Money – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Another Tub Thumping Poetry Round Up

Our Father

Our father we’ve been trying to find you in heaven, but so far we’ve had no luck waiting for
the cloud on the left till it passes by, but nothing happened. I got my brother to shout but you took no notice. He said to me “you must be seeing things and by the way say hello I’ve been dying to meet him, why did it take so long Amen.”

New to the Garden

New to the garden here is the cat in your Disney moment, sitting calmly he approaches, he doesn’t talk but the eyes are doing a good job. Shall I be nice to you today I shall soon find out. Well an answer short and not so sweet came along he put his paws around my leg demanding that I shouldn’t move without speech. A cats idea of control at a glance well I can’t do that I’d be powerful if I could sigh to the wilderness.

The Swallows Defender

I am the swallows defender for the cat is around sitting sprawled upon the ground eyeing the solitary swallow. The birdie frets to be back in the nest where chicks wait, the swallow sits upon an old electrical wire and stares me out, I say hello there’s not a lot I can do. Meanwhile the cat waits but alas in vain no chicks falling today. However a plate full of dry food comes along happy kitty, the swallow thanks me with a wink, or is it my can of Eight Ace cider that causes me to see birds speaking.

Poetry Round Up from the Poetic Warrior

China Lights

China lights they’re coming to get you the lanterns will be landing they will take you all away in a paper bag they say the game is all wrapped up so sweet and sour it is out to do your noodle kit and kaboodle Boris the dish you are a chopstick we can handle you all the cats and dogs woof what a game.

We Own Nothing

Warning to dictators and omnipotent beings it is not my earth to own. For we own nothing beyond our lifestream, the claim has gone mankind must realise this the earth will become unforgiving of you for the mess and lives you ruin. You are but a nasty glitch in time your essences linger, no longer than your breath but the joy of life you ruin you will be reckoned on the seventh lifestream.

Coaching the Amina

Coaching the Amina what are the laws of attraction my mind ponders it deeply. My eye saw you, I picked you no idea what you will turn into my success rate isn’t too good but I’ll give it a go. Your dotted all over the world maybe I’ll approach you to try something different, need to try anything to break through the ties that bind me.

I Hold Within

I hold within a planet that can’t let go, it is without a purpose and currently, it requires a planet host to grow it wants to escape, it torments me, it spins faster. It wants to go I’m not from the earth of that I know, for therein lays another family on another planet something tells me I must find a home.

Mystical Phoenix

Better get used to silence for that is all there is, your mind is wiped like a psychic mystical phoenix caught in a higher moment in unfathomable time. In the distance, a deep pendant abides a faceless clock but over the years becomes louder to the ears right until the last second, and the wind she changes and drops to nothing then it all starts again for another day, yet I dare not think of tomorrow I haven’t finished with today, there is more to go as the moment passes as a clock ticks with pedantic slowness we build up, let us hope to make us cope in time. This world will change but I’m afraid it will be ten thousand years passeth and yet it doesn’t matter.

If Aliens

If Aliens are bad then where are the blessed ones it is hard to say, have they left us?. Have they vacated terra earth did the vision of the blessed one make them depart, what is to befall us all? Is earth indeed to be cleansed given rest for all it has suffered, there is panic around now and no time to talk. Streets are vacated where are the people. Has life has metaphorically gone to ground, cables wires, and satellites in the skies above, and who invented normal. What defines such a world now, that exists, in partial hiding. in rarified rooms of intensity, angst, and stagnation.

New Audio Poem Eastern Soldiers By Mason Cult

Eastern soldiers by the sea a million or more, I clambered to the high ground in the city the nightmare of invasion had now appeared. Inside the huge hotel I went,

A Collection of Poems by Mason Cult Part 2

Mason Cult Gazes at the Cod Liver Oil

Counting cod liver oil capsules, the bottle is so large my heart will never see it through. I often wonder if this is the plot, keep it going till we find a solution of which way to go. Oh the golden ovoids of these capsules oiling my daily internals, if I become fed up there is always my bike chain to consider.

Gravity

If gravity brings me down then I am doomed and ecological opportunists will have their way with me. In time I will decay and spread from beneath the trees that grow, from my rotting benefice. For they will stretch their limbs crack and grow in own time, I respond in seasons we still count the falling winter leaves. We will dance rise and fall in vortex round and around all trees. It is music made for tender ears of young emergence, for I only have words and wait for what sound nature transmutes in me, as one we shall be the tree and the dry leaves amongst new nature.

Comet

Comet, oh ye force of resistance, through the universe you go, with orders kicked back from a sun that didn’t tell you where to go. With eternal tail power so great and in wonder, power would be a small word energised by an absolute power you are fired to another world. With bursting plasma for a remote beach, upon a virgin planet unknown to earth. Or so I’m told in my ear. With that we have hope for new life and reemergence to re materialise on other world’s and my prayer has ended now.

I Am Old

I am old to the young and young to the old, I am that. Not much more than that, I breath I am conscious, well aware of the clock. But the hands are sticking they wearily move forward and can just about talk in these days of rusty language. I am bold for what have I to lose but another day, in an ever anxious and faithless people. In orbit some of us will fall off, spun to who knows where by degrees. Three hundred and sixty of them and do you know that the world never stopped, to let me off and there was no one to ask why, as the world which I’d left rotated in the non speaking universe.

Glory Consumption

From seed to glory consumption and death the seed, returns blowing and landing random. If it can the seed and freedom go together, perfect unit of production given by the grace of our creator. Its journey and locations prolific if not always ideal, but it shows that in abundance it can beat man and his symmetry of controls, upon a benevolent earth. An earth that continually forgives, that provides new green shoots beyond the darkest times beyond all wars that ravage the spirits and souls of the good lonely warriors of the mother earth.

When Daylight Comes

You are not allowed to have your eyes shut when daylight comes, denial of life it seems or depression has disallowed life. Not a curtain is twitched, life’s camera shutters are down, disowned, in a dampened day. Today we have a problem a common expression of populations. As violent dictators weight your lives with horrors that defy the description of human. But it is they that should be in fear, fear of the mighty sun exposing their deeds. So blinds can be lifted and righteous acts enacted for those with their eyes still closed on a sun kissed day.

Rustling Bushes

Rustling bushes upon the track, in the Forrest at last, on my own. Everything past or passing, no-one else there, thoughts; My mind open to receive, I am fortunate to see all this for another day. Mist evocations in early morn, a woodpecker taps the tree. Echoes emanating from movement. Travelling in etheric form. I am caught in this feed consuming of mind, a break, a gap in mixed green fauna. I determine a face there within. I travel across to see there is a face, familiar in vibration, a shadow on the cheeks, a sun and shadows bring me dimension and form. I turn away, for I know you in sadness. I will say no more. I shall gently walk away and continue upon this journey till I hear the cuckoo’s call.

My Fear

My fear for the smile and where it has gone. For it is now elusive but for the breathed of a whisper of a hair, blown away by chance, as random, as indiscriminate, rain on a half covered wreck of a roof. The faces now of concern but only for itself. It exists to survive in the millions of earth’s unhappy inhabitants, if the head had pounds painted upon them, then everyone would smile well at least once.