Thank goodness every day isn’t the same as the last .......
like a warrior
You fight two steps forward and face towards the sun
You are your own hero
Where there is no other
Be the person
Who finds the silver lining
Even if it’s only a slither

I was crawling out of a hole as deep and dark as the sentiment in your eyes
A meaningful moment of surrender beckoned
But I found myself
Crawling backwards it seems

Fingertips touching the glasses rim
and then my lips
Cherry blossom comes to mind

Remembrance comes and goes

Take the broken crayons
I don't care if they still colour the same
They are broken god dam you

I write so that I may escape
But from this
From this there is no where to run

Wise is the man who draws his gun fastest
Wiser still is the man that walks away slowly giving himself another day
Wisdom is born from the toil of hardship
From the knowing within your soul
You know that initiative retch in your gut that this is the truth
The right or the wrong of it
Wisdom comes when we stop and listen to our own truths
And stop blaming those that we feel are obstacles in our path
For they just may be the one sent in this life to hold us up when we fall
Or sometimes
We use them to reflect ourselves onto
It’s all in the journey my friend
So raise your face upwards
And taste the true essence of all that is you

Like a child
I will build a den
With blankets thrown over tattered sofas
Corners stretched and pulled
Tucked in edges
Tables wanting to be castles
Carpets
Moats and dungeons
Beware
Entrance only open
To those who know the secret password
Friends etched in China cups
Bears replace the need for human touch
Dolls speaking in the oldest of tongues
Your brother tied to the nearest tree
Indians are coming it's time to flee
The blankets have fallen
The toys are all free

Sorry is a stupid word.
The thought before the action wasn’t sorry.
The action was meaningful in whatever form it took.
Keep your sorries.
Change the thoughts that run riot and cause chaos.
Action speaks loud.

Love

Lonely word that causes joy and pain and has the weight of the world upon its shoulders .

Only when we love ourselves will we be ready to find true love
Are we born loving ourselves ?
In which case we are just pulling down the brambles that have grown around us to find our way back to self.

Vows made between lovers
To be torn by  
or kept sacred
Only time will tell.

Everlasting renewal
Of feelings that we thought would stay hidden but in reality only sit just below the surface.

This is love
Love is this and so much more

Egg shells as sharp as the edge of your tongue
And I tip toe
As to not make a sound on your deep pile carpet
Childhood really wasn’t much different
At least I know how to behave
and grateful
At least this isn’t a place I call home

My soul no longer weeps,
Therefore poetry is rarely created.
Though when asked for an answer to some simple question,
People remark
Oh how poetic your words.
A wordsmith you must be.
And so I guess poetry is ingrained into my very being.
And it’s weeping will flow through my life
Like a river running to quench the thirst of a hungered man.
My existence therefore
Will be to bring words to life.
To bring sunshine to the grey pavements which are the minds of those who have fallen asleep, and no longer see rainbows in the petrol stains left by leaking cars.
And who no longer want to feel the weight of the world.
Poetry will always be my purpose.
My soul
My soul is full and overflowing.

Put your hand in my hand
Are you ready?
Let’s go ...

I turned
Quite suddenly
It took my breath away
I looked into his eyes
I sensed
That here
Here
In his eyes

Somehow he felt like home

She said she loved you.
Then trampled on your desires.
She said she cared.
But preferred him in the end.
She held you close as your heart broke.
And she then turned away as you surrendered your soul

I’d like to reach out to you
But it’s not allowed
The universe had other things planned
Twirled around in circles
of writing poetry and sending my head in a spin
Has now been swopped for
A peaceful garden ,quiet life and homemade jam
Sounds slightly boring
But there’s a hell of a lot of peace of mind in my world nowadays .
I miss spending dark late nights with you
Laughing ,crying ,just learning to breath
But there’s more
More of something always comes along

Anxiety
Forming
Taking shape
Like an alien within
Morphing into
Moving
Stretching
Getting comfortable
Taking over
Until
Paralysis sets in

She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky