Lord Almighty – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

May Of Africa A Political Rant.

It is now May of Africa forsaking the intelligent agendas and concerns of Brussels, Mrs May prefers to seek trade with countries that have appalling human rights records including genocide to name one. BRITAIN has been trading with the continent of Africa for centuries, the pitfalls are known already to most, Mrs May is looking for a pleasant Brevity but there isn’t one and I have this feeling this woman and her chums will keep this economy going even if this mean concessions for people coming from all over this world, especially in the ares of housing and opening the gates to more foreign people swelling an already overcrowded country such as Britain. So watch this space. Trade with other countries respectfully but don’t make big waves of trading more exclusively with Africa British people don’t want to lose their identity we have had year on year of this we can’t even house people in this country as it is in the year 2018,

Love and Care Away.

We don’t want your bodies just your sperm, women in their own right men now in their places picking up the pieces. The good men paying for the bad but the good ones go also as women cast love and care away. Sexless becomes a better description as of now equality is as status quo neither one way or the other.

If I…

If I am re-incarnated as a cat I will sleep upon cord jackets, I have now seen in my human life thus far the comfort and peace within the cat, two on one cord jacket curled in a mystic harmony and at the end of my time if I return as a cat trapped as I may feel in my new clothes I will curl on that cord jacket oh the calm

I Cry For The Celeb.

Do you remember crying in your beer for a dead star you thought you might know today. Do you cry for a celebrity who brings no joy, never makes you happy, but somehow does the business, whilst I sit with my ugly self-imposed version of doom

Pluto The Flat Cat That Went Splat.

An epitaph to the feline friend of Mason Cult.

Stone cats in the sun will they ever live again, feral destiny was never good my squashed cat friend has expired. His short coil now ended abandoned flat and no more, now his coat is his, all his soul has sped away.

We noted him, we will try to remember him, but I sense we will all be stiff one day. Our thoughts will be as rigid as our bodies it a price we pay for gods gift short or long, that is mortality for Pluto the tomcat he is dead.