We meet people with our emotions locked away.
Over time letting them out one by one as we let people closer. Then eventually if we feel it's right we give people the keys to our hearts.
We expect them to hold that key like a precious jewel.
Some however just add it to a key ring loaded with other keys to other things.
Forgetting until it's too late what that key was for.
The day they remember, often the lock has been changed.

When I was born it was 66 The Beatles were trying to work it out. The sounds of silence crossed the ocean and
These boots are made for walking, set the rebel scene as teenagers went to war.
Elsewhere they said the sun ain't gonna shine anymore and wanted Somebody to help me. You don't have to say you love me and Pretty flamingos were all about.
Then the war in Asia had the ballad of the green berets a **** storm clouded all their minds and paint it black made people think of those who didn't come back.
Then stranger in the night and when a man loves a woman were sung to make us forget.
You can't hurry love so reach out ill be there made the summer of love seem good again.
The paper back writter took the last train to Clarksville on the poor side of town where the song on the radio just keeps me hangin on.
But in the end December came and ended on a high. Good vibrations from the beach boys was merry xmas to all.

Cooking fat got lost again and didn't come home.
A Persian with an attitude that's worse than all I've known.
It started when SAM chased her our the door.
The ****** Arsed Monster or just Sam the dog for short.

I seldom comment when asked of love and what it means to one or another and how perceptions change. Yet, I find myself after the events of the day, and the savage treatment of another to put my thoughts forward.
  Do people change and we or they don't exist or do we discover things that change us. We have an amazing image in our heads of what we want in a partner. Now that may sound shallow but we do. The older we get the more the image changes. Red flags cause that to change on certain behaviours, lies, traits. It is our self defence mechanisms. So inevitably the less we will compromise. Why? Because we changed too. How we were treated changes what we will no longer accept. Our core image of that ideal person changes too. So when you do meet someone it's initally based upon looks then personality, then interactions. If you get one red flag you may compromise. But more and you look for the exit. When young love is blind. It's also deaf dumb and stupid. With age we get wisdom. Out there, there are millions of us. All trying to find something. Some a start. Some an upgrade. Some an end. But in all of that you can only be yourself or it will **** you inside.  Never live a lie to keep someone elses dream alive.
Maybe I should shut up now. Good luck x

One day he heard someone say he had the face only a mother could love.
Nothing ever hurt more as he was adopted.

A wardrobe full of dress she had bought on the web.
Never worn for anyone but herself.
A draw full of photos clippings of James Bond wannabes she would always say she loved them but never had chance to meet.
She knows every detail of every ****** position.
But never tried any because that involved people.
Her own little world where she hid herself away.
Where no one was cruel or could ruin her day.
In a world she created as she didn't fit in.
The girl you would love but you never met.

Karma......
Karma comes in many forms
From a simple breeze to a tropical storm
From a gentle nudge
To hearty push
But when it comes it doesn't rush
**** on folk and scream and shout
Karma is always taking notes
So build an empire and declare yourself queen
Nothing karma hasn't already seen
But to get to the throne you used those who cared
Then when your needs fulfilled you cast them away
Then karma after taking notes, came to call to return it all.
The throne now challenged, the empire at war
As a psychic shouldn't you have known.
Seems not? Are you a fraud.

It wasn't my shower
A rebel through and through!

There is a room inside all of us. From birth we have posted things in there that we never retrieve.

I'm not woke, so I am told.
Lectured to about oppression by a man in shoes that cost a week of my salary.
So here is some of what I'm not.

I'm not gay or trans or identified as something I'm not, but you can if you like I don't care at all.

I'm not totally white I'm a mix or a blend I don't see my own colour and to you that offends?

I'm not pro life nor death what a woman does is up to her.
If you dispute that do you think she cares?

I'm not into gods but you can have yours. Worship sing and chant if you like but please keep that to yourself.

