I dream of you as fingers roam
to places deep within
and wonder how I ever lost
the urge to roar with sin.

My hands they wander, quicker now,
with eager memory
of how your limbs felt wrapped with mine,
though it has never been.

You loved me once in forest glade,
again on golden shore
you took me on a stormy night
and left me wanting more.

Now here I lie in shaking form
exhaling ragged breath
in hope that one day you'll return
to love me half to death.

My body is your witness,
please shake it to it's core,
how cruel it seems to leave me here
in lust forevermore.

So take these wanton letters,
this statement of my need,
then fill my ever lonely nights
with sweet debauchery.

~

Above the alabaster clouds,
and ever changing canvas skies
Along a stream of golden pearls,
encased in dreams and wayward sighs

Of glowing share and sunset cues,
where fate does fold on satin sheet
Beside the ripples carved in time
with effervescent moments sweet

There waits for you in splendored joy
that which you seek on endless days
To light the way of darkened shore
a path through oleander haze

Where held so tight with fingers pure
in crimson robe of pristine style
By one who lives within your heart
*alive within your precious smile

Someday our lonely eyes will meet
our fingers will entwine
and there within that moment
my heart will not be mine.

I'll give it to you gladly
to linger with your own 
your smile will be my waking breath
your loving arms my home.

I'll kiss you with each sunrise
rest my head with yours at dusk
and hold you through the ages
'till we crumble into dust.

I hold this dream with tender hands
in hope that it comes true
and wait here for the someday
when I belong to you.

The marchers make their way today
through town to Cardiff Bay
with whistles, shouts and banners up
for sweet old Mary Jane
they're marching for her freedom
all ages, colours, creeds
have come in joyful spirits
to help us free the **** 

The rich, the poor, the movers and shakers
the blowback kings and part-time partakers
the rollers, the tokers, the bongers and such
the teenage goth stoners who've had way too much
skin up as they march while making their point
and meet up with new friends while sharing a joint.

Then down at the bay side
when the bands start to play
they'll **** in the sunshine
till the end of the day.

Target practice, aiming high
shoot these stones and watch them fly
see them hit and watch them fall
dropping bottles, one and all.

Line them neatly in a row
dented plastic, all will go
crashing quickly to the ground
with this new skill that I have found.

Knock them over, stack them up
once again, I just can't stop
precision like you've never seen
to rival Katniss Everdeen.

She had an arrow and a bow,
I begged my dad but he said no
cause with an aim as true as mine
he thinks I'd end up doing time!

So pebbles, sticks and bits of string,
who knew the fun these things could bring?
the satsisfaction is quite grand
to fell these items with my hands.

I love to see my Dad impressed
because he is the very best
but even with his throwing arm
he cannot hit the neighbours barn!

and so I laugh and love to tease
while sitting here beneath the trees
he tries to make an angry face
but laughter cracks it with quick pace.

So I call him my " Bottle Boy"
shout "line them up" just to annoy
and shoot those bottles to the ground
another favourite pastime found.