where love is,
everything of my heart,
the earth breathes in
deep sorrows or red,
moving like a winter
cloud, burning ashes
like moods, sweeter
than the yellow roses
of autumn.
drift into me, sink into me
until i am a rose of the sky.

none of the head angels liked looking
after the flowers. there was never enough
water in heaven for them.

then ian dream remembered:

go under the meadow
over the wave

you will arrive at station 4
press the blue button
and the flowers will automatically
be watered.

tea the angel rushed to try it out.
he pressed the blue button
and the springs for the flowers flowed.

the flowers in heaven started singing
with happiness and it was so beautiful
everyone cried.

a fiery heart,
the beating sun,
summer’s ghosts burning
and a lonely petal falls from the rose.

inheritance tax in britain is no longer allowed.

stamp duty is also not charged. a lot of families wanted their parents to have their houses next time  more than having to sell the houses to meet the bill. it is better to keep houses in the family and rent them out or restore them as they be needed next time. the figure for last year was 3000 who regretfully had to sell.

it is also illegal to feed wheat bread to ducks it must be rye bread. unfortunaly wheat makes people (and ducks 🦆  )  depressed. i refuse depressed ducks in britain.

summer’s petals
sink perfect, fall into dream

on their night-bed, soothed
by a purple dew,

honey-sweet, like the
drift of a cloud,

the night is a bird with
gorgeous wings while the

moon paces the world
like a garish cat.

the woods are never quiet,
like a sea they sing to the wind,

the birds carry the leaves to the sky,
they whistle and dance,

their voices weave through the woods
each song-thrush like a small storm,

the skies drift forever,
the honey sun rises and falls,

you ground me like an anchor,
pull my head out of those poet clouds.

when the ghost of the dark cried for sunset
and the darkness arrived like a storm
the cliffs all angular and windswept
to wait long for the blossoms of dawn,

the dark all a seascape of blackness
a dance that soon opened every door
the clouds darkest grey, hardly
senseless,
the waves that blue anchored
the shore.

our love was a drifting of sorrow
like a tide only longing to flow
baptised while it waits for the morrow,
the moon’s tender orb all aglow,

when i kiss you beneath the
bright starlight
each star throws a fisherman’s
net,
and your flesh tastes like silvery
moonlight,
like the first night we met.

the late clouds gather their silver
the wind blows like the song of a ghost,
and my heart pounds like a
burgeoning river,
and all time in its fever is lost.

the storm’s edge blows open the
window,
the shutters pushed out from the sill
the clouds are a story of sorrow,
the evening all chill,

the night hangs her clothes in
her wardrobe
the sun sleeps like a cloudy
old bear
and all of my love like a snow
globe
white petaled, moon-scented and fair.

i dream of you like a silvery ocean
whose tide ever beats ever back
your love all a hypnotic potion
painted silver and black.

low slanted white sun,
grazes like sandpaper,
an old mop falls down.

shadows and smoke,
the watery fires of the sun,
the sea whispering
of summer dreams,
gathering the
wilderness of the waves,
melting, melting…

the summer
melts into corners
and doors, unsettles
its ghosts.

the flowers blush
and burgeon, wild
grasses blow in the
wind.

the sun shrinks the
land, blasts the heathers
with their purple blooms.

everything seems to
be blossoming, the clouds,
the sky, even our love.

ta ma a la a na
my love for you is forever

tassa na aa aa aa ai ah
a sea that the storm starts to sway


ta ma nee a ma na sa ma nee
my eyes the colour of storm rose

ta stata ma no al la nee
my lips pink like a peony


ta ma ar aa aa aa ma ma
and as my eyes start to flutter

ta ma na da la oo ah la nah
the clouds all soft like the mist


ta ma na ah la na ah la me
i laugh at the song of your kisses

da sa ma ah la
surrender to bliss.

the night with its sandman
and rivers of dream, hangs
pendulous and remote,
cools like a mist far from
the day with its
sun of fire and withering
heat, its ghosts the shaking
clouds, its flowers the trickle
over rock of a burgeoning
stream.

in the midst of brexit i advise that britain continues to trade as normal if there was a previous trade in place.
the treasury advises £190 billion at present so we are not bankcrupt. france looking to supply wine in britain i have agreed on 1%per unit import and export. please continue to buy and sell and please dont refuse  to deliver if something is sent.

the money is in the english admin from my fwoah account for eternity account. i put 1thousand thousand thousand trillion into the account so everyone who qualifies should get this including students on top of grants and living funding.
pensioners should get extra £400 a month all unemployed and universal credit with also £200 to each child under 18.
in the next few days we will set up a call centre for people in britain to call. i’m sorry not everyone has received theres but its difficult with whitehall virtually closed due to emdemic. i would add the oxford vaccine looks safe.

fwoah dream boleyn also advises funding for 400 new jobs for policeman at request of george scott of scotland yard.

ian was my cloud-castle
ian was my dream.

the love was always the love
with my ian.

i was his beautiful bird
he was my beautiful boy

he was my gentleness of heart
he was all my day and all of my night

i love my ian for ever.

when i come back it will always be
beth and ian.

