Yet More Poems For Our Fab Archive

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In With The Soup

In with the soup and into the sea, we will one day dissolve and nothing will we be, in and out with eternal universal tide stretching and reversing. Rolling on and off uninhabited beaches. All a sound of itself to no-one else does it bother the language. Is sound and frequency with Auric Horns grey and weathered now and to themselves they answer, we are gone.

If I…

If I conquer my fears when the time is nigh, I might get through whilst sat on a stone here upon dying earth, now baking in the final years, each country now closing and dying by trapped heat for decades so called man did not see or sense the damage. But you must know by now that without feeling there is no sense to speak of. I was promised by a tall wandering stranger that I would reach final destination if I remained on this stone. Hot by day freezing by night it is lonely but I will wait .

The Toffee Hammer People

Revenge of the pixie toffee hammer people and the gang of smalls. There existed in a small woodland cottage surrounded by dense trees a group of Devic warriors that you could not really see. They were noisy with a tiny cackle, but what was aided would be nonsense to most if a woodland hunter slithered by in the moonlight. The silly sounds could be heard along with mouse and owl and other things .The Pixie toffee hammer people would often borrow a toffee hammer from the elderly ones who resided in the cottage, for so many years now and never realised the hammer vanished at times. The toffee hammer people would proceed to an unusual farm to procure small eggs from bantam hens then they would wisp back near the cottage, ignite one of their tiny fires crack and cook the eggs share the food. The toffee hammer was returned to a bowl in the cottage and no-one would be any the wiser for what was never seen The pixie toffee hammer people would then go and snore in the greenhouse.

The Alien Seeds

The Alien seeds absorbed into the souls of my feet, perfectly. With that I began to change it is as if I began to secretly grow a second skin, a form of replication with altered mind potential, ,talking was less essential and was effort for many tasks. It was if I was now posted by a higher energy in the midst of this subtle change. I was embedded with a time to meet in the wood, with the scout education vessel low and humming in the dead of night. No moon was visible just small green pulse lights there was no door so I was drawn into this craft almost absorbed.

Author: 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

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