tories – Page 3 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

The Lonely Boy & All Purity Gone.

The lonely boy who has no fear pigeon post upon a windows ledge, pitched message in a tiny scroll, tied it…a sash window opens, a hand reaches out, a minute message rolls out it says look up my child unto the infinities.

I have answers to your worries on a worldly scale it says, cast all aside and part the clouds, come to me on high. I will pull you through from thoughts of despair to repair the damage of man in his demonic days.

I will set you free in a million golden sunflowers pointing to our life gods sun in aura to be blessed and healed away from harm and condemnation, to radiate within a joy you’ve never felt so far. I will hold you and there will be know more fear within in the loving benevolence of the one truth I give you now for all the love you have missed.

All Purity Gone

All purity gone don’t run away it won’t catch up anytime soon harbour ropes cut your drifting in wide open sea in your wooden raft no compass now barely a wind to cast you to shore sun beams into your core only a shoreline will save your soul in a sea of wrath.

Mason Cult a Man of Sixth Sense.

Mason Cult a being of superior intuition has noticed the ever increasing levels of sex crimes in the media every hour. Every waking moment of each and every day, the stakes were thus that under Mason’s mind microscope these sex crimes were coming up as something else, indeed the plot was truly thickening it occurred to Mr Cult that these sex crimes were the failed mating attempt of clumsy faulty aliens, the progeny before and before, that this was mistake, after mistake. Not unveiled as yet, this was truly evil at work and is every day now to be seen but nothing declared or revealed, yet as this would compromise national and international security.

Mason Cult Poems For The Modern Hell The Ideal Xmas Pressie.

The mind of maverick poet Mason Cult, grappling the hell of modern living, poetic despair and deep thinking. Mason at his most difficult and reflective moods in his fourth poetry book from the Peoples Republic of Yorkshire. Feel the anger as Mason battles against modern life or the modern hell of living as he often calls it. No matter how stressful life gets there is always time for poetry.

Advent of Dawn

Advent of dawn in the light of the lenses shining upon droves of trailing wanderers emerging from dawn mists in greys, apparel from where we know, not yet disturbing shadows, casting men twice with a trailing spirit that follows. Dragging strained and forever more I turn to watch as thousands of shadowed grey souls disappear again into evening mists.

Tree Brothers

So far my tree brothers and sisters have not defended ourselves in the forest, lungs of the world that we are. Pushing and sensing we grow for a century or more in that time we develop senses a type of sight, we have energy within and even inform you in our rings as to the passing of years, dose that not make you think, put your ear to us and feel the pull of our energy. Yes we look awkward and funny to look at in our random poses, you can even hide or shelter under our summer canopies and we cast our cushion of medallion leaves upon earth ground and do not forget our spinning seeds given to earth man for eternity…as you wander through the forest, we whisper and we know.