Sorry! Pocket dial!
It's been a crazy Christmas season!
Never a dull moment
and never without a drama.
Strength doesn't come by on its own,
it requires training i suppose.

Have a beautiful day today
where you can really smell the crisp air,
look at the garden and the trees
doing their best everyday come what may,

see the wonderous sky and notice
the potential for peace and joy
the way your father appreciated
the very important things in life
that we often miss...

We can learn so much and appreciate so much
when we are given the time to reflect on the past
and dream into our future.

The answer is yes.

It will be more than okay,
It will be better and you will be stronger, wiser and more loving than you dreamed,
The answer is yes
I hear you
Yes, the answer is yes
Sing a song in your heart,
sometimes you pick,
other times life wants its soundtrack.

What ever the case,
sing your troubles away,
sing your joys out loud
A song is a prayer
And a prayer is a conscious action to begin moving to a better place
In connection with the kosmos
Everything is with us all the time,
we cannot separate ourselves from any of it;
not what we see or don't even know about,

We  just move through it in different ways together. Even when we feel alone we are still all moving in it together,

always.

sometimes its as simple as  remembering to reach out with a prayer
and breathe in the answer
❤

Lot of me is a lie

I can't live along

If I fail to make up

Those beautiful lies of me

Hard truths may force me to brash me up

But a lie to myself

Boost up confidence

Hell, I can't stop eating

If the judgement day comes the very next day

I feel like river water.
And I don’t belong to stagnancy,
yet I’m caught in a lake.

•••

I’m destined
to move silt and sediment.
And overturn
submerged pebbles
so they won’t see
the green of moss.

I’m meant to surge
and eat into banks
so I could be split -
to make more of me...

My reach would extend
far and wide -
like scraggly fingers
grabbing at the
face of the earth.

My energy channelling
through careless forks
and into slimmer branches.

•••

My soul is river water....
And my heart renounces
the throne to idleness.

Yet I am,
but a lake.

He had a blackened beard he was
Out of his face,
On his sledge adorned with the
Flayed  skin of those on the
Naughty,
&
Nice
List, those deemed unworthy for
The gifts to bring this night,
Those houses with no
Cans,
Bottles,
Mince pies,
To line his stomach, from the offerings
Of 40% alcohol that fuelled his laughter,
Vomiting induced from heights, over
Gardens,
Roofs,
People
Killed from frozen missiles of *****
From above high,
He would sneak upon those
Deemed unworthy,
"In the eyes of children"
He would never harm an
Innocent,
Young,
Cradled
With love, but the naughty list
"Wasn't of children"
It was parents unjust,
Cruelty
Neglect,
Violence
"Against those unable to defend themselves"
He was the protector
Of the innocent ones
The elves would hold the parents down
As Serial Santa
Shouted out the charges, so each was heard
Ears bleed as his voice pierced sound,
He would be the
Judge,
Jury,
Executioner  
"For their time was coming to an end"
Some begged,
Screamed,
Spat in his face,
He would go in his black bag
And from nowhere,
"A sound proof room for justice"
Was to be served as children
"Where not to be disturbed"
As parents screamed out,
He had finished flayed bodies
Disappeared within his black sack
"The odd finger picked up"
Used as a toothpick to get
Flesh stuck between teeth out,
"But what about the children you say"
"They were fine"
"Never woke, slept in peace"
"I don't ****** parents for fun"
"Ok"
"I get a little satisfaction"
"From them coming to their deserved end"
"Thousands in these hundreds of years"
"Dispatched in to the bag, still not full"
"After so many kills through the years"
"Cloning is the way forward"
"Been pioneers in this for hundreds of years"
New parents for a new day the best present
A serial Santa could give,
H A P P Y   C H R I S T M A S   P A R E N T S
Prey that your nice, for I **** for the
Children, they deserve *better in life,

I am like a man
That lives inside a very small cube
      **And is deathly afraid of corners

They say home is where the brain committed suicide* first
Hushed conversation overheard
Flushed worth down the drain
And as it spun
The dark corners never seemed so inviting
Enticing how the pain makes you notice yourself when no one else does
Reality is a setback that you've sat through and kept mum about
Contemplating the things that are all in your head more than things that actually are
You've already done it a thousand times
And accepted the indifference growing like vines that intertwine in your mind
Now your thumb is out and you're looking for a ride
Not any particular place, just "away"
Toward somewhere not quite like this

*You use a tied rope as a taxi cab

In his absence
She often feels incomplete

Like a hot summer's day
without any heat

Like a puzzle
with a missing piece

Or a lamb
without any fleece

Like a table
without a chair

Or having one shoe
short of a pair

Like a bed
without a pillow
and a blanket

Or a complex maze
without an exit

Like having a driver's license
but no car

Or a night sky
without a shiny star

Like having a fishing line
without tackle and bait

Or a picket fence
without a gate

This feeling
is one
she is always happy
to delete

Having said all that
her poem
is now
complete

By Lady R.F. (C)2017