"where night is....a violet bird stretching drowsy wings"

i.

night, strange bird of metal,
sinking like a sea whose tide
drifts out, down through the
sky, wild honey and flowerbeds
full of stars.

ii.

i dream of you, revealing
everything of me, i am nuts
and bolts, i am sweet and
sour, i carve my name
on your wrist where the blue
snake rests its head.

iii.

my breath is fire and flowers,
longing, a song forgotten in
the mist, crazy day, bitter and
sweet night, shadow steed of
a circular world.

iv.

kiss me, sweet love,
my skin aches for
your touch like a night
flower twisting petals
on the wind, in love
with your love.

v.

rise like a ghost and
sweep me away, the
burning dust of my
ribs, my very last kiss.

the silvers of the night
thin in the autumn air.

surreal beneath the
bridges of time

the ghosts of the leaves
shiver as they fall.

the tide reaches out,
spins as the waves give up their
ghosts,

the tide with its thunder and its rain
spins back as the waves tremble,

your love, pressed to my lips,
a song of winter waves.

fwoah dream reiterates that sea commands all military under fwoah.

fwoah continues to support trump (choo) in this difficult transfer of power. we’ve had the fake news now we’ve the fake vote. china requests transparency at this point in time and recounts in the areas where there was corruption against our ally america.

dra (english commander raf) would like to thank fwoah for continuing to support the military in great britain. he would also like to thank ian of china for making sure that china would never attack. he wants to move forward in action with china and support the idea that evil is no longer in the world. scott advises police support to southern ports to turn back anyone who classes as evil on the new ap.

fwoah advises extra 400 jobs in the south for policemen to id check for evil people trying to move to great britain. fwoah paid 2billion into police funding for this service from taxpayers cash. exchequer has £130 billion and boro was yet again trying to steal money.
this 2 billion spending to be determined by scot of scotland yard with emphasising creating jobs. definitely  400 on southern coast. key phrasing ‘system’ army and police and customs to work together.

emails to changes to government and request for finance to be emailed to www.chinachange.

beth fwoah dream boleyn st clair advises that no deal was agreed with america for uk to trade at cost to uk of 50 trillion. the uk has only 190 billion in exchequer and cannot afford the deal. the queen of england offers 1% in excise 1% import duty per unit and is already trading happily around the world. if usa want deal with uk they need to speak to sun  of china at the chinese embassy in great britain. any american product we already trade we would like to continue with new products must have authority from embassy. uk hopes to continue in friendship with america.

"where love is a ghost and a star"

play with me,
loosen my hair,
let me sing to
you a sea song
where the waves
somersault and
crash to the shore,
where the wind, wild
as wild, faints to breathe
in the darkening sky.

in a field of long grass,
bronzed by the gold's of the sun,
the wildflowers grow,
far from the blue mists of the sea,

dark root and thundering air,
the hawthorns blossom silently
they are everywhere, white clouds
like drops of moon against the sky

as if the lonely dance of the skies
was a heart-beat, was your love,
as if the sky could not be more beautiful
with the sun, the wildflowers and your love.

the clouds dream,
built of cold twilight
frost,

the stream spins
in her sleep, the
night tucked behind
one ear,

the birds sing
of the joys of the
stars, dive merrily

through the undertones
of a signatured sky,

i dream of your
love, melt as you
kiss me,

as jealous as a stormy
sea of your love,

i beg you not to go,
like the tide you
will return, my

heart is full of tears,
as gaunt as a pretty
rose,

its love for yours,
a jealous sea of
dream, whispering

like a wave.

they took her to the doleful traitor’s gate,
where none could save her life or bring release,
along the river to a heavy fate,
no harp or dulcimer to give her peace.
the world had turned away, the tudor rose
in ruins at her feet, the fickle king,
inconstant, needing sons, the river flows
with royal blood where sorrow’s angels sing.
“to jesus i commend my soul,” she cried,
she wore damask, her mantle was ermine,  
poor cramer heard the cannon as she died,
he fell and wept, forgave her every sin.
  the strings were broken on the violin,
  that sang no more for laughing anne boleyn.