So if you ain't happy you can burn your bra or block the road if you think it will furher your cause.
I've seen all that it's nothing new.
It's how it's done that defines you.

Meet on mass and air your views. But never presume or assume as it makes you a fool.  
If I'm not one of you you say I'm one of them!
There you go assuming again.

Who I am is for me alone and I object to being pigeon holed.
So while you shout privileged and fed from a spoon I remember having holes in my shoes when I was at school.
Paper inside to keep out the cold till mum could afford to get some more.

I was a boy and had three sisters. So hand me downs didn't fit me.
My first bike had three previous owners who did more mileage than Lance Armstrong.

When I went to college and met new people.
It wasn't our differences that made us friends and we listend to punk and rock as well.

So who told us we all had to be offended when we came so far from all the hatred.
Those younger than me who now riot have never asked me why I am quiet.
I'm quiet because you're killing me.
Tearing apart society in the name of justice and equality.
The narrative of segregation is once again on the table and this time it's violence you use to enable.
If you hurt then fight to heal.
But don't be a fool and hurt others too.
Change the system not whats been.
Do it with peace like we did.

I remember strikes and three day weeks.
No sugar or butter and beans on toast, yet you post pictures of your Sunday roast telling me I simply don't know what it's like to be you.

Let me explain what I see of you.

You protest on media and scream for a cause.
Done from an iPad from China do you know where human rights are very poor?
My phone is made in South Korea.
More ethical I think you'll agree.

You keep telling us oldies were
part of the problem.
We don't understand.
We can't see your view.


Says someone in £500 shoes.
Who is privileged?
I am asking you.


I remember walking to school with holes in my shoes.

I remember our first meeting.
She wore a seatbelt in a hackney. She said some things could never be spoken of, and proceeded to discuss them at length.
I never knew was it to entice me?
Or shock the driver.
I'm guessing a little of both as he seemed deflated when we reached our destination.
She talked of her ventures on the internet.
She called it ebay for people.
It's more like "click and collect" for Argos.
Buying unseen and hopeful it's not broken or not what you wanted when you got it home.
Moments later she passed out.
I carried her upstairs and put her to bed. Covered her as she talked in her sleep.
I'm guessing he wasn't from Argos.
But he was indeed broken.
I placed a glass of water next to her bed.
Closed the door.
Walked home.
We never spoke again.
And sometimes later becomes never

When I was a child I had questions.
Why aren't dogs blue when the sky is?
Why don't they live long?
Why do we die?
Why do we have to go to school?
Why does it snow?
Why does it rain?
Why do we go to church?
Who is God?
Why do we pray to him, where is he?

As I grew many were answered. Grown ups knew best. The answers often not to my satisfaction but that's life you're told.

At 50 I have other questions.
Why do we ****?
Why do we starve?
Why do we hate?
Why do we bomb?
What makes one God better than another?
Why is your God worth killing for?

Now l am a grown up and I have the answers and I don't like them. Because now the grown ups are acting like children.

Why do they have no reason?
Why don't they seek peace?
Why must they keep killing?
Why am I the same species?
Because I really don't want to be part of this anymore.
There is a plague upon mankind it's symptoms are greed, hate, narcissism, mania, egotistical tunnel vision, delusion.
We fought wars to stop tyrants, now we vote them into power. We signed arms embargoes. Now we sign for more nukes.
We can't look after our homeless, our disabled, our sick, and we preach to others from our high ground. Yeah.. Both feet in quicksand and sinking.  May our children be around long enough to forgive us. May they ask those very same questions. May they find better answers than we seem to have.

Buddha said
"You think you have time"
There is always something.
An event
A target
A deadline
Always something
Then one day you look over your shoulder and the times up
No pause, replay, no going back to edit.
You get one shot at it in this life
Maybe there is another.
Are you willing to take that chance?
Kick the leaves
Paddle in the river
Eat the cake
Take chances
Tell people you love them
Do things and don't have a bucket list
Take the time to live and love
Don't just exist
Because you don't have time
You just think you do
I wish I had

What if one day you realise you have felt every emotion you think you can ever feel?
High low
Love loss
Pain fear
Joy sorrow
Then
Emptiness
When that day comes
What next?

Place the heart you had in youth within your hands and watch it beat.
For then it beat with passion and rage and skipped those beats when you were dazed.
Then hold the heart you have of now, the one you feel trying to burst.
As age and worries push its bounds in a world where we feel we may just drown.
With all its worries and all the fears we carry for ourselves and our loved ones dear.
Then take the heart of an older you, its beats slower now its journey through.
A heart that beat through love and loss and fear and joy till now...
It stops.

It's ok to be alone

Wrapped in cellophane I felt today as
I washed the sheets a month on her scent now gone.

What lies beneath her painted smile, showing roots and sticky lashes.
A plot to steal your sanity in heels and spandex *******.
She's dressed to **** like a huntress.
She didn't bring a gun
When she takes the shot no sound is heard
Just the whimper of desire

Love is like a concept album. Some really get it.
Some liked it because it was what everyone else wanted.
Some hated it but it grew on them.
Some never understood the concept or albums.

Oh no son
You can't go
They don't want
You there.

Now I've been around and here and there.
I've seen faces that fit and watched others stare.
Cos when you're not on the A list
They
Don't want you
There

I have friends who sing, friends who dance.
Some are gay and some are not.
Some share opinions, others won't.
Some made mistakes and others  they don't.
Some aren't white some are aren't.
Some are political, some are not.
Some like cats others dogs.
Some are spiritual, some not.
Some are tactile and others arms length.
Some share every detail when they vent.
Some say little but are always there.
Some get offended and others don't care.
Some scream foul, others referee!
But I love there differences, how do they see me?

I walked the dog the other night as the twilight flickered and I watched the mosquitoes get ever lower in groups in acrobatics and aerobatics below the tree line like starlings swarm but not as pretty and no one likes them in country or city as they breed in pools and hunt at night and bite and infect and cause nothing but strife in their short and heady airborne life and now after admiring their ariel dance one ******* took a vampire stance and sunk it's  mouth into my cheek and left a bite thats red and angry and ******* me off because in twighlight I walked my dog.

There was a time when I could fall in love like the breeze teases the trees.
Simple, uncomplicated, fresh free.
But no more.
As I've aged it's as though it has drained from me.
Slowly at first, then with an urgency.
Like blood being drawn by a parasite.
Till one day you realise the emotional exsanguination is complete.
You are bereft, drained, empty.
Loveless.
A day comes where no matter how you try to start a fire.
The is no longer a spark.
Nothing.
You can no longer bear yourself enough to stay with another.
For it would indeed be like feeding on their very soul.
You are laid bare inside and out.
And so
You hide
Away
Directionless.

The journey of the lost.

It is the simple things I guess I miss
The early morning dry lipped kiss

The scrunched up face and panda eyes
"Good morning" with a croaky voice

But more than that it's hours before
Talking in her sleep once more

Laughing with her eyes tight shut
I hope it's me she's dreaming of

Then shes calm and sleeping sound, I listen to her breathing sound

Frightened just in case it stops
My blood runs cold at the thought of that

Then waking up before she does
Then like spoons I snuggle up

Her arm wraps tight and pulls me close
I never want to let her go

Then the battle once we wake do we kiss and then be late?

