Sat down in the wood a parting through the trees I look up, I see high above pepperpot puffy clouds pulsing I realize that these are not clouds but alien convoy craft mimicking cloud it took me a while to realize. I felt fear for the sheer size of the convoy was mesmerizing I felt a tingle in every part so high were they, ready to surge outside the atmosphere of this planet it felt all for me. It was only for me, I thought as if no one else had seen this. This thought had existed for some time now every day alive when looking up it had produced a connection with what I had seen high above and occasionally below apparent clouds. Drifting but some shapes clearly seemed to hold more significance than others. But on this day sat between the trees in Turkers Wood I had noted that Alien Craft had been lingering in the atmospheric parking lot above, and it was not just naturally occurring cloud form. Was I now to be from this day hunted or left alone a partial fear struck. So overbearing would this fear become that I felt alone in a world that does not see.
Warrior of Poetry, online poetry archive. 
By Mason Cult Poet
Mason Cult Poet was born in Westmorland in the Lake District in a farming engineering community. On one side of the family many portions of nobility mainly the Stuarts. Mason Cult did as the herd does and went through the education process. attended drama school and ran small businesses. The stigma of mental health issues blighted him as it does with all creative people, was diagnosed in 2011 with a form of Asperger’s Syndrome which can impair executive function however it has given him a higher sense to see what others do not and from this ability he concludes the world is controlled by esoteric forces and that other interventions operate steering the world we know ro a new beginning.. What we witness we are forced to challenge and the work of Mason Cult assists this