the stars parade,
the moon curves into
silence,
the night broods
in a frosty sky,

footsteps follow
like the witching hour
in her emerald
caves,

kiss me, sweet boy,
let me rest
in your arms,
sing a song of
love into the
night tide,

sway with you
in a ghostly
circle,

sunken like
a blue pool
beneath the
stars,

where our
forever begins
in the unravelling
of the old moon.

clouds of ice,
november seas,
moody skies,
drifting days
faded to
golden leaf,
trees, the haunts of
autumn, fine mist
on a cloud-wrapped
sky.

the rain clouds wait,
woven from sea and
lake, drowning in
their dreary darks,
uninspiring and tedious,
their grey metals stretch
like sheets of steel,
they gather the storm
on their lips, snort
like a bull leave us
treading gingerly, unwilling
to risk standing them down.

when we first met, when you
crossed the star-lit skies to

meet me (poetically) and i tried to
hide, (not poetically) knowing

somehow what was going
to happen, you said, “hi, my

name’s michael” and thought
(because i asked you later) “there

is no way she’s ever going to like me”
and i tried to play it cool thinking

“i will die, i will die forever, if he
doesn’t return my love.”

ah ha hari

the clouds always dream
ananananee

the sun always rises in the morning




lola was egypt ray drew was her son

lola say boohoohoo
cry for your suns

(originally we are the stars

pamama

we want the sun forever

her husband lives as tray

in egypt they say
ananananah
the moon always rise

the sky is always perfect
ananeee

the stars always shine at night
anananmee

porta the zulu leader and da except lola

lola say lalala to da

hataab is here the anne christ christ protector

helios is here the sun god

meghansaid

timanee
i am god
meghan said

meghan ssaid

wawawa

people are always kind

but lola is preferred in africa

she ruled their 30 times
meghan only 3

the temples built of gold, silks finely spun,
a song of palaces in babylon,
where mede's daughter pined beneath the sun,
for mountain streams and hills to walk upon.
before the persians let the city fall,
great babylon held asia to the east,
the hanging gardens near the mighty wall,
their history told by an ancient priest.
if herodotus added to his tale,
he lent to grandeur with a poet's tongue,
a vision by euphrate's winding vale,
the river flowing where his story sung.
nebuchadnezzar built to please his queen,
to bring her trees and vines of verdant green.


amytis - daughter of king medes.
king nebuchadnezzar 2nd - built the gardens
herodotus - greek historian from ionia.

through distant isles i searched for him
my only love, my one true knight,
and i a spirit, silver-haired,
a ghost of night.

oh, he was battle scarred and worn
from long crusades in foreign lands
and through parched deserts still i roam
the wind-blown sands.

i'll not forget him, never rest,
until i've whispered in his ear
undying love through moon-blanched lips
and held him near.

oh, hear me crying like the wind
through every forest, every sea,
i walk the earth, a phantom shade,
unceasingly.

and snow is cold but not as chill
as the iced ****-frost of my breath
the taste of winter in my kiss,
a wraith of death!

i'll wrap him in my gauzy limbs,
ignite the fire in his vein,
encircle him in clouds of mist
and free my chain.

through distant isles i searched for him
my only love, my one true knight,
and i a spirit, silver-haired,
a ghost of night.

i’m drifting like
the sea,

your voice the colours
of the sun,
unwrapping my core,

the ink dries on the
paper,

our love glows in the
gentle rain.

further news kim fwoah and choo to trade 50 tonne a day olive oil to america. deal awaits putting in writing. america has not seen olive oil in america for over 50 years when america and italy fell out. please note the olive failed this year so full preferred quantities can not be sent yet. py a can supply 2tonne a day for this year also the drews in italy 2tonne a week the bafas 1tonnr a week. all for next twelve months. hopefully next years olives will do better

white as a sheet the day’s
ghosts fade like an
old photograph.
the rivers of the day
tremble and drown
with the rain that
falls and falls.
i am a mosaic,
a floor made of
tiles, ashen with
autumn reds.

with immediate effect all trade uk import duty 1 percentage per unit export duty the same in china france and england as decided by beth fwoah of china anne boleyn of england and aquataine of france all three my princely thrones.

if you have a history of trading with these countries please continue but exise and import duty must be paid up front.

if you have a new product you’d like to supply to england china or france please speak to the countries embassy in your country

the embassy will decide if it is considered suitable.

remember wheat, sugar and ‘smudge’ will be illegal in france china and uk from 01/04/2021

breads must use rye and chocolate use swis artico or bangladeshi chocolate, sugar must be replaced by mashed green tea which is a nice sweetener that doesnt make you put on weight and is worker friendly.  only healthy products will be allowed in uk. please speak to china embassy to organise sourcing mashed green tea.