For a kiss would lead me to her soul
Then making love entwined we roll

It's days like that
The simple things
Being in love
More than anything

We kiss goodbye to work we go
Waiting for their text to come

Miss you
Love you
Love you more!
I don't recall my life before

She's home first
She looks so tired
I sneak up and hug her from behind
Move her hair and kiss her neck

Nothing smells like her hairs scent
Her neck tastes like the fruit of love
I love the way her ears twitch now
She pushes back to claim her man

She turns her head and smiles at me
I love you spoken with a grin
I held the world, I held it all
The universe within my arms

The little things, the simple things
That someone else now gets to see
It really was the best of times
I was mistaken you were mine

So now I miss those simple things
I don't want a 40 minuite fling
Get out and date and fill your boots!!
I'm sorry that isn't love

I want someone to close their door and feel butterflies that I have gone
I want to play upon their mind dreaming of, our next time

So when asked to write of simple things
I ask are they really everything?
Only you can answer that!
So don't waste a minute of your life.

I wish I could hang my mistakes in frames
Walk past them each day
To remind me of how not to do things again.

I sat drinking wine
The world oblivious to our presence, save for a curious Fox.
He stood watching little red ridding hood and the wolf.
They missed the sunset, yet the moon's rise over the twin towers and laughter seemed far more precious.
They watched a lone star over a village and joked that the three wise men wouldn't turn up there!
Then they packed up the remnants of a feast and headed for Home

Hope is an island inhabited by dreams, were all the answers are, but no person lives.

He fell in love with a version of her.
Not the woman that existed.
A version he projected.
A version dressed how he wanted her dressed.
Make up as he imagined not how she looked
Hair how he wanted, not her style.
Then when it came to intimacy, he didn't understand that wrapping something as you wished for doesn't make the contents the same.
She resisted.
A whole being created in his head to serve his needs.
The real her?
Trapped in a prison of fear.

Raindrops become puddles as they huddle together.
Teardrops tracks as they run away.
Words whispered on breath that catches the ear.
Always say what want them to hear.

I've lost more than I ever knew I had.
Given more than I will ever receive.
Embraced fear knowing it held absolution.
I have been the pillar in others lives as they crushed me as foundations.
I have been the only light keeping others bright and I have fallen further into darkness without them seeing.
I will never be wealthy if you measure wealth by assets.
Have I loved?
Oh how I have loved.
Foolishly, recklessly, blindly, lost, found and forgotten.
But have I been true to myself?
Can any if us say we have?
Totally, always,
I doubt it.
But I have tried.

Where you are now isn't your final destination.
Don't let anyone tell you it is.

I want you back she said.
I've made a mistake
It was a silly phase
Something I needed to do

I want you back and the way you kiss
The way you hold
The way you open doors
The way you hold my hand and stroke my hair
All the things I miss
But you had all that and then chose him
So why would you come back
The adventure done?
Had your fling and a thousand promises.
Your back because you aren't what they wanted no matter how you tried.
Your back to the comfort zone.
Back to tell more lies

He was not the man he seemed
Nor the man he wished to be.
More a soul in limbo
Neither who they saw or who he wished he was.

Is there a cultural or historic version of Genocide?
Where you eradicate all nods to a past culture.
Erase any trace of it?
Does that not mirror the wrongdoings of the oppressors. Using the same ideology of a scorched earth policy.
If we wipe out all traces of a past discression who will remind us of it's danger.
Is it civilised to destroy one section of history?
You can't change it. You can learn from it and create a better future.
But destroying the past will never change it.
Only risk its repetition.
Why not leave them and put signs under them.
Explain who they were.
What they did.
Their terrible legacy.
Make them a monument to the shame of past ideology.
This won't sit with many peoples current narrative.
Auschwitz wasn't demolished for a reason and people still deny it was ever real.
Erase monuments to slavery and you risk the same fate.
Think clearly.
Not with anger.
Anger is a natural response but won't make this better.
Make a statement that lasts.
Not a fire or rubble that's forgotten.

Schrödingers you are!
Neither one nor the other
You are not having a relationship and having one at the same time!

