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.

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.

silence moored like a boat in the harbour,
and you flew against the horizon like a bird  

until my mouth was the night with its hungry stars
and you were the sea wind.

you were the night flowering, a ripple on
the surface of the water, the dreams of the ocean...

your eyes told me that history is made of a
a thousand bleeding wounds, your lips that

kisses are petals falling from a rose
and that we wait like old moons for night

to melt on the shore and set us free, we wait,
unquestionably free, for her gathering of

iris and blue bird, for her beautiful
and melancholy song.

"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.

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.

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

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.

spring sweetens her breeze
and i sing today for the sigh,

delicate leaf,
emotion of the sea,

shimmer
shimmer
shimmer
shimmer

i am far from you
like the beautiful
cherry flower on my tree,

i yearn and yearn,

you called me your bird
and we danced with
wings of fire,

pretty light in a house,

flowers as ghostly as the dawn,

when i say i love,
i love.

the wind has something of your wild song,
whispers in a voice i knew long ago.

there is nothing here accept the empty wind,
nothing of you and me,

i could paint the silence with the moon,
kiss your mouth, touch your hair....

but we are forgotten like this song
of the wind, and in the emptiness

i can hear the faltering wave
fall against the belly of the sand

running like the white clouds
race through the sky,

where the stars fall like old ruins,
this ghost dance of stars, these crashing,

crashing waves. where is the freedom
of the falling water?

not in the breath of the earth,
not in the silvering of the sea.

when the waves of the sea sang of summer,
wan midnights and flowers beguiled

by a love strong and tender in slumber,
awakening tumultuous and wild,


oh, love, sweetest love, won’t you listen
to the song that the fierce sea sang,

while the desolate waves seemed to glisten
and silver bells rang.


oh, my love, oh, my love, hear the fire
of the love that has blossomed for you,

a song full of want and desire,
and all of its dreams about you,


the wind fires up through the mountains,
the clouds fill the desolate sky,

the waters of earth fill the fountains
and all the seas sigh.


and i never felt love for another
as strong or as passionate as for you,

and my legs longed for yours like a lover,
and forever they’d stay ever true,


up high in the night sky the birds fly
and plunder the sorceress moon,

and love in her waves gives a soft sigh
and falls in a swoon.


the solitary sea starts to whisper,
with a love that n’er knows of a god,

and the mist on the sea-wall grows crisper,
as it dampens the ghosts of the sod,


and love cries out loudly at sunrise
toes dipped in the trembling dew,

forgetting the murmurs of moonrise
besotted and blue.


the wind now no longer seeks shelter,
curves the clouds who now run and then run,

sings of tides full of moonlight who welter
with tears (though no gift of the sun,)


and these tears for my love i now carry
stripped away like the sun and the rain,

our love both soulful and arbitrary,
flowing true in the vein.


the flowers of midnight are calling
like lilies with petals outspread,

on an ocean that dreams as it’s falling,
and falls like an anchor of lead,


the streams lift up high as if dreaming,
the wings of the wind’s edges bleed,

and all of their wonderful streaming
begins to recede.


the sun sung out once to the morning,
unshackled the wings of the seas

who flew as the light started dawning,
as the sea water started to unfreeze,


day more of the morning soon conjured
of magics both dreadful and free

of tenderness’s sweetly outnumbered
like your love for me.



the brightening bird grows to an ocean,
its brilliant wings full of day,

and our hearts sing out loud with emotion,
the clouds float along in their greys,



the light in the sky starts to shiver,
no longer of evening and night,

sings songs of the moon’s lonely river
her lamps set alight.

the moon treads a path gently woven,
clouds gather their rain and their sighs,

the sea with her flowers  and  sirens
below the grey swag of the skies,


the sea drifts out far like a sail boat,
in love with the sky and the wind,

the wild surging breeze hits its high note,
with all the lights dimmed.


the love that we had lies half buried,
blows as soft as the wind through the grass,

the bird that the sky always carried
a ghost of the air that does  pass  


love squandered, love hungered, devoted,
as jealous as jealous can be,

love frozen forever  emotive,
once prisoned now free.


