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.
God preceded time, we invented divisions of time. As we evolved but we need not think of ourselves as clever, it is when one goes to sleep discovery is made being conscious in a troubled world is burdensome and extreme, we find peace somewhere else, some are yet to discover. Remember we are all transient beings much of our own invention and reinvention in a living world. No man is above another. We are driven, driven by primordial instinct. It is difficult to achieve but very easy to forget in a vortex of emotions.
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 great void I’ve found is nigh, but where’s my bridge? I hear a calling for which I try to answer. The lights won’t go on in the room; it is dark. I shout, “Where are you?” but no-one replies. It is all room-by-room, semi grey. I keep calling out, but there is something wrong with the room. A door is open there is a bed, sheets rolled back crumpled and distressed. All is in grey. Where am I ? Where is anyone? I don’t know this is past. I have yet to move on. I am within a holding station of sorts. I am with others who appear as shadows of their former selves, but no-one I identify with, for this was life. Where do I go now and what of others living, who by now know that I have gone? That desperate void is here with light as assumed not quite within and a window to be opened.
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.