I looked in her eyes and saw so much love.
I also saw so much sadness.
It was as though I had known her a lifetime yet met a stranger.
I just wanted to tell her it would all be ok.
I doubt she would have believed me
The more I see her the more I miss her.
Totally contrary to all I believe.
Yet all day I think of her, love her words her honesty.
Fear her cold steely will, for I may be jettisoned.
Sometimes the thought of her makes me fear life itself.
Sometimes I fear my own sanity.
Nothing I had imagined
Just a soul with so much love and so much distrust.
How do you fathom that.
So I guess I can't

What you hold dear, others may have no grip on at all.

What you hold dear, to others may not even exist.

What you hold dear, may be all that someone needs to control you.

What you hold dear, is held by you alone.

But what you hold dear..
Sometimes..
You must let go.

Drains
Fountains
Puddles

Never assume
You may be unhappy in your relationship.
It doesn't mean others are in theirs.
Don't sow the seed of doubt in another's garden.
How others choose to love and live may not be the same as you.
They have no less a right to live and love than you so long as no one is hurt.

Wrapped in cellophane as though preserved waiting to once again be opened.
He washed the sheets today, a month on.
Her scent now gone but He can still smell her.
He never wanted to feel again. He didn't have the capacity.
An Ill defined future.
Nothing inside
But she lit up the room.
Like an arsonist with no thought as to what or who she burned.
It was like getting excited opening a tin of beans and craving them on toast, and finding half of it is liquid.
That said, she could never be a woman that only ate lettuce.
Her body was the incarnation of curvature.
Its sweeping form more beautiful than anything he had known or imagined, and yet fleeting.
For she was a muse.
Fleeting.
Lost.
Passing through.

When the lights go out and the day fades, when all you have is your thoughts and dreams.
Who do you dream of and imagine they're there?
Do they even know you care?
But now it's dark and your eyes are heavy.
The sand mans calling so  don't  be late.
Wake tomorrow and seize the day.
Because life's all that you alone make it x

Can you overdose on happiness and it make you feel insecure?
Can you love so much it hurts you when you think of it?
Can the touch of another make your soul tremble within?
Can the sight of them leaving **** something inside?
Are there more emotions than those we were tought.
Love joy and happiness, fear hate and remorse.
Is the pain of not knowing such  a burden as is loss?
Is there a magic formula to work it all out?
If you could edit past mistakes would it be a total rewrite?
Would you change the characters names or remove them instead?
Or would you leave things the same and learn from your mistakes?
Ask me tomorrow when the game starts again.

In dreams he's lived from the day, she died.
He never wanted to feel again. He didn't have the capacity.
I'll defined future.
Nothing inside now.
She lit up a room.
Like an arsonist!
She could get excited opening a tin of beans.
Now he craves beans on toast and finding half of it is liquid.
She could never be a woman that only ate lettuce.
And now all he sees is salad in people

The darkness is consuming me cell by cell
As though it wants me to take my own life ever pushed to that edge by the feeling of emptiness and solitude
Invited by thoughts of peace and nothingness

Last night I looked up to the stars
But the clouds got in the way
The stars were still there
Waiting for another day
The clouds come and go
Night after night
Just look up
It will be alright.

If we consider our life to be like a elevator starting at the ground floor. As we grow we move to differing levels. Sometimes we skip levels that we think we can do without or not need to experience. Bypass them. Often later in life we have to go back and descend to them before we can go higher. Sometimes people end up in the basement. There is a bar there and lots of bad ideas. But again you may need the visit. For some the basement is where each day the lift comes to rest. But the basement is cold after the bar closes and the other drinkers leave. If you make it out you have a choice of not pressing the down button again. The lift of life is never static. If the lift breaks down and you get trapped there isn't an emotional fireman that turns up and rescues you from the lift. You have to work out for yourself which floor you want to be on. There are signs and guides. But unless the lift breaks and someone has to repair the mechanism, you're on your own.

I began to make mistakes the first moment I saw her face

I was once asked the difference between good and bad.
After a while I said
You may not know you're doing good.
But you will always know if you're doing bad.
He slapped me.
That was my last ever brush with the catholic church.

True story