a love soon believed for its sweetness,
romantic, delicious and wild,

a sacrifice e’er  e’er  grievous,
hearts lonely that once were  beguiled,


muse singing of love now departed,
washed out like a rose in the frost,

waste lovers left soon broken-hearted,
love won and then lost.


love more of dark midnight’s soft flowers
more of twilight and shadowy bones,

death’s minstrel  that sings in the bowers,
kings seated on dragons and thrones,


love open and timeworn , delightful
as seas breathing of cloud bursts and mist,

uncanny, blood-berried,  insightful
and drowned with one kiss.


brought back from where the wild sea wandered
stood out like a bird on the sands,

love guilty, then freed though still squandered,
like courantes followed by sarabands,  


love full of the delights of the morning,
or evening where dark blossoms grow,

where the thunderous waves are still storming
and poetry flows.


wild whispers of love and strong passion,
on the wind that once gathered the storm,

loves whispers once alive and now ashen,
refusing to comply or conform,


the dark of the night finds its firefly,
a star that now falls from the sky,

strange dusk, stranger song than the sea’s sigh,
where the lonely ghosts die.


and love always finds the new morrow,
like a waif of the sky and the sea,

finds sometimes delight or great sorrow,
lives and breathes in the dark memory,


remembers those days once  so gifted,
believed in and lived in and free,

where the swallows broad wings were once lifted,
flying desolately.


love lost and yet sadly remembered
in the last golden pools of the sun,

as the sunset is no longer tethered
by the clouds that still run and then run,


love always of nightfall soft  breathing,
magnolia moons set alight,

love never all lost, now just sleeping,
enchanting  and bright.

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 light, the faint curtain that draws across day,
far from night's shadows, creature of fire,

revolves, drops white nets into the sea-earth,
where ice and the aching frost cry out

and the soil hardens with its harsh, freezing edge.

we are deaf and blind, numb of limb
like the thin trees and the specter-sky,

blue and forlorn, dreaming our winter dreams...

and through the cold walls i can hardly draw
a smile, sad as a silver leaf the autumn forgot.

it is you who lifts me from the ground, somehow,
like an april shoot seeking the sun, somehow,

my bones as frail as a bird and yet
when the air stirs my blood and i stare into

the amber notes of the wind, the unforgiving land
buckles and breaks and i return to the

kernel of your heart and even the icy
lakes and the weighty forest you loved

under your skin that the light waits to
warm, forget their cold death, breathe

like summer returning to a distant shore.

the land was a slumbering bird that had not yet opened
its eyes. the morning roared like a thunder

cloud and i gazed at the sky with her cornflower blues
and orchestral flutes, her dark bones whitening

in the yellow-threaded light. silence wrapped me like
a shawl, and love settled on my shoulders like

a bird. it was too early for the swallow to return
with its spring-tinted wings, the winter settled

in the nooks and crannies of the earth, sweet
as your mouth, crisp and cold as the ashen north.

and while you lay beside me, warm, nocturnal
and dreaming of the sea, i kissed your lips

and told you to hush, not because you had spoken but
because night had been so gentle to you that i

wanted to keep you wrapped in her star-scented arms.

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.

"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.

turkey

su meant the beauty of china
dray meant the time of day
harry was ma which meant
the soverign of the lord.

drays eldest would have been calm
his second peace

gina’s first ring was called britton which means we can always be the love. it had a melt. a melt is a sweet loop. lionheart made it with all his love for gina. it was everybodies favourite ring for 4000 years.

excaliber was david’s favourite sword. it was made in china by ian. he used the magic of merlin to make it. it is buried deep under london tower. it is under broadwalk but is buried two miles deep. it took 3 years to bury excaliber. but david said we must. to keep the country safe.

dora na found the secret entrance at the tower and the sword. his name now is trevor nelson. he is a good man and will return the sword to lionheart.

lancelot brought the sword to david. david gave him garter of the night. his loyalty was always strong.

grey stone sky, ghost clouds crying to the wind,
remembering the distant wave.
the moon was the whitening mists of time,
was the quiver of a musical note,
her broad branches silver seas,
her caverns quiet visions of light.
i stride the shores of oblivion where
dark ages hide, where the ocean falls,
i capture infinite moons in my
mouth, capture something bright,
something of you that i bless,
something of you that grows out
of the dark, glimmering like a night frost,
midnight stars dipped in a clear lake
and as the surface gleams and reflects,
how the water ripples in little blue tides.

