Alien Vortex

For hundreds of years now pollution has been building, collecting above us, trapped in layers of many years and that is when the reverse vortex comes in, it identifies levels and strength of pollution the tornado of hope within sucks the pollution in rotation from the point of entry and takes it miles upwards to be released in outer space new cloud renews again as the mysterious hand in the sky continues its guardianship.

Alert Invader

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Alert invader all you had to do was get out and stretch your legs who is it today grandma cousin or friend, a journey through the mountains and the passage of time, whoosh, wish blink, blink, town lamp shadows. Light & dark cats eyes and counting the angst of parents with pursed lips, one driving, asking of themselves what are we doing, the child is lonely. Mason Cult.

 

 

 

No Hedge To Piss Upon

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One has not a house or garden nor fence to jump over, no hedge to piss upon, sofas fridges fences, fat bins, bills & papers, bottles, cans waste, upon the wasted,

Covered in but a hand, showing half dead destitute in delirious mortgage madness. To keep with the Jones with do strive,

Covers the garden, the bank manager calls at no 10, I guess one comb one’s hair was this an important thing, a universal man you are now a credit to the nation. Mason Cult.

Of The Barren Lands…

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The new course of the Barren lands and chances for the pioneers of clean lands, free from feudal infusions and control. A new land where higher intelligence brings forth clarity and peace only selected population’s remain, never again was the world populations to breed themselves to destruction, harmony and peace were descending in a gentle cloud, Mason Cult .

Trying For The Next World & Hatred In Their Eyes Two Short Poems.

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Trying For The Next World.

Pushing my fingers distorting the plasma I was desperately trying for the next world I could see it all in the lovely colours, but there were people chasing me aware of what I was trying to find and it was only a matter of time before they turned a corner and could see what I was trying to do, I had to break through , Mason Cult

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Hatred In Their Eyes.

I see nothing gentle, it is almost entirely crude, it has hatred in it’s eyes it walks, talks it  wants and destroys, breeding and needing are its game it is us and I am not a clown. Mason Cult

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive