cry, tawny moon,
prism of a dark wood,

the stars wave and hurry
flow in their rivers of black,

the skies, so far away,
gather their metal loops,

guard a dark world.

the poetry silvers the stars
carries them in a tender arc.

the summer roses
flower then unsettle,
crumple in the storm,
blow red to brown.

we sang of twilight,
of night and her
silver thrones,

the day ricocheted
like a bullet,
a rose blown numb,

the sea was eternities
voice, mascara the
night sky on her lash,

i cried like a bird
floating on the
nearly summer

breeze...
i’m in love with you,
ian.

leaves drifting
down dark lanes
that curve where the stream
dreams of the soft blues
of a sky that melts with
forgotten passions
and the greyer mists
of day dream
and the clouds
with their moods
of the wind and
their fields of
air, drift until
the sky winds
its streams of blue.

tonight i can't write poetry,
a star is just a star.

waves,
night falls,
blackness and
shadows,
the sea breathes
opals and anemone,
unfathoms the ghosts
of november's sweet slumber.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

out of the water, the water of ghost pools,
you rose, naked figurehead, oh, flower of night.
an impressionist's brush shook the water
like light reflected on moonstone.
****** of prisms, flowering, flowering,
lost ocean of star voices, forgotten star.
you sang and the night ran towards the sea,
you blossomed and the night became a wanderer.
nectar of the gods, sky-visionary, you sink into
the night like the petal of a rose, the grass almond-
eyed and whispering to you her dreams, fluttering
like a butterfly; little moonflower, you gather
the shadows and the song of the dark, the
drift of the clouds is your bare feet running,
the drift of the clouds, the cold sea crashing
in the harbour, the drift of the clouds,
the incredible overflowing of sky, poet-
ink and straying hair, the drift of
the clouds, everything that scatters
like you on the wind.

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

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.

"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 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.

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.

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.

the light flutters like ribbons,
the light gold leaf and flickering

amber, the light tenuous in her
gentleness, slumbering with her whims

and her sleep of blue earth, and air,
breath of joy, breath of dust.

night holds us and her daydreams are
a forgotten song, and night is like

the streams of water that awaken with
summer and her cool rivers of air, night with

her paradise far from the gathering
of limb and ledge, far from the leaves

of the dusk where the shadows tremble and the
water turns itself into tears, and we hear the

ghosts cry to the pretty sky,
sometimes we hear the ghosts cry.

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.

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.

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.

she wore a dress of silk that day
a coral comb set in her hair
to dress her curls a dark array
all black as night, as cold as air.

a sweet seductress so beware!
no man could ever win her charms
her beauty was a vision fair
a hellish haunt that death disarms.

she walked towards her lover's house
her soul was calling out to him
as quiet as a timid mouse
her pounding heart all silent sin.

for he was flesh and he was bone
and she a ghost, a cold temptress
and in her hair she wore a comb
to match the silk of her blue dress.

so how could any man resist
her ghostly spirit, cold as night
as if the very moon that kissed
the soulful sky that shone so bright

was hunting, searching night for him
her lover waited, knew her near
her ruby lips, the lanterns dim
in distant dreams she would appear.

she wore a dress of silk that day
a coral comb set in her hair
how could she so her love betray?
i'll tell the tale and climb the stair...

the moon a phantom all despair
he shook and then a deathly cry
she cut his throat, this vision fair
and flew from him across the sky.

they buried him beneath a tree
his life that languished at her hand
and now i'll end this fantasy
of ghoulish love in spirit land!

beware the witch, beware the knell
where ghosts do flaunt the midnight cold
for devil's pave the way to hell
and steal the souls that darkness sold.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

i've not written for a week.
i need to visualize, feed
on an image, grow out of
immense distance, slumber
on the rocks.
i need to paint a flower
in all its frailty, gather
the skies on the horizon.
until the bright lilies
have drowned me in their
white linens i will not feel whole.
gathering, gathering the world,
its moments stormy rooks.

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

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.

i stood there waiting like a
nettle with the moon's forget-me-not
eyes, wild flowers overflowing
down the little paths, i was the flower that
no one wanted, a black companion
****.
my cherry mouth was built of
forgotten orchards and swallow's wings,
while my hair was blown by the indigo wind,
the moon tap, tap, tapping on the door.

the whiteness of the land, the colours of
winter and how her song arose out of
the dark, bearing my soul like the
earth rediscovered, glistening in the
light, drawn out of hollows, the shadows
driven back, with a dry root's crazy thirst
that left me longing for rain.
the poetry could not quite free itself
from my lips, dragged me down to
the earth where i staggered with
the lost and the weary. i tried to get back,
but all i could do was sink into the frozen waste.
no, the poetry would not free itself, and
still i waited but it didn't seem to matter
now because leaf and moon and the
frosting that covered my body had left
me like a pale ghost in the wilderness
and all i wanted to do was sink into
the cold cornered night, sink and forget.

and i was the enchantment waiting to find you...

when i was a daughter of siam i cried so beautifully at night for my husband's love when i was asleep that i became his favourite wife and he promised to love me forever.

in this life fwoah dream destroyed the demons by saying "the magic number is three" aka the livin, aka boz the destroyer, my son's, favourite number. i heard them all blow up like some wild firework display all around the earth for about a month.

you know it's a demon when they start offering you a contract from behind some kind of wall. the trick is not to say anything in response as even saying 'go away' classifies as 'negotiating' which means they can carry on harrassing you. if you do not respond to the offered contract they then have to redo all their maths and offer you a new contract which they will repeat four times - usually the numbers involved stack up behind the name of the new contract which they will repeat 4 times and usually involve the number 4 and the number 7. if you still say nothing they have to leave you alone for 24 hours. expect them to get angry if they have to offer new contracts as they have to work out all their new numbers.

demons were originally fallen angels that bartered for peoples souls. this was all to do with peoples good and evil points which they could trade, but the demons became more and more evil and it was a silly idea anyway to barter with your soul.

question - when do you say the magic number is three if speaking to them classifies as 'negotiation'
the answer is you may say this after you have ignored them for an hour and then they will go up in smoke.

the only other thing you need to know about demons is you can only become a demon if you have *** with one.  

why i am posting this? it is useful information if you are being harrassed by demons and i think everyone should know what to do.

why does saying "the magic number is three work"? the demons can't survive the goodness in saying 'the magic number is three' after all the evil they have done with the number's 4 and 7. remember words are very powerful things.