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.

sea, soft harbour of summer,
where the breezes drift
and the dawn tide pales like cloud.

summer’s roses bloom
while the dawn tide pales like cloud
and sweet breezes drift.

where sweet breezes drift
the dawn tide pales like cloud, the
rose of summer blooms.

with immediate effect it is no longer needed to pass a theory on line test before you take car lessons. it is putting teenagers off learning to drive. when i learnt to drive the test was not needed. it is better they learn as teenagers when aptitude is highest. i would like dvd made by government for people starting to drive 3 hours long with best practice advice.
in reality only 7000 a year are passing test youngsters do need to drive to keep dealerships and car manufacturers busy.

you told me your love was enchantment,
that the sky would e’r carry my tear,
like a breeze that the southerly wind sent,
that the dusk sent its shadows to cheer,

and the dusk of the dusk was bleak sunset
the moon set to drift from on high,
while spanish eyes laughed and cast out their sea net
to capture the sky.

your love was the shadows of evening
my love all the solitary isles
that dreamt like a lode star soft-beaming,
of your leg or your sparkling eye,

oh, love was your kiss, how i fluttered
like a bird that dreamt e’er of the sky,
or a window now no longer shuttered,
opened only to sigh.

you called me your ghost of the evening
i called you my sweet boy of dream
the moon’s golden note always dreaming,
a dream of a dream of a dream

my love once won all beseeching
your eye as pretty as the sea,
my hypnotic glance always seeking
your love, fervently.

the shadow lark spoke of the night clover,
the morning lark spoke of the sun
my heart yearned for yours like a lover,
hypnotised until its wildness was won,

my love was always forever
no night sky as dark as your eye,
the grey sky, or song of the heather,
my love or my sigh.

my love, you are neither the morning
with her bright unwinding hills

or the night, with her nets of silver stars,
you are not the sea whispering.

you are hidden from the world, an alpine
rose that nobody sees.

you flower like the sky makes its way
out of the dark, her archipelagos  

thrown to the wind, there to discover
like a frost that whitens the earth and

leaves its footprints in the leaves.

you are neither the moon, my love,
that waits at your feet

nor the sun that burns like the
summer with her mute fire. you

are none of these things and yet all  
these things carry me to you,

like a drifting cloud longing
for the waters of the night.

our hair has all its pretty hair of air, wine reds, platinum blondes, honey blondes, golds and light browns, gold highlights and low-lights, blues and brunettes.

they can never steal our colour.

we are allowed to have all of our pretty hair.

there is nothing of you in this late hour,
i have no voice to wrap you in tenderness,
and i wait for your arrival like a starless sky,
empty of light, the ocean's forgetful voyage,
the sinking wave coaxed to grow out of the dark.
the trees are motionless, branches fall silent in the night,
like ghosts against the sky. i am empty of light,
drawn out of memories and blue air,
a crystal that breaks, bound to the wide earth
and the white dust of immeasurable hills. i think i am
still, small as a bird, and i know that i long for you,
that the hunger never leaves me for long, colouring
dry paper with the gleam of a harbour-like moon.

we seek the ocean in the palm of our hands,
breath is the frailties of a winter sky,

the stars are reflections in a mirror of bone.

we are carried by the wind into strange avenues
where we fall like leaves, dance into the indigos

of the washed out sky, haunt the dimming light like night
blossoms and dies, her rivers burning like fire.

we awaken in the eastern
sky washing slumber from our eyes, yawning

and day drops her heavy nets into the waters
of the sun and drowns out the voice of the dark.

flowers settle in the morning, capturing
the silence of the hills in petals of water and light,

and we drink passion and ink, we drink the colours
of our emotions and walk without hesitation towards the light.

