Tag: Poem

Another Poetry Selection From Warrior of Poetry.

Neptune’s Friend

Neptune’s friend now a spirit drifting within a dense cloud, hiding. I always wondered when in mortal time what it would have been like to go fishing on a boat in wild seas. How brave and maybe mindless is is it to rise and fall in the search for slick shiny protein we call fish.

Oh skill, bravery and tenacity reign in all forms but nothing more brave than the stoic warrior of the fishing seas. The fisherman his biblical struggle for a staple of your feed. I zone in from the clouds to the boat deck with the manic endeavours of the day. I sensed rising and falling I couldn’t be sick as I was a spirit now flowing in the slicks of wind and rain. I was with the fishermen till they headed for home to the shoreline and safe harbour and I thought in my spirit form who shall I join next for another day. Upwards I transcend to hide within the cloud, to be free again.

Rooms With a View

Rooms with a view and how much more do we need, I really mean it. Many of the troubles that we have today are due to the uneven distribution of land and the convincing methods of control this has. Nobody should have to live in a tower block but they do. How is that enjoyable battery hens are kept this way they have problems for sure they do.

It’s a parachute for a garden and a lift from terra firma alright or otherwise death is not too pleasant so why is this an acceptable form of living. Surely it is not, but the idea remains half a mile to the clouds . Something needs to change but at this point in time I’m stuck for an answer, surely so called intelligent planners cannot continue with these results. We know of one of the most immoral results being in the form of Grenfell Tower, finally over the planners desks one comes up with this suggestion to deliver us from such horrors alas however where there is no sense, there is no feeling, are these people possessed. Think hard brothers and sisters of the lives lost.

Milestone

Milestone of a redirected discovery, that of truth and love. To live forever side by side seen on the future horizon far in a cosmic sky. Starlit pods explode cascading down and all around, dazzling and bemusing. The earth moves once more in a new revolution inspired by good and bold, young and old together we go kinder citizens of the world in new hope stand, be inspired in vortexes of starlight and let us go live.

Rainy

On a rainy black road of glistening rain, I glance the protruding stock window frames stand proud one window stands out for what is within it is but a landscape, upon this wall. So many sitting inside this wall mural has on its door the guarantee of escape. Narnia on the wall, tell me are we all that desperate now to escape from the inner house, do I believe it. Oh yes I would like too.

That I Know

There are too many of us of that I know. We have run out of words, I know that too. It is disturbing I know that also. We are watching exterminators every day we see that I know as well. We are watching, this is happening for verily I know. The wheel turns that is also known, forever on the world watching waiting and aye yond is eke known as the bard wouldst sayeth I’m here living for the moment and aye I knoweth yond v’ry much, Shakespeare stirs the Bard within me.

Warrior of Poetry Poems For You Ep1.

The Alien of All Nations

The Alien of all nations returns emerging from Sumarian days upon the back of the Ashaki, humans will be alienated as future records reveal, the final count was down for all humans within a viral storm of atomic proportions. Not since Indra’s dart had such a time come by pluming as it went . Not one human was high enough born to be saved or reborn, dark days indeed ensued onward blind and unsteady. Even the benevolent sun was reluctant to rise above the chaos to heal. So those hiding alive waited for the alien who we were told was on its way, but then we were told lots of things and alas we are still wanting.

In Auras From a Moon Deep

The ambiguity of shadows in Iteration of the night time errors in auras, from a moon deep and full but not blinding. White is she of purity and deep pulse. A demon in the visions of gravity upon seas rush to the shore. Tall houses of lapping waves crash and fearful passers by upon this sight rush for higher ground, to suddenly turn around and witness how close you came to being carried out to nothingness. For this is what we become so I build a sandcastlewhen the sun comes out in tomorrow’s Monday blinking calm.

Monk Head The Paranoid Keeper of Pigeons, Blink Twice & Man of Soil

An hilarious poem of pigeons and paranoia in modern Britain

Blink Twice

Blink twice I thought I saw something near the window is it the past checking in to see who’s there maybe there are more nosey spirit checkers I wonder if I will be one when my time arrives for now I will sit occasionally casting my vision to the left field or could it just be that t shirt in the mornings wind if we are lucky we’ll see

Deep in the lonely wood a timber shed existed a rocking chair tucked in the corner the figure of soil recreated as man sat in this chair…

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.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive