How can I be so incredulous about things
Such as Lord, you are my magnificent 
Friend, the first one whom I commune 
With, because You are the One
who goes forth conquers my foes
and silences the salacious snake
That lies and dies, yet tries all over again,
How obsequious; my dear friend,
There are but a billion other things, yet You Are!

Pen on paper is like breath in my lungs.
It is my write to live;
Describing, birthing, embracing.
Permission to give.

But the pen used ineptly,
Causes death.
Like throwing my pearls to swine,
Snuffs breath.

See the world distinctly?
Pearls?
A kaleidoscope of memories?
Or lucidly look differently?
A beggar, or free from the constraints of Western reality?
New eyes take in all perspectives: perceptions,
Compelling new experiences: horizons.
Releasing shame; distorted distractions.
Embracing imperfections, peccadillos,
Layers of realities,
Depths, and
Rationalities.
Diversely.
Maturely.

Little girl, big brimmed hat,
alone, with suitcases, travelling to boarding school she sat.
Wanting to be embraced by loving arms,
reassuring tones, peaceful pungent breaths, she calms,
but, the war loomed outside,
and onwards she tried.
The constant Chameleon: hairdresser, interiors, reporter and healer,
now, the season of inner healing to transform into a counsellor.
But, it’s the true counsel she heeds,
to transform from the wounds that bleed.
May she hear from You, Emmanuel; the One who truly heals.
May You lovingly embrace and hold all she feels.
May the little girl grow up into the woman You imagined,
And may she bloom into a lush garden with seeds You've planted.

Off the top of my head,
here are the body idioms that I can recall;
we could go eye for an eye,
or tooth for a tooth over them,
and we'd be neck and neck with all the phrases,
but we'd still fall short recalling them all, I'm sure.

We'd probably get bored,
because it's a tall order.
If it turns into a fight,
you may get sick to the stomach or
fall head over heels about it
and then you'd be really in over your head.

It might be a total, 'no-brainer!'
and I may continue for a little longer to pick your brains,
but you will start pulling your hair out, I'm sure.
I would then suggest a drink to let your hair down,
where you could oblige or tear your hair out in frustration.
We may even split hairs over the peculiarities of every phrase.

Perhaps you'll raise an eyebrow over some,
especially if you wear jeans and a T-shirt for a dinner party,
that will raise eyebrows!
If you're not nosy, then you'll move on,
and I will seal my lips about the subject.

You could then pay lip service to coax me back and sink your teeth into a new round.
But by that stage, all the sayings will be on the tip of my tongue and
I'll just have to face the fact that
there'll always be two-faced people in the world,
no matter how kind you are to include them in this game.

To know one's heart is to unlock yourself from the darkness of the mind; freeing the soul to live Its true self.

I
Try,
Over and over
Again.
I
Try,
Over and over
And over
Again.
I
Try.
I will
Not
Stop.

I cannot be everything to everyone!
I do not want to be everything to everyone!
I am not going to be everything to everyone,
because in the end, I will be nothing to everyone, and
I won't be me.

Poetry can be found anywhere;
In the simple and sublime.
In a tweeting Talaud Kingfisher,
Or a dry, dead gum leaf in your backyard or mine
Be inspired to look around,
And you can find provocation for every line.

simple delights: warm air carrying buzzing bees,
pollinating big trees, bringing me to my knees,
alive and grateful; yes, please!