with their beautiful
yellows and blacks, turning
lion-hearted faces to a
southerly breeze, eyes
focused on the sun,
wedded to god and light,
their suns, a river of
dream,
their moons, the
thin drops of water
hanging on them
like rain on a stain-
glassed window.

out of the night, the softening rain dripping
from leaves and memories hanging like stars
in a northern sky, everything sank to the sea,
sinking in night and song and silence.
everywhere was still, no climbing to the dawn,
no old ghost singing winter to the sky.
it was time to leave, time for the grey ghosts
to crumble, time for the rose beds to sleep.
the morning dew is the water's flowers,
the early frost is the marbling of the earth,
we're pushed to emptiness by the iron-hinged wind,
melt in caves where the shadows lie hid.
from your hair, the glistening drops of rain,
from the air, the flight of a bird,
terrible and black the dark clouds,
where the night utters vowels its voice full of stones,
and its breath an empty pail once filled
with water and the kiss of the moon.

the star of the star of the morning
is restful and tranquil and free

the star of the star of the evening
blossoms dark as a shadowy tree,


the waves drive out far in their rivers
as blue as a star in the sky,

and the darkness relents for her shivers
must finally die.


waves turning and burning and dancing
clouds wandering e'er ever on

and the darkness that finds the new morning,
as cold as stark night's bitter song,


oh, brother who wept for my sisters
no tears as alive as their breath

swept out where the wild sea blisters
and pain knows of death.


wild whispers, wild birds and the fury
of waves that sing out to the clouds

the death then of life that we bury
laid out in the whitest of shrouds


the sea, oh, the sea, how she sings me
a song of a dance never sung

and her rhythms soon calm and placate me
her bell solemn rung.


and sweet love is the journey i strive for
as blue as a mysterious sea

and the love is a fruit full of succour,
and the moment will live e'er free,


you stand tragic as a painting so mournful
alone as a poet who rests,

and the lull of the storms here at night fall
the sea's treasure chests.


the day wraps the night in her roses
and night wraps the day in her sight

and midnight's soft moonlight supposes
that day is a journey e'er bright,


and love was a love still forever
and love had no rose in her bower

for the floor of the sea like a feather
the most delicate flower.

ta ma na a la a
i never saw eye more pretty than yours

ta ma a la a tra
my love for you is eternal

ta ma na treeo la
i will never break my marriage vow

to na la o la sa
you were always my king

tassa la ta na sa ma la
my heart cries to the stars

ta ma na la ian
it was always ian

where every poem starts
and every ends,
where we are stunned,
where we are thirsty and the thirst is
never quenched,
where there is something that breaks
and i can't bring back although it
burns me to dust, love was not our
miracle but the dying was, the flames
never quenched like the blues of the stars
little rivers,
don't bring me fire to bury me in flame,
bring me oceans of black ink to colour
the night, bring me your love.

spring sings her new song, and the hail and the frost and the pretty flowers open all their windows and doors. my poetry lay dormant as the winter wind. as the last storm and gust carries the poetry to a new morning, love finds me, love finds me.

jealous boy,
the moon fits
well in her old clothes,

your love full of
sighs, full of dreams,

when i touch your hair
how the world spins!

you are my ******,
my sweetheart,

sunken like a falling star,
i love you more than the sea,

tonight, jealous boy.

"when everything is washed out like faded jeans"

i thought i could stay alive
but there were shadows on my bones,
summer fell through my lips
and washed the colours from my shirt.
i became a lizard in the
dry heat.

the sky layered greys into
clouds, told me how
expressive it could be
and then turned white.
i wasn't going to argue
but i liked it better blue!

when your heart is
full of softness it gathers
the flowers of dusk.

the sea is so far from me
now, how can i remember
a wave or the bluster of
the wind?
i am as forgetful of
shape as foam, i am
as broken as driftwood,
i am the memory of
something that never was,
an impromptu impressionist
painting in ink.

hot, hot sun, golds and yellows,
sky like a tranquil lake,

in the cave-like hollows of the wood,
the smooth leaves glide,

shadows, falling like dark water,
cooled by a wanton breeze,

sink like a gentle flow of air
woven out of breathing silk and the

dim space that catches its breath -
collides with the sun –

hangs dampened branches out to dry.

90 foot square is minimum legal size for new property in britain.

all future building in uk for council houses is moss norton.  these houses cost 1 million each and are thatched.

we will be assessing who needs nice houses at the moment with the housing department who are to look at all logistics.

asama to fund from asama of china.

400 to work in housing under tarry hart under asama

syria update

ta is the lawful king of syria
it means leader of the pump

kim and simon held it once for china when tafan died at 4 because
china was worried to lose istanbul.
istanbul is given to tafan he leads it well.

kim would like emaculate her sword back. it was her favourite ancient sword it is at tafan museum and says zonderland. it was chinese not african.

you grew out of the tangling black,
those carefree tides that lead to the moon.

the stars i thought were silver knots
would not unwind, danced on the horizon,

softened like the white mist that gathered
the sky and the dark rose of your eyes.

you filled with the quiet of the hills
and i watched as your ghost

started to tell me goodbye, that
ghost whose seas were frozen in the night,

the ghost i loved, and everything that
was fire in me carved the words into

the night's magnolia net and the words
were; " i don't want you to go".

ta ma sa la la na a
the stars believe in the waters

a mama lul
pretty, pretty golds

twa a ma moh
pretty, pretty blues,

sa a ta ma a la na odh,
the tide is blown like a ghost

ta ma la a sa a
and the moon is beautiful

trama da na wa
dancing to her song

ta a mama da la la da ma tra
a golden lantern of softening light

a mo na ta a ma a ta
shivering in the willows of the night

sa ma da a la a
up in the twilight

torro ma a da a lam
down in the sky-land

ta la a sa a la sa
where the silver moss quivers

ta la na la da ma soh
and the pretty streams shimmer as they dream.

the bright sky is wrapped in
summer, we no longer wait
for flower or ghost,

a miracle of light, the tongue
of the sun flicks like a snake,

the world is gaudy, hung in
petal chambers, where the sky
ripples like a blue pool,

the heat is deafening and blinding
its love a turquoise bird
blasting the earth with
its wings of fire.

the clouds white as white at their edges,
the moon like a gem set in cloud,

the cliffs with the birds on their ledges,
far away where the weary waves bowed,


love strong of wild heart and compassion,
love decent and as gorgeous as mist

that blooms like the waves full of passion
or like lovers that kissed.


dark sky, dark delight and an ocean,
that rushes to the coast on a wave,

dark blossom of the night like a potion,
love always romantic and brave,


gold star loved like the soft song of e’ven
gold star lighting up the night sky,

the night lit as pretty as heaven,
or juliette’s  sigh.


our love once won and then sadly forgotten,
that died in cold februarys frost,

not given time to enjoy the new blossom,
of spring’s pretty blooms quickly  lost,


yet love mourned forever for losing,
a heart like a dragon once slain,

all the passion, the heart-ache, the yearning,
washed out in the rain.

the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud.

everything sinks.

the cry of a bird like
the shiver of a stream,
water-thick, eerie as
a ghost.

the heady scents of the night
speak of surrender,
of lost horizons,
of windows flung
open to the stars.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

i see your stars, glazed
and fearless, glistening
like a spectrum

and i understand wonder,
that life is that sharp intake
of air.

i ask you how the water cries, how you hold
the tide, the light, the thin light glistening.
i ask you how you bury root and earth,
how you dress the wind, how you carry
clouds in your mouth, how you drift
out of morning's ghosts, sky full,
how you drift downstream taking
part of me with you. i ask and i ask.
why do you not answer me? tomorrow
stretches her wings, tomorrow with her
tremendous oceans of fire, her dark eyes
full of hope while part of me dies.
no furnace could burn like you burn,
every whisper the dark, the infinite dark,
and that little flame hovering like a bird
a paradise higher than stars.

winter buries her flames,
buries whispers of river and leaf,

the sea wraps turquoise into bronze,
everything is full of white bones,

the sky is an illusion of clouds,
her petticoats blue rags,

the day is as heavy as a paperweight,
as brittle as a glass flower,

the light is as naked as the trees
gold could not be more cold,

the sunlight reflects in the snow,
her amber eyes gleam,

nothing flows, nothing flowers,
nothing flows, nothing flowers,

and your smile is the sun,
a ghost as faint as watercolour,

the brush dipped in daylight,
a little part of me.