where love is love still forever
and the wild sea crackles and broods
and the clouds float light as a feather,
and grey as grey are their moods,

the pinks of the sea always flowing,
the corals buried deep in the sand
and the wind with its strength
always fleeing,
the skirts of the land.

the flowers of the waves are all blooming,
the sun gathers strength from the day,
the surf cries and lifts then is
falling
and says all is left still to say,

the roll of the tide like a titan,
a giant whose breath is to lave,
and thunderous seas that would
frighten,
dissolve in their waves.

the sea is an arc of bright crimson,
the  sky a whole sand-dune of gold,
the swallows of the sky unimprison,
the air from the story yet untold,

the devil sings out to his sister,
who refuses to come or obey,
for she is a lark of the water
and knows the sea’s way.

as twilight swiftens like a moon note,
and the blue air dreams of her
love
and the dark dreams of dreaming
in her star boat
and  the sky sings forever there of,

my love for you grows still
forever,
as my kisses find all the dew of
your lip,
as me to you you pull and untether
as stars start to dip.

you, the light of
summer in my arms,

you, with a gorgeous smile
like sunbeams on the shore,

the masculine line from
your sideburn to your mouth,
leaves me in a swoon,
(as i watch you speak,)

as if this sunny day flowed
through us like a poem –

bringing us out of
winter’s chill tombs –

your love answering mine.

loving a ghost boy,
brown, gentle eyes,
dark flowing hair,
you magnetise me,
love soft as the sky,
enigmatic, beautiful,
out of a shadowy night
your love finds me,
and i find you,
ghost boy,
boy that i love.

"where day is....a dragon of the sun"

i.

melody of a wild sky,
burnt to ash, dark
keeper, longing for
light.

ii.

you wish to please me
and i'm caught up in
your arms, i fall to
the dry dirt earth,
i reach up, stretch
wings of stone.

iii.

summer is creased
at the edges like a
white shirt, it borrows
its golds from the melting
sun, and my path follows
yours, i am the echo of
all your steps, we run

up the stone staircase
that beckons us, we
run along corridors
and unlock doors,
my lips breathe fire
like a dragon,
my wings stretch out,
fabulous and wild.

iv.

i wish to please you
with my fiery kiss,
kisses and smoke,
i smoulder trapped
forever in a moment,
the moment is you
and love is my heart
singing in tune with
yours beneath the pebble
sky.

sa la ma ah ah
we are of the love

sa ah ah ah ah
love is important in the world


woe woe woe woe woe
we are always in love with our lives

dee ah dee ah dee ah
love will be ours forever


ma ah ah ah ah
love will be important forever

to to to to to
hteb loves nai


canata canata canata canata
hteb loves the ray of the sun

ot ot ot ot ot
nai loves hteb


ta ta ta ta ta
the stars are beautiful

sa sa sa sa sa
the moon is beautiful

the sea with her songs and her freedom,
a rose in the desert tonight,

while the night with her beauteous wisdom,
holds the sky like the wings of a kite,


the moon is a ghost white and eerie,
skies carry the bird’s weary cry,

while the clouds dream of rain, brimming teary,
with each hollow sigh.


our love lies like ash long departed
and freedom's the wilds of the coast

and the sky where the swallow once darted,
has no star with their silvery frost,


oh, lover no love then could ever
be wiser or bolder than ours,

or lost as quickly with each new endeavour,
bewitched like the flo'ers.



so lover i wait here forever,
where the waves of the blue ocean swell,

a bride to the storm and the ether,
my song the sea's silvery knell,


for the muse sings of darkness forever,
and dark is the song ever sung,

and the sea finds its bow and its quiver,
and air fills her lung.


i'll wrap all my dreams in white paper,
and carefully tie with a bow,

then lay them all out with the ashes,
that lie where the wild berries grow,


and no one will ever e'er find me
and i will be lost in the end,

torn under the coast where the seas be
the voice of the land.


night grows from the death of the evening,
evening carries her stars and her seas,

the morning without ever seeming,
delights the bright sighs of the breeze,


dark voice of the sky and the landscape,
dark eye of the turbulent sea,

moon emperor, discoverer, wan dreamscape,
love jealous and free.

