written – Page 5 – The Warrior of Poetry: The Poetry archive

Dear Editor Brexit The Breakfast Cereal

Like the iceberg the Titanic encountered this now strange country needs to put the engines into reverse with regard to the doomed Brexit ( which by the way sounds like a breakfast cereal ) .The future isolation of this country will spawn a country of cheap labour and homelessness for the poor. The biggest victims shall be the young who have been told in school to learn another language so they can travel around Europe to work and live. This breakfast cereal will be so hard to swallow and all because of the set attitude of the property rich baby boomers, who seem to hark back to a semi colonial past where cap doffing was the norm and poverty was everywhere, there needs to be a huge campaign to stay in the EU for future generations who are happy to use there education to break down barriers across not just Europe, but the entire world.

Yours Faithfully

Mason Cult The Warrior Poet

Masters In High Chairs A Commentary

The conspiracy and control and how this keeps the masters in their high chairs from the monarchy to feudal landlords, the banks governments national and local, it is all there to control and regulate as a world population spreads out of control.

In this heavy mix the greatest form of denial is that of a roof over ones head be it as a singleton or family, there is now a not so hidden state of homelessness, does society care I doubt it, those upon the streets are viewed as almost byproducts in the gutter a strong statement to make I know, but that is where we are in so-called society.

We also happen to be living in a judgmental and formulaic society where the only ways to move along in life are the prescribed ones usually driven by fear and failure through the conduit of politics and devious media and obvious peer pressure, there appears to be few exceptions to the dogmatic nature of passage and the greatest failure of the prescribed systems, more often than not they miss some very gifted humans who are on the Autism Spectrum I will not add to this the condition of Aspergers Syndrome as the identifier Hans Asperger is now known to have collaborated with the nazi regime in the extermination of disabled children.

To The Glory Of Poor

To the glory of but the poor remain so have to refrain from anger but it boils today not as yesterday, this is now restless and wanting a heavy stone becomes heavier oppression becomes suppression of supposed intent of control and timing the royalist distractions.

Events to cover all horrors of harm and unseen destitution, the poor have lost the voice banging against the transparent screen, voiceless in the assemblage components as big signals make deeper impressions, but somehow a quiet crying is alluded as dark confetti fills the street in protest presence without voice.

What Remains

The legacy of a strong presence, it had been a long time since we had visited a cottage called Cold Place, mud and dust, global spider webs over objects abounded the key turned a faltering mechanism.

A soft creaky push opened the door so heavy it had momentum of it’s own we lit ancient scented candles as we weaved through a cobweb menagerie of damp furniture toward two gentlemanly high back chairs that faced one another in gloom, with a black leaded fireplace we both sat cold in bold dampness but all the while a buzzing was a niggling away at our senses, profound as if some inevitable awakening was coming to greet us and it did, the fire combusted to life wind broke through, dry rot window frames all that was damp unfurled itself. Dry cobwebs blew sucked by a moving internal vortex the family wished us back.

Eastern Soldiers

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, I had greased all entrance points windows and elevated to the highest point of the complex. Occasionally peering across the vista to observe the encroaching mass of green uniforms, the number was increasing I headed for the tropical flat roof with its resplendent shimmering pool aware of my dwindling freedom.

I could hear the noise further down in the complex, I just hoped that they were not looking at the the power usage monitoring so I searched for the solar panels. Much of this city had now fled and the power base of the country had now ran, we had
courted the southern countries and now they had arrived, we were the last to be taken.

Now they were enveloping every space of this small island, trouble is that they have also located me, so I will sit here in my unreal world til my rooftop door is knocked down
and then I will see a million more goodbyes I am fading fast and at last a bullet found me fast…