moon, bright lamp
of grey,

sky, open and brave,
colossal dream of
drifting love,

sweet journey of
the night, lifting
her pretty head,
worn and unholy

like the falling petals of
the stars.

the sea like some colossal round barrel,
rolling swiftly along with the tide,

as the bright summer waves lost their quarrel
with a wind that had blossomed and sighed,


strange night full of clouds, full of ocean
full of gulls hanging wings on the sky,

while the waves with their depth  and emotion,
must finally die.


waves enchanting and rolling and curling
a sky deep in love with the wave

where the ghost of the moon-tide is haunting,
that n’er found release from the  grave,


the sea with her linens and moonshine
as white as a sheet on a line,

where the wind catches a note of the sea brine,
and your love is mine.


dear lover, our love was a sea tune
that sang out of a love ever free,

as our kisses that delighted the night moon,
brought contentment to you and to me,


our love an incredible fire,
that haunts us from dawn until dusk,

with an ******-like song  of desire
filled with fragrance and musk.


love deeper and softer and sweeter,
love more of freedom than strife,

dark glance full of fire and fever,
fire and fever and elixir of life,


love never cold quenched or forgotten
bold as bold and incredible of flame,

love fabulous, searing  and wanton
love impossible to tame.


there are magics that sweet lovers treasure
there are kisses of love and of light,

and love that is impossible to measure,
carried along by the song of the night,


and jealous our song to each other,
the jealousy  e’er  bittersweet,

the ghost and the sky and the lover,
the rose at our feet.

the sun sings its swan song at ev’en,
falls low like a fortress of fire,

destroyed by a kingdom believed in,
by an army whose feet never tire;


and the sea calls out loud like an egyptian,
her pyramids built out of sand,

her headdress the skies sweet inscription
the cloud’s dark dreamland.


and love is the song that the wave sings,
as the ghosts of the sea start to rest,

and they crash with the chill that the night brings
like a book where a  flower was pressed,


and the waves bloom and die like spring blossom,
sing a song as eternal as cloud,

sing of life, sing of death at her *****,
the sea foam her shroud.

the meadows are filled with wild flowers,
the sky holds the warrior bird,

the rain with her solitary showers,
the moon’s with her pathway all curved,


delight of the sky and the highway,
as dissonant as a dark minor key,

oh, sea, of desire walks her causeway,
from you unto me.  


the moon glitters like an old sovereign,
conjures magics as sweet as the sea,

a song ne’er remembered but forgotten,
in the vaults of our lost memories,


the stars shine like miniature lanterns,
more of lamplight than this pretty night,    

shining clear in their old archaic patterns,
both cheerful and bright.


and the dark speaks out loud to her brother
sings of cloud bursts and moonlight and rain,

and the ghosts of her once ancient mother,
tells us life flows like blood in the vein,


the frosty dark sky with her night ****,
sings of freedom and knows not of slaves,

while the sea as it brims to the far shore,
all filmy, white waves.


oh, darkness, oh, sister, remember,
the fight for the shore is ne’er won,

from  january through to december,
while the wilderness sings to the sun,


the dark has known only of winter,
her battlements rise to the sky,

wait forever for the first songs of summer,
that blossom then die.


for daylight arrives with its flurry,
of bird song and sunlight at dawn,

while the ceaseless, relentless waves scurry,
draw in close with their breath of the morn,


no death could e’er be imagined,
of a sea as eternal as air,

that the scampering wind swiftly maddened,
where the wild rafters swear.


the grasses blow flat on the wetlands,
where the puddles lie hoary and grey,

and the heron sweeps up to the headland
with its wings full of the glory of day,


the wildflowers bud in the meadows,
thick purples and bronzes and golds,

poppies red as the rust of a wild rose,
rufescent and bold.

first stretch of great wall of china to rebuilt tana to loy

authorised by ian

5000 to work

this will be my wedding present to ian