law
in new agreement england will be returning to unleaded fuel rather than electric cars. vauxhall will be able to continue manufacturing petrol. it is my belief that unleaded fuel is more eco friendly than battery cars which are 4 times as dangerous to ecology. this is because the battery car will burn peoples blood in the end. any one using a battery car will be allowed to continue for now but people need to know the truth

winter fed us with blood-red berries and ice clouds,
our visible breath soon colder than our lips.
i did not want to see what you had seen,
could not grow out of those sad, sad eyes.
we fell into the calm wave of circumstance
and twilight hurried from us into the dark.
hurried away like the last drop of sunlight
purples the earth, dancing on the edge of the world.
do we wait, stone-heavy, for the last tendrils
of day to melt like ice?
the fearful cold breathes like a fog,
gathers its stars of voice and hill,
gathers memories and distant dreams,
lets us forget.
are you the ghost that lies on the hill
calling to me?
are you that ghost,
whose irons soften like cloud,
whose frozen leaf trembles on the branch
waiting to fall to the whispering land?
your eyes are from the past and yet
they follow like a cold wind blasts.
your eyes, everywhere your sad eyes,
biting like a frost.

bird of wood and grass
built of darkness and
yellow beak, incredible

sentry of lawn,
poseur of dawn,

stone-shod mover,
hopscotch lover,
ellipse of heaven,

shadow of the
witching hour,

carrying the wings
of evening like
a worm in his
sultry mouth.

in the dream he asked me if
i would like him to read me some of his poetry -

i said i would love him to and we
set off for his house -

but we seemed to keep travelling
left, although i knew his house was on the right,

and suddenly i was in the basket of a
huge crane, lifted higher and higher

600 ft, 700 ft, i couldn’t find jim
and i crouched down in the basket-

with my hands over my head -
and everything was like

edvard munch's  ‘the scream’
and then i awoke and all i could

think about was seeing jim morrison
and how i’d have liked him to read me his poems.

the ocean dreams...
colours like burnt kisses,
the blue mist tangles the air.
the shore shook out its creases
like old linen, fell under
the tumbling wave.
i drank the silence,
walking where the moon,
carried along by the song
of a ripple, dipped
her feet in the foam,
dancing, dancing...
beneath her ivory tongue,
a glistening jewel,
her alabaster skin
night's whitest rose,
and where the stars
wrapped december in
ghosts and the
gleaming water was the
quietest echo of love,
i could no longer bear
to be alone, and my tears
were the wilderness
and how it grew inside me,
and everything i loved was there
the wave carrying the wind
and i felt alive, as joyful
as the silver shore, a dark-pooled
painting of you, a river-eyed song.

hot as a roman spa,
the day fragments
hits its searing top note,

the blissful breeze
waves a flag,

the sky, the sun’s captive,
is all slumber and mouth,

i swallow the dust,
watch a butterfly
land with the wings of a god.

this was a song that lingers in caverns and
caves, scented by sea rose and anemone,
lost kingdoms where we dream of the sea.

this was a song like a whale shivering
through the water, diving into the
impossible dark, with its huge tail
waving, flag-like and star-hungry,
its skin the moon's lips, in a world
with no moonlight, no brightening pools,
and only echoes of a forgotten sun.

how deep do we dive, seals of ink
and overtures of unanswerable
dark? our eyes have been betrayed
many times and the water buries us
whole, takes us to the staccato rhythms
of a ghostly tide, takes us back to
a womb woman whose prayers lie
like whispers on the water, who tells
us to hush and we hear our mother's voice.

these are wild notes that press into the
waves, and i am frightened of this song,
it is dissonant and gathered from the
rivers of night, her tombs overgrown with
wild flowers and the bones of the sea,
and she cries for the lost,
for those that were taken from her,
and she will cry for all eternity
and her tears are like breath of ice.

goodness is more powerful than evil
never hurt a child
the meek shall inherit the earth
love is, luck is, skin is,
we never have to hurt ourselves
to feel our love for someone,
we spoke to the evil, it said
that it was too evil, it said it
was fed up of the evil and that it
just wanted to go. everyone who
is kind and gentle helps goodness.

sweet night, with
your summer blaze
and shoulder of dusk,

your wings fly up,
crave the sky, flung
into shadows, brooding

like the cattails in the pond,
your breezes are bright
domes, scented by the moon,
your clouds, hidden mirrors.

"where the night clouds ebb and flow like a tide"

the clouds roar their
thunder, balance
against the sky like a
set of scales
while the rain,
heavy and dreadful,
soaks the hot ground turning
the trickling stream back into
a buoyant wave chattering
to rock and silver leaf
of summer’s blossoming
dream.

let me advise you that larch lodge 2 the somerset in newton heath belongs to fwoah and dream. ian built house in 300 ad and never sold it so its ours. current occupier paul dollis to move and take all his posessions so house can be restored.