But I Wait For a Sign

I do not believe in anything but I wait for a sign, no distinctive movement for the decent, the concerned, the worried, those who lie awake. Feeling helpless at what to believe, the sky, the sun, are relentless every hour. The torturers come the media, the propaganda, and millions of mistrustful beings, tied to the cult of self. The Egyptian female obsession with the Cleopatra look, body distortion beyond any sense of safety or reason. The decent amongst us lie to our children and say it will be alright. Whilst they fret at what to believe coming from clever British politicians, from the same route and mould. But do not worry ordinary people will be back and maybe the lonely and vulnerable will find a friend that will make them live for another day. Amongst this world’s illness and grief your God will indeed come through the clouds and absorb your panic and dissolution, Amen for now, but not for ever more.

The Little People of The Sausage Roll Kingdom

 

 

 

They were looking for a home in the middle of a very dark and depressing winter. Being so tiny and few they needed food. Android, his shelter frightened of being trodden upon.  So this place had to be special and so safe and have a homely crusty roof with the finest food aromas for this the little people required a small home of much sustenance.

When the little people sneaked out in groups Dolly the little leader passed the best artisan bakery she could find, but the proprietor had to be presented with a word in his ear. So when Dolly found a very old shop she led her troop of little people in and proceeded to climb up the Bakers arm and have a word in his ear, he chuckled and made a suggestion, he said to Dolly “I will every day make for you a large sausage roll with a homely pastry roof, a hole in its dome and a door with a walkway at each side. You and your little people can pull tasty meat morsels from a sausage wall and the smell of tender seasoning will surround you.

There will be two pastry doors at either end and you can grab falling chunks of pastry warm and cooked. I will make these every day for you pronounced the baker eager to protect these special Devic Kingdom travellers who had to make it through a bleak winter, while on there way to The Forrest of plenty at Turkers Wood near the old city of York.

The baker also gave the little people wee cups of sweet fruit juices slightly warm to keep colds at bay, they survived merry beings, hiding behind cakes and drinks til the season changed so they could catch a breeze and tumble, rolling in balls unfolding in the fauna of the medieval wood, chuckling under the full moon in there pastry crumb beds preserved from the sausage rolls of the Artisans comforting winter shop.

Mason Cult. New YouTube Channel

A glorious Jolly Jape my lovelies as by popular his glorious poetry gets the Voice Over treatment, and we are proud to announce a new YOUTUBE CHANNEL

The classic Poem Stood a Man & His Young Daughter.

 

A poem to a love lost an Ode to Sophie. VO by Maria Cusick.

Nation Beware

Nation beware of the local political doctors, the deciders of the rationing of treatment begins, let’s take private dentists as an example, let me point to overriding NHS dentistry, once again they say that they are short of P.P.E equipment or none at all.

Are they as private providers in a better position to supply this, if you are one of the many NHS patients allowed to sit with the private patients on the list, one is told you cannot have essential treatment.  What of the private plan client are they allowed treatment.

A grey area, citizens of totalitarian Britain. We have a group of veiled Nazis in government but let them not forget the vote, both Tory and Labour can’t do without each other when it comes to political power, they and the increasing power of local authority control and the middle class busy bodies on community engagement forums, they are the new Mr and Mrs Bumbles poking their way into decanting community spy information and helping dinner party doctors in making the list of who in virus lock down world lives or dies. A sad world.

If the virus came from anywhere then it came from more than one country and more than one facility it could be termed as professional, medico societal, political, correctional murder.  The balance of the populations higher masonic I suggest are involved at every professional level, but sworn to threatening secrecy the poor and vulnerable are not offered an opinion. They are but a wiped morticians register board this government blatantly issued a media statement to the public, saying be prepared for the passing of many in the communities. But the poor are still too many, too many for the voices to be silenced . Boris Johnson is a media construct helped by Dominic Cummings and it is just a question of time before the whole deck of cards comes down and believe me there will be much much anger.

Dirty Sandwich.

Dirty sandwich I cannot eat, it will make me die. I never saw who made it, who is it, what are you, inside the rise of salad death. Of meat. I am weak, what happened, oh meat how bereft you are of amino acids. What is your protein chain. A serpent round a helix with wonders to perform.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive