I'm a standby lover,
with all the duties of a partner;
but without a proper invitation.
I'm your safety net,
a dollar in your pocket,
the also-ran.
You can bench me;
bend me,
ghost me for awhile,
lead with breadcrumbs,
make me smile,
save me for a rainy day,
tuck me up and play away,
And when you've found the one you're after,
Will your heart be filled with love and laughter?

I truly hope so...

We only surmise, or form ideas from what we've been told! as "history is always written and preserved by the victors"

Theorems are written in a world where information has always been the super power.
We entrust our history to intellectuals with egos, and lucrative careers.
These people often creat and reinforce our perception of our past merely to empower their future.

The value of a good artist or musician.

Artists rarely make back the hours and cash invested in their trade.

A lot depends upon them, and the how much their culture values their particular trade, and art form.

Globally art, literature, music and song is deeply embedded within cultures; as such: an artists trade is often valued highly, similar to that of a plumber, electrician, painter, doctor etc, It's a craft, a skill with positive cultural significance. (A real job)

Here in Blighty, it's not regarded with the same significance.

Every killer is in pursuit of life,
I suspect that the key to a long life, is in deaths commonality.
I've no doubt that obstacles such as cancer and diabetes will be the key to our longevity; not because we eradicate them, but because we include them in some way.

(Its just a feeling)

Elitism and dogma are deeply seated within all societies.
It's much easier to shun, or attack outsiders and remain safely entrenched in our own truths.

Perseverance, inclusiveness, honesty, kindness and welcoming each and every truth is the key to cultural success.
Celebrate the good.
Real change cannot be forced with militancy, and it's painfully slow, so much so; that the effects can only be seen from one generation to the next.

Anger is not a force for good.

(Satire & comedy is often an affective barometer for the things to come.)

My mother would often suggest I sleep on it.
Presumably mulling over all the possible outcomes whilst dreaming.

We were raised with anxiety, my mother was a live wire; adrenaline primed our hearts to avoid judgment, or catastrophe in an uncertain future.

At this very moment I am  living in the now, and in love with all living things, no-longer afraid; no longer clinging to the illusion of control, in an uncertain future.

Lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely!
She said I am so lonely, lonely, lonely,
I  could die.
My mouth was dry,
There ain't sweetness here in paradise

Baby, Baby, baby, baby!
She said baby, baby, baby,
I  could die.
My mouth was dry,
But there ain't sweetness here in paradise.

Love, love, love, love!
Love, love, love,
I kissed you hard,
My mouth's was dry,
There ain't sweetness here in paradise.