heartache – Page 2 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Kiss The Snow Of Mountains

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.

If As Matter…

If as matter we do return after death, then back to the beaches as grains of shiny sand caught as jewels by the sun, shimmering back at the living as a constant shifting puzzle augmented by wind, sea profound. Pulsing in magnetised gravity by a needy moon pulling rushed stellar moments to a receptive living over-mind, pondering in a space time continuum.

Mother Moon

The indifference of lapping water in a sealed land locked harbour, water, it laps goes backwards and forwards. Even mother moon has no impression upon this wind variable lagoon of intransigence, but thunder will come, changes will be be brought forth profound upon this semi stillness. The walls in this circle will be broken and once more the waters of life will flood back to the divine gravitates of an unchanging sea ruled by mother moon.

Housing Problems The Thoughts Of Mason Cult…Part 2.

When it comes to problems with housing in the overcrowded Terra of England it comes to mind that we are a realm of politically controlled snobs, who gives an owls hoot about the rickety housing ladder now missing many rungs, please do blame the legion of silver surfers and the greedy working class who exploited the never should have been right to buy it is properly built and administered social housing that should now be prominent. The working class have blotted there credentials by post industrial borrowing upon the over inflated ex council homes, thus blocking and stopping the council house supply chain.

The only reason it looks better than it did is down to the borrowing (shame on the banks.) The older generation have completely sold out the young, the disabled and mentally afflicted, but guess what folks, politicians love your votes so morals and principles go out the door. We are media driven class snobs in this country and try and survive under a pot boiling mix of jealous false friendship as a country we are finished.

Dear Editor Brexit The Breakfast Cereal

Like the iceberg the Titanic encountered this now strange country needs to put the engines into reverse with regard to the doomed Brexit ( which by the way sounds like a breakfast cereal ) .The future isolation of this country will spawn a country of cheap labour and homelessness for the poor. The biggest victims shall be the young who have been told in school to learn another language so they can travel around Europe to work and live. This breakfast cereal will be so hard to swallow and all because of the set attitude of the property rich baby boomers, who seem to hark back to a semi colonial past where cap doffing was the norm and poverty was everywhere, there needs to be a huge campaign to stay in the EU for future generations who are happy to use there education to break down barriers across not just Europe, but the entire world.

Yours Faithfully

Mason Cult The Warrior Poet