I Saw Your Shadow

I Saw Your Shadow


I saw your shadow so I thought I’d retreat, there was nothing to say all blown away the wind rolled us like a carpet. We’d had blanket coverage we were not famous anymore we had done with lifetime served and we threw the clock away. No hands were moving, no tick went with the tock the land was his after the third war, let’s hope our spirits survived for our shadows were forever painted on a wall. Yet our very souls were saved I don’t like things so final however I found this pathway, climbing between the high clouds. It is only me I made a fluffy shape I’m gone and this cloud vanished far away from the mayhem

Upon the river bank in the manner of the bard

Th’re wast upon the riv’r bank a pile of soil transmut’d if ‘t be true thee wouldst indulge me, into a heapeth of emotion laying within. T wast a warmeth day and the travelling lamp did beat down something inside did want to breaketh out of the soil, t vibrat’d and did tremble across the riv’r wide and ranneth at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white lily hath moved into the riv’rbank all high-lone and bobbing, t suddenly did turn upside down and expos’d t’s delicate roots searching f’r a new life, t struggl’d a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dryeth did crack soil, f’r inside new life wast waiting and a voice from above bellow’d “tell those in the silv’r cautel we has’t new life. ” as the riv’r hath carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life wast b’rn

There was upon the river bank a pile of soil transmuted if you would indulge me, into a heap of emotion laying within. It was a warm day and the sun beat down something inside wanted to break out of the soil, it vibrated and trembled across the river wide and ran at seventeen nautical knots wide a single white Lily moved into the riverbank all alone and bobbing, it suddenly turned upside down and exposed it’s delicate roots searching for a new life, it struggled a plenty stretching to penetrate the vibrating crumbling mound of dry cracked soil, for inside new life was waiting and a voice from above bellowed “tell those in the silver craft we have new life.” as the river carried on in continuity annulling the brown soil casing whilst new life was born.

Xmas Poetry & Audio Poems Ep 1.

Audio Poems

Tramps are everywhere…
Hurried Stuff, mother is in the living room.
It’s Grim Up North

A Time.

A time when nothing is in your hands, manipulation occurs, from another source. It comes to visit by surprise it does so in doses to convince you literally your mind is not your own wait. And you will feel them sleep, then see forever.

Boys Who Were Kings

Boys who were kings at ten, now sit on their own, when they were old and grey cobwebs were spun around the stiffness as the chair rocked to and fro a long nose of nobility hit the shadows, the lightbulb swung. A shadow in the gap where once burned a fire in the once living hub of familial energy, a forefinger raised still above the right chair. Arm pointing, but the direction has gone. A figure walks past the glassless window a cool white full moon is helping the voice shouts out “anyone at home” “silence man, the king is dead close the door”. All reposed nothing to report

Hurried Stuff

Hurried stuff dark rainy day strained brain sat on me Todd watching a wheeze of a sixties slice of life semi biopic of the cultural time now gone it is but madness Norman Bates is here mother are you alive or dead no it is a slipper behind the door , where is mother she is but with axe ready in the front room still watching soaps whilst I’m still in a lather looking for an open door

Latest Audio Poems By Laidlaw Wilson AKA Mason C

Turning the dial up on my ear that is what I have to do…who would have thought this was my essential connection with outer life…
It was it and it is out there, up there, somewhere in a circular field a gathering
The I before the me what are we, in one with one…
The Spooks visit loon Laidlaw who has been abducted by aliens and taken to Mars…he objects to the UFO cover up.
Sons of the euphoric mind that is the one, there work never done…
The night the cat found a spirit, the spirit of who indeed…
If man cannot stand without his props he is therefore not a man…

I Had Never & Army of the Outfall & Dr Mason

Many years passed in our conventional world’s and time was near for what became known as the great unlocking I was instructed through the deepest of meditations to reach out to one of the universal portals where I was to mentally connect with those travelling a similar path.

I had never in my short life of travel had knowledge of these others, so refreshed I would be by this awakening that my nervous system tingled aloud to me, In the strangest of ways, it was almost an anticipation of living forever which I was scared and sceptical about .

But on an evening of the brightest star ever seen, several white glow domes approached in a line before our group of mediators each portal opening drawing what would be new incumbents of a new dawn, drawn to transformation by powerful meditations. Crown chakras were definitely growing and glowing above our auras and our perception levels arose beyond our imagination, beings were being taken by cosmic Adepts. We were not of earth blood anymore and the journey to the new life streams had begun to call this heaven.

Army of the Outfall

Army of the outfall wrath of society that is dead if not rotton to the core deep within the veins of man in in the last century voiceless legless and armless earth absorbs the god head in the in the form of sun and it’s magnetic intervention the last days of earth , funny isn’t it earth isn’t aware we are on it she doesn’t grumble but does react like the atom man altered for destruction .Though the time is poised we are again nearing the edge of destruction before the void appears that man will never breach again to survive as he has always managed to do but this time he me and you that is will be gone and with that any sense of importance with it back to the swirling god’s in the nebular we will go waiting for absolutes direction earth will have a notional sense of release from our destruction.

Dr Mason

Dr Mason, will see you now part of the plot you see. Dr Mason isn’t a Doctor you see, not in the general term of meaning. Dr Mason is one of many and many more working in the national bubble information trawler and twister attempting to put the average person into a panic, twisted sworn to secrecy and oath Dr Mason knows of the plot and the plan but it is worth more than his own life and time.

The world of secrets is drawing the gullible along a path of possibly no return and the final NHS record for millions, nothing since the days of the third Reich has such a secret plan been juggled into action. Dr Mason is only part of it as there many more Dr Masons involved. What we are desperately waiting for is one to break rank so we can start to breath once more and find our voices in what is supposed to be a democracy of sorts. Followed by a public enquiry and and the vast swamp of lodge politicians then brought to trial for misleading a country amidst the web of Corona virus pandemic panic. Dr Mason by the way retired.

A Rumble

There is a rumble deep in outer space, in anger it amasses nothing else is known, it is for now trapped and there exists anger that cannot be revealed. At this moment man is so ignorant trying to save himself like every living thing. He and IT, fear death but we cannot stop fear and God is a difficult concept not seen but at the same time all around in random action. Known as the work of God but every day now if you listen in a quiet moment you will detect this deep rumble, the remixing of atoms has begun we just wait for the vaporising white light and all will be gone again but this time no evidence remains.

In Wind

In wind, in pockets of wind, it comes in clouds, in fluffy clouds, it comes, spores, seeds, pellets of doom. Blown by wind to a stop, on a calm day, in a calm way. We are not liked down here down there and everywhere it comes glancing, dancing about your face. Pushed deep and upward to your brain a virus of many disturbing disturbances with nothing else to do. Self mutating and proliferating, postulating for the storm the tsunami, the mother of darker evolution from the clouds mouths open and blowing.

The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive