On the hills crest sat an idle oak,
still as can be, without a single leaf,
No noises were heard, no great croak
or bellowing moans, just silent relief.

It must have felt quite isolated,
had it a song, what words it would sing.

A man who wants The Girl,
not just any odd Girl,
Pitch a tent, and stock up on provisions,
for you had best be prepared,
to fight the long war for the woman you love.

Oh this feeling, the way you make me feel
is naught but solid and true. Ever present,
and always makes me feel slightly delusional,
it sometimes falters, but is widely consistent.

Theres a shift in the weather, a difference in the air,
its something of a sweeter aroma, delightful to the senses.
Its calming, giving rise to these joyful fantasies, but they are
sometimes taken to far, so I keep them penned up behind fences.

There are adjectives plenty to describe you,
and many qualities can be ascribed to your name.
For your heart is golden, your words wise, your view
on life is positive and difficult to thoroughly maintain.

Your profound adoration for puppy, child, and rose
Is much to blame for my insane admiration of you.
Theres something about your personality that grows
increasingly in such favour of something within you thats true.

Ay, yes, Its true, theres something wonderful about you,
It sees me through the deepest swells when I am blue.
I could sit in your presence and be grieved by sorrowful news,
and still you'd bring me comfort, and remedy my bout of the blues.

Why do you hide away what beauty you possess,
don't flaunt it true, but please don't sequester it.
Make proud your heart in your beauty, as it pleases
the eye, and makes glad the soul who cherishes it.

I find myself laid low to the ground,
when your hand lowered extends out toward me.
I find myself happy and in the presence of love found
and in my arms, is the person who sees me free.

There is something in me that wants me to scream
nothing of pain and agony, but in joy and profound happiness.
For there is something in my life that whilst it may seem
temporary, is the permanent source of so much joyfulness.

You hear the sound of couples
dressed high and fancy,
mingle as their souls tap the floor outside,
to the sound of strings, brass, and percussion
tempering themselves for the heat of music.
The passionate movements of bows,
batons, and fingers, to form the wonderful
elegance, behind the masterful music composed
by fellows now long gone.

Ah, to the sounds of majors and minors
my heart feels at ease, to the subtle creaking of chairs,
to the rhythmic chimes and strums of instruments within
the skilled orchestral ensemble. All this,
topped by the eccentric and emphatic movements
of the swift conductors hands, and arms,
watch the spring, when the crescendo arrives
his spring is let loose, and jolts,
currents, swift, sleek, fluent motions, baton in one
passionate turning of pages as music flies on by,
at 4/4 pace.

Oh, the fine thunder of the percussion,
and deepest strums of bass at the right,
combined in a movements finale, to make an
awe-inspiring harmony, that one does not
really expect, with two previous movements
just elegant and peaceful,
such a quickened pace and depth of drum
and strum takes us all by surprise.

Then, Silence,
joyful applause,
continuous applause,
then its all over,
and we head home.

The rains sing a steady song,
Building and fading,
The birds warble, it sounds like a throng,
But alas, these moments are brief!

The city wears this beauteous
Cloak of cloud, and adds divine
Autumnal colours! A fine display for us.
This city, this city is mine.

Listen closely to the sounds of the city,
It's quiet now, it is not busy
If ever it is only graceful and calm
It's full of life and has its charm.

What effect the rains have upon this place,
Turning it from dry, to bustling life!
Adding bright colours to the scene,
The rains are a welcome blessing!

Chug along old friend,
someday you'll see the end,
days of rest on the quay,
maybe not as active as you'll be,
slowly now,
in you go.

One final bell,
one last whistle,
men salute,
the name is taken down,
now...
all you are is a relic...
a memory of past strength,
now a museum.


You had your day,
you won them long ago,
you took a lot,
you have a big bite,
now come,
into the quiet rest of harbour.
Time to go to sleep,
sleep now you old, old,
battleship.

I walk in the forest,
the most beautiful forest,
full of the most beautiful trees,
and filled with a mighty breeze.
This forest is filled with the most
wonderful trees, I become lost
in the beauty of the forest,
thats all around me,
Beautiful Women

Is days beauty disturbed by clouds and rain?
For who truly decides what is beautiful to world?
Only you decide what is beautiful to you,
and not a thing can change that,
for everything in the world has its beauty,
but not everyone is able to see such beauty.

It has me thinking, is a beast ugly to another beast?
Is a woman ugly to all men?
Is a serpent hideous to humans?
Who decides?
Only the people who view them can decide for themselves,
beauty is not like a word in the dictionary with a set definition,
its ever changing, ever present and it is spurred from personality.
You cannot mould beauty to suite your own needs and desires,
you can destroy it!

But who would do such a thing?
Beauty is not the physical part of all things,
it is the emotional and spiritual side of all things also,
the whole is beauty.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make it any easier.
In time perhaps you might
accept it, and acclimatise,
being a good soldier,
it doesn't necessarily make it easier
to shoot your opponents down.

Being great at something,
it doesn't make you immune to pressures.
Nor the mock and ridicule.
There is a lot to consider,
when being great at something.

At the Sound of the creation music,
The stars did sound of trumpets,
cymbals, flutes, and lyres,
one gargantuan united harmony,
the music of the stars
which reached across the blackness,
and birthed the world.

Illuminating the First World,
and inciting the creation,
of man, and elf, and dwarf,
and all others beholding to the land.

Light, then Birthed Darkness,
the shadows and fires,
then the wars,
breeding disastrous conflicts,
and opening wide, deaths doors

“Catch me if you can!
I’m over here,
perplexed?
I’m really over here,
Oh wait,
I’m really quite near,
Ha ha ha, Foolish man!”

“Slay This madness!
You are what I say!
Stop, stop, stop, stop!
I am honest to the ‘T’ “

“Oh come now,
there is plenty to go around,
please come drink my milk,
and see which of you has it best,
bicker and argue children,
like vile beasts fight and quibble”

“I have it better,
it tastes exquisite”

“Nay, Mine is better yet,
a milk of sensational delight”

“Both are wrong,
Mine sings sweet melodies,
and dances on the taste buds”

“Alas these men are fools,
knowing not that they have indeed
the very same milk,
yet pride draws them to fight,
and lose all sense of GOOD
Reason.”

“Oi, I’m over here,
and You there,
come here too,
meet me here you two men,
now, you’ve found me,
here in the middle,
not far to opposite,
where blindness reigns.
I am here,
in the middle,
I am truth.
And if you tried,
by yourself,
you couldn’t
Catch me if you can.”

IN a state of brokenness,
With hands tied I look to you,
My souls waters stirred,
My Saviour,
beaten, and I'm ashamed.
My Saviour,
slain for my sins,
and I'm ashamed,
I'm ashamed.

Christ Crucified,
put to death,
a death which set me free,
Now, I'm free,
free forever in him.

Unyielding love,
he called me from the darkness,
his purpose for me to live,
for me to survive,
and in him, Thrive.

My soul untied,
by the saviour who died
my hands purified,
by the man who died,
My heart sanctified,
by the Son who died.

He broke my chains,
he conquered my shame,
he led me to light,
he showed me how to love,
he revealed me to myself,
unmasked, unashamed,
I am free,
set free by the man who died for me.

I'm in awe,
beauteous amazement,
I'm in praise of him,
king of kings,
I'm in worship of him,
the lord of lords,
standing in awe of him,
the risen king.

Let my death not be brought about by the pain,

of elongation, of sickness and disease,

nor the bitterness and cruelty of Nature.

Let my death come of time,

when all else seems of no effect,

in the midst of yells and screams,

Fire and Smoke,

crack and Shot,

in the hot temperament of Sacrifice and Glory,

Let my death unfold like a letter being read,

and my death will be watched,

by people who will stand in awe.

Let My death be not of no use,

Let it serve a true purpose,

let it be with intent,

Let it be of a lesser good,

rather than a greater evil.

I will not die in the solemnity of a hospital room,

Nor in the silence of a cold household room,

I will not die in bitter cold,

For deep down inside,

I know I will die with the warmth of my love for,

my family, my home,

my people, my nation,

My Faith, My Freedom,

My Brothers, My Sisters,

My God, My God.

The Darkest Chasm,
the coolest dark,
The empty nights, of pillow coddling,
empty smiles, and days of hopeful longing
glances across the room at you
who I wish would notice me and come to my arms.
Nay, it cannot truly be
for you are deeply engrossed with another,
tho' he may questionable,
I sit idly by,
longing,
wishing,
dreaming,
I pray soon my feelings are returned

We shall sleep long into the night,
Our bodies stirring from time to time,
Our eyes are shut, but we still see a world,
We have walked from the wings into the light.

Actors on our own stage,
The set our own design,
The plot our fears,
Our deepest desires,
A beauteous melody lingers,
It fills the air with sweet scents,
Vivid colours, flashes here and there.

The time seems short,
But the story long,
The meanings lost at the time,
But after you awake,
There's only moments to remember,

Lest it drift away,
Unlikely to be remembered,
Forgotten.

Quite a quandary,
Perplexing predicaments,
This is the modern day
I'm really quite over it,
These.... Feelings...

How things do change!
Out with the old,
In with the new,
This is the way of the modern age.
But that's not my problem,
My problem is emotions!

How do you cope?
How do you survive?
Where do you put them?
Why does it hurt?
Sure, they aren't all bad,
But some are definitely *******!

There's nothing wrong with feeling,
There's nothing wrong with me,
There's something in the air,
Something that makes me feel anything but free!

But the world is not as dull as it was,
Nor did I see the colourful beauty,
The trees lost their life,
The music a little slower,
The river a little stagnant,
The air a little stale.

Day in,
Day out.

How is this fair?
Stressful emotions,
Is this right? Fair? Just?
It doesn't seem right
That these emotions cause stress.
Stresses on the soul,
Weighing heavily on the heart.

My perspective changes!
One day it's abrasive,
The next is smooth and easy,
One is logical, the next is chaotic!

For this is my life,
Emotions born of experience,
Experience produces a reaction,
Reaction produces action,
Action produces experience.

A wheel of emotion and perspective,
It alters my life,
Day in,
Day out.

Hollow, and bitter,
scarring me in more ways than it seems.
my heart aches at the empty words,
"I love you",
I wish, pray, and consult the heavens
that soon they might prove to be true,
but, here I sit in idle wallowing in the sea
of despair and pity.
Only the removal of these empty words,
will enliven me once more and that I might
utter unto you the sincere, heartfelt words,
"I love you",
and mean it, but as for this moment,
nay, I cannot say it without it being deemed
as false.
For they are, Empty words.

In my youthful folly, I suffered,
t'was no ones fault but mine,
I was infatuated, obsessed, and ensnared
by passions of the youthful times.

In an age where magazines speak of beauty,
looks, and all forms of apparel (or lack thereof)
where sister fights sister in attempts to catch an eye
and hopefully secure for themselves a man.

My heart was stolen, it was fractured and broken,
by a woman who knew not who she was,
or who she could be, but she is forgiven..
That does not alleviate my guilty conscience.

When on my knees and in the tempest,
I began to lose my faith and heart.
He came in humble Glory,
he came in all his unfailing love.

A display of unending grace...
where he knew all I had done,
but still wiped my slate clean,
and sat me next to his throne.

My broken heart was struck with affliction,
burdened by weights of guilt and shame,
yet, t'was Gods great grace in perfection,
alleviated me and freed me from the devils game.

I'm not perfect, I still do some shameful things,
but his grace is sufficient, and ever present.
Always washing over my soul is my Kings
unfailing love. He gave me an eternal present.

He took my place.
Delivered me grace.
Tore asunder my chains,
and alleviated my pains.

He is My king,
He is My God,
He is My brother,
He is My creator.

I love him.
I praise him.
I worship him.
Always and Forever,
Amen.

Oh how Love should resemble spring,
blooming at every moment,
every beautiful blooming moments,
Blissful temperate days,
damp foggy morrows,
beads of dew in the morn,
perhaps the deep rumble of a storm,
When I say I love you my dear,
I mean it with the intensity,
the very deep consistency
of a thousand springs,
the eternal Bloom of the Eternal Spring.

Expectations unmet,
create a nasty shock,
aim slightly lower.

Get up off your lazy keister,
face the facts,
Life was never intended to be simple,
in fact at times it seems inevitably overwhelming.
You fell for the delusion,
You fell into the trap,
and now it shall be what stings you the most,
Get up off your lazy keisters,
do the work,
push through the hard times,
and change your world.

A flame of Holy ordination
and ignition, shall not soon
burn out and falter.
This flame though a wick it
surely hath, will not expire,
tho' should you cover it
all its bright light shall fade,
let this light beam boldly
into shadows and all shall
tremble and fear.
This flame of Holy ordination
lit with the softest touch,
grows brighter and fiercer,
tho' not in anger or hate,
but passion, and should
this flame lose that bright passion
then I surely would weep, and
prostrate myself in search of
re-ignition, for this flame is better
for five minutes than darkness eternity
in darkness,
I earnestly seek this flame.

Foggy morrows alluding to the rest of day,

a grand mystery of what will be,

enshrouded in mists mans mystery motivates,

it calls upon our curiosity to investigate

and pursue misty shadows lurking and lingering.


What new mysteries shall be in this new day?

What marvels may be obliged to see?

Ah, this fabulous foggy morrow holds such marvellous,
deeply seeded, and enshrouded in curiosity, mysteries.


Oh the Foggy Morrows such relevance to life

I see in you, despite the foggy nature of your being.  
Tho’ only temporary, your mystery shall reveal things

later becoming old, that is what you do,

Oh dearest Foggy morrows.

I can meander by,
and 'neath a clear sky,
lean against the frosted window,
and softly peer beyond, and see
you with him,
and shed but a single soft tear,
and wither up inside.
You might see this shadowy figure
leaning against the glass,
and a stream drifting down,
and I pray you are moved to investigate
and hear fates subtle hints,
as I grow jealous and envious,
of someone I despise for he has you
but I do not.

Men have been great,
from birth till death,
from Jesus to Napoleon,
Men have been great.

But what is it that makes men 'Great'?
Is it compassion and heart?
Passion and intensity?
Ferocity and battles?
humility and wisdom?
It depends on who you ask.

Fame perhaps, makes these men great,
thats something they all have in common.
A positive reputation in the eyes of someone,
be it a follower, a supporter, a believer.

What is 'greatness'?
such a good question.
What makes men 'great'?
Another good question.
The time has come
to ponder on this final question,

"Can I too be great?"

The world is bleak, the young die
while old live on,
fewer and fewer are born,
till none survive and its the beginning of the end.

But here, Amidst the chaos, amidst the desperation,
amidst the troubles and woes of the world,
a significant chance of hope,
a woman with child, provides hope to the hopeless.

Months into the process, it seems supernatural,
a world of hopelessness, and here the mother to be hides.
Kept hidden, kept "safe", extorted, "protected"
and then, rescued and led on the necessary mission.

Born in a camp, a slum, a ghetto,
those dulcet tones were heard.
The infants cries resounded,
and hope was then restored.

Such an infant could bring the peoples
up from their knees. To resume life as it should
be. To ensure that man survives,
first it has to survive Man.

How beautiful you are,
the amber sunlight is of no compare.
How the rivers waters,
hold nothing to the beauty beneath the tears.
Heres a secret for you my dear,
I find you wonderfully beautiful,
you hold your head high like a deer,
exuding an air of sweet elegance,
Your beauty made by heavenly hands,
impossible to walk by,
without taking note of your resplendent beauty,
For you are most beautiful.
Incredibly, fantastically, majestically beautiful
to me.

How many times have you dreamt of her?
Wishing, praying, hoping,
How many times have you silently sat in a corner?
Amidst a crowd of people you know,
Longing to be....away.....

How often do you look out your window?
Often at night to see the few stars
That aren't hidden by the cities lights,
How many times have you found yourself alone?
Sitting in a dark tunnel,
No light in any direction,
Sinking into despair.
How many times have you wanted to escape?
How often?
Frequently?
Intermittently?
Rarely?
How often?

I feel like I'm drowning some days,
My burdens weighing me down,
Dragging me to the depths,
All hope and light fading.

It's slow
It's painful
It's deep


It isn't over.
This isn't the end of me.
And suddenly I can breathe.
Fresh and easily.
Air.
Life.
Hope.

Something lifted the weight,
Someone took my place,
This isn't the end of me.

It shouldn't be the end of you.

O’er the hill the rampant stampede
and the sound of thundering hooves,
as the mighty men of steel and armour,
hasten their steeds with all passion and eagerness,
to have at the fray in which their fellows are in
deadlock with the enemy.

Following the noble banner as it
twists and bends under the speed
of the horsemen’s noble steeds.
as edging ever nearer to the battlefield.

Then, with a shout of ardent Patriotism,
and the silent but deadly ring of cold steel,
the beating hooves trample,
as the swift sleek movements of the sword
befell the helpless enemy troopers and drones,
sent like sheep into a slaughterhouse,
and hence few shall return unscathed,
for these generals havent the decency for  
diplomacy and discussion,
only to make ****** war.

And should they have cause to panic or fear,
they shall hastily mutter such words as these,
“Send in the cavalry!”,
and with little argument, we shall go,
over the hill in a stampede of
death and glory,
like the Valkyries,
we shall ride,
and hasten the deaths of they,
my generals enemies.

I am their last resort,
I am the cavalry.

If ever they should tell my story,
what would they say?
How would they say it?
He lived the common life?
Plain as one could live?

Aye, this seems fair, but I pray
this is not that all my life should be.
I hope it grows to something extravagant,
well and truly before I die.

Take my hand,
We’ll walk forever,
of dusty roads,
and wood realms,
over sequestered rivers,
by the reflective lakes,
‘Neath beauteous moonlight,
or radiant daylights delight,
Exploring majestic cities,
or ruined ancient palaces,
far distant fields,
or nearest family parks,
We’ll roam.
through meek and mild,
through the tempest wild,
through the summer heat,
and springtime rejuvenation,
I’ll walk with you forever,
If you want me to that is.

A heart ready and willing,
unfortunately denied.
Loving and committing,
simply waiting.

Yes, This heart awaits you;
it is waiting,
despite all heartache and suffering,
and it is waiting.

It watches to this day,
the heartache you each day do face,
and wonders to itself,
“why does something so beautiful,
do this to itself?”

What business has heartache
with such a beautiful soul,
a caring heart,
tell me now,
what business does heartache have?

Please Imagine,
my heart, ready to love you,
sadly made to wait,
made to watch your heartache,
made to watch you suffer,
when what it wants,
is to love you,
with everything its got,
please imagine my heart,
please,
just imagine.

I'm crazy about you,
all other words are superfluous.
I dare not utter about you,
they are useless.

My mind has you fixed,
My heart has you to stay.
The fact is: I'm more than just crazy,
I wish I could show you.

I'm not like the rest.
I don't do much sport,
I don't like to watch it,
talk about it,
I like to write poetry,
and pose the questions that count.


I like to ask: Why am i crazy about you?
because I know i am!
With every fibre, every millimetre of nerve
in my mortal imperfect body,
I know and feel my heart for you.

A passionate flame,
spread like a wildfire
throughout my being,
a delirious joy,
a unending happiness,
some call it rare,
some call it a lie,
I call it true,
because its caused by you.

I’m mad,
I am mad,
I am not angry,
no, but I am mad,
so very, very mad,
meticulously so at times,
Just know that I am mad,
I am cuckoo, I am insane,
I am deprived of sanity,
I am mad,
wonderfully so,
for I am madly in love with you.

Push me over,
I shall rise higher,
suppress my rights,
I shall bite harder,
lock me in a corner,
I shall become fiercer,
Run away from me,
I shall chase faster,
try to keep me quiet,
I shall shout louder,
hate me more,
I shall love you more.
make me happy,
I shall be happier,
These are truths,
take them away,
I shall believe them more.

It isn’t easy going on,
Day by day,
It isn’t easy going on,
Pretending you’re ok,
It isn’t easy to go along,
as you’re tougher than the world,
It isn’t easy fighting,
Day after day,
It isn’t easy to believe some days,
It isn’t easy to assert your heart,
It isn’t easy to build your walls.
It sure is worth it.

