pleased to announce Ikon Gallery are launching a new merchandise section, that has my art on clocks and bags etc, they make a novel gift for the Mason Cult fan base.

Check it out…

Mason Cult Shop

Yours in poetic bliss…

Mason Cult

When The Vessel Has Died & Breathing Constant Creation.

When the vessel has died and gone, where is mind has it conquered over this organ or is mind somewhere else beyond seen boundary. Is it mixed or returned, solitary, vulnerable, shaped, by good or evil. Upon a mountain exposed is the skull of a philosopher, the howling wind blows through sockets like the thousands of sheep that died by his side. Did they join his flock or are they indeed just remnants of the dead, all that seems to be left is a lock of hair, for mortal man was indeed made of flesh and even to this day destination fucked will be upon us like a hurtling express train.

Breathing Constant Creation

Breathing constant creation, taking and giving, where panic and sense of mortality meet, who do we think we are, an element of something shared for a time with others, a teasing glimpse of enlightenment and fleeting entitlement. Like the bee taking nectar from flower heads, as changing to the power of honey sweet and temporarily consuming the cosmic breath of time.