I wandered as a lonely shadow,
no substance, subject to the light,
nothing my own,
Subject to him,
the motions of a sinner,
the hurt inflicted.

No action is mine.

I am a shadow,
I've no hold or being.
It hurts being taken for a long ride.

Just to think,
that mere months ago,
my days were somewhat duller,
life somewhat meagre,
then...
one marvellous day...
I finally met you,
and things started to bloom,
greys became blues,
whites became brights,
all because I began to fall for you.

Now, If I'm a fool,
if things go awry,
then i'll just have to think,
my life is better because of what
you caused in me,
Love to bloom.

Let not loving words be rendered
unto people in fleeting moments,
moments of death, life, and marriage,
but instead let loving words,
in accordance with action and spirit,
be extended to everyone with whom
we may have contact,
from blood, to the youthful teen you
meet with passing glances.
Profess to love someone in every
moment, not just with words
and physical doting,
but with thoughts and attitude.
Let Love be rendered in every moment,
not just a few.

Whatsoever you shall do in life,
whether it is the writing of rich literature,
or walking a road till old age supersedes you.
Do what you do with grace and
heart, so that it shall be of simple
beauty and greater value,
for life wasted with idle antics and in
pursuit of useless kicks, is hardly
worth the time to live, and boast.

Life should blossom a thousand
new adventures, and an endless supply of
merry memory, tho' only a few shall be of
sorrow, pain, and hardship.
Such is life.

On and on and on,
down the rusted tracks,
screech and screams,
as horns howl in the night,
as we steam down our tracks.
Stations await,
people to collect and carry to
the point where they must go.

On the straights you can race ahead,
on the curved and bent, slow and steady,
I hope to come to the station,
where I lose not one of you my friends,
yet, at every station along my rusted track
I lose someone, and gain another,
but it doesn't negate the pain,
I dont want some to leave my train.

The Things that we do,
the things that we say,
are ever in a state of constant change,
and life the great teacher,
provides us with influences
of both good and bad,
but the task of deciding which is which,
falls only to us.

There are some things in life,
Some which are absurd,
some which are misunderstood,
and Some which cause strife.
One such thing falls under all three,
Love.

I love you in the spring time,
I love you in the fall,
I love you in every season in between,
whether its the bitter winds of winter,
the scorching heat of summer,
the heralding rains of Autumn,
or the blooming nature of Spring,
I love you in them all,
whether it is the bright blessed light of day,
or the dim lit starry night,
makes no difference to me,
no such things like time, distance,
or circumstance shall defer me,
I am persistent, perhaps tenacious,
when it comes to love.
To stand upon the rooftops,
and let aloud a cry of love,
a bold declaration,
tho' it may be rejected and I shall
fall to my knees in rejections shadow,
but still again I will rise,
for love always finds a way to thrive
similar to a ****.
Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter,
these four seasons I shall love you.

This is for she who is Love-ly,
the one who each passing day,
displays a fierce passion for me,
the one who is absolutely, Love-ly.

The way she speaks, exuding grace,
the way she moves, proving elegance,
The way she thinks, re-affirming wisdom,
the way she cares, lifting hearts.

She is Love-ly,
she makes me feel above all, Happy.
If she were to say, 'you're great!'
for no reason at all,
I'd feel a warmth behind the words,
simply because they come from her,
and she. is. Love-ly.

Such a Love-ly woman,
in possession of such a rare
collection of qualities,
one cannot help but see, and say,
She Is Love-Ly.

The lovers passionate tryst,
occurred beneath the moons feint reign,
by the reflective ripples of the river,
'neath the shivering oaks leafy canopy,
'ere the land is simple,
'ere the lovers meet.

One such fair maiden
from the highest house of noble,
married to the tyrant,
the slovenly old fool,
Youthful betrothal from a fathers greed.

One noble peasant,
poor, and rugged in appearance,
from the fishers family,
madly in love with the maiden
he abstains from all others
just for her and all his affections
are for her, only her.

So in secret these two meet,
night after night,
where the law has no reign,
where the land is free,
much like their love
in this the lover sacred
secret place.

Let us go now my love to dwell forever
beneath the faintest moonlight of summertime,
where nature grows and enlivens hearts forevermore.
Let us go now my love to dwell forever
in natures fair *****, in Ceres cradle let’s
rest and recuperate and let our minds ponder.
Loves garden grown and tended by two
such heartfelt and intertwined lovers,
see them sit ‘neath the willows canopy,
fingers intertwined, gazing at the lands fair
view as the moon drifts lazily
across such wonderful starlit skies.
My love, No such garden is better suited,
than this loves humble garden.

There are things in the world,

Medicine cannot fix, nor the bitterness of violence,

Such things as the constant sorrow,

Lack of bliss, Lack of love, lack of Life,

Because this world saps from us that which makes us enjoy Life,

And without that which makes it easy for us to enjoy Life,

We die, may not be through spirit or body, but the

Very essence of your being, your heart.

Your love, love of life, joy, friends, family, the simple things.

Tennyson’s, ‘All things must die’ is true enough for

Those with absence of life, but ye who still live, who still struggle,

Here is assistance into finding joy in the struggle,

Laughter.

It cures everything laughter, Suffering and sorrow,
disputes and arguments, bitterness and hatred,

It does what no man made medicine of this modern time can do,

It works faster than most too,

It heals the wounded.

Never be afraid to laugh at the simple things, the jokes,

The clowns, the mistakes, so long as it isn’t at another’s pain.

You should, especially in this day and age, Love to laugh!

I know I do!

Brings a smile to my mouth,

And tears to my eyes.

Love to laugh, I tell you it makes such a difference.

Months of Joy, and life,
I had been warned time and time again,
yet still I refused to listen,
I came closer to the pits of despair,
than I had dared,
I was motivated, keen on getting what I wanted,
not even noticing the shadows that loomed,
I was ignorant, for I pursued selfish bliss.

My heart was wrong, my mind always was,
given false hope, believed the devils lies,
I did things that in the end resulted in cries
for help. I had not listened,
my faith had waned,
my heart had sunk,
and in pursuit of False hope,
I died inside.

The path was long, arduos, enshrouded
in the darkest mist, with ferocious noises,
I stumbled and fell for ever and ever,
until, I smashed upon the ground with
suddenness and hurt,
It all clicked into place,
finally sense reappeared,
I was in the darkest place,
the devils house,
his door was locked behind me,
Yet it was not too late,
One loud cry,
one ferocious roar,
and he thundered through the door,
and light illuminated all that was there.

Despite what I had heard, all I had feared
Nothing at all was there.

And so began the long journey home,
through the lit up forests,
with Christ as a beacon,
his word as a torch,
my heart as a final bastion,
and I was heading home…
that didn’t make it easy though,
I had to fight,
hard and long,
up the hill,
through the storm and dry,
I was scarred, and wounded
in the soul,
this is my battle,
my painful experience,
Pray this message touch
your soul:
“Dont ignore the warnings,
and beware of the mist.”

Listen, learn, act and obey,
this is what I hadn’t learned
yet upon this day,
I have.

At the lowering of the flag,
and the rise of white,
let it not be mistaken for cowardice,
but may it be perceived as wisdom,
that my heart, a battleground
torn and riddled with blood and scorches
is now the blessed land of peace,
that all foes are in full retreat,
and the drums of victory loudly beat
and the shout of triumphal praise.

And at the going down of the bitter red Sun,
when flames smoulder, and hearts surrender,
I shall rest easy in the night, knowing, knowing
no more shots and thunder ring to my ears,
nor the tortured screams of twisted souls,
as the sun slowly sets in its ****** colour,
the fields of red and crimson,
are washed clean by truth.

Relief, the greatest sigh of relief,
that this land suppressed by fear
is liberated by an almighty host angelic
in all its glory, that with every rhythmic step
and every lyrical chant,
the enemy trembles and breaks,
no wait, they retreat.

And now, this scorched field of battle
bloodied and burnt, is restored by Christ
to beautiful fields of green and life,
trees, forest, Golden sunlight, skies of blue,
air of purity, and a life renewed, and improved,
rivers ebb and flow, trees creak and groan
as birds sing their songs, and the world is once
again alive and fully well,
this is my world,
this is my human soul.