She knows she appears out to lunch

However, she still chooses to speak with her tongue piled up with turkey.

To speak with any other sort of tongue would not be good practise


She enjoys gathering wool indoors enough to have found out there is something behind the fibre she yarns  that enables her to succumb to the counting of sheep after dark.

Her lamb heart was born in pink salt lakes that have dyed the very fabric of the rat race she seems to exist with.

Others find it hard to see the worth in waiting for the cows to come home

She does not

Nor does she hide her interest in a mid day meal.

She will always decline an offer of dessert,

Even when asked with a pleasant smile.

She’s firm about not wanting any unfamiliar tastes in her mouth.



She mostly chews the chud of what a lot of locals have been known to call Greek,

they stumble when having to devour the bitter, nutritious or not, it remains an unfavoured diet.



Her time is mostly spent in what gives the impression of being nothing more than a brown study. This is where she takes delight in brushing her fingers across some old chestnuts and a small tale about a fish that sits neatly under the desk. But more than this, her heart gets to rest upon the sight of her well made peacock

He rarely fans his heavy wings, his poise alone holds ample power, it convinces her of her own shyness.



I can only twig it’s her lily like liver  that makes her feel

She should not pay any attention to the complimentary piece of cake that sits right next to her, silently

Change.
Less like the turtle that peeks out of it's shell
and more like the orchid blossoming for the first time.
With little rhyme or reason,
the unwatched season will pass you by if you let it.
The fortune unfavoured or the sunset unsavoured,
they will pass well over the horizon
if you refuse to give them your attention.

So it is,
so it will always be
and so we see that every opportunity
that is given to us from the hands
of God... or whatever...
is a lesson that we must learn the first time
lest we have to learn again.
Nine times out of ten, what you want
is not just going to strut up and knock on your front door one day...
but on that one time where the stars align
in your favour and you are given the chance to shine,
you have to make. that. count.
If you can focus every bit of talent you have
and crush it down into the size of the head of a pin,
then that's many times better than spreading it out even.
Men live and die under the eye of criticism
and if you can rally yourself to what you want to do
and what you believe in...
Then you can make it through.
I'm not in the habit of making promises,
but I can assure you that there is not many thing in this life
that you can't overcome if you try your very hardest
and someone who will do their best 100% of the time
is worth their weight in stardust.

There was a time when I would've fenced down a giant,
but at the same time was facing a tyrant
when it came to my own emotions.
It was all false notions that it was too hard or too painful,
when instead of blinking the tears away
and etching a smile on my face,
I kept thinking that there was more to a problem with one solution.
You've got to try.
You've got to deny that there is anything
that can stare you down or tear you down,
you've got to plant your feet to the ground
and sound every alarm.
Because you are not giving up.
Not again.
Not this time.

On this day, I was broken
On this day, my world stopped 
On this day, my life was reduced
On this day, pain consumed me 
and this consumption never left 

I went to bed broken-hearted 
I woke up broken-hearted 
My life was pain 
Pain was all I knew 
I wept until I could weep no more 

My spirit was locked in a dark room 
It was empty 
reason departed me 
there was nothing 
I had nothing 

My joy was stolen 
My labour unfavoured
I screamed
Yelled 

Suicide was a friend 
Depression my lover
Bitterness my worship 

I tried to pray
I tried to believe, 
but my mind could not. 

My spirit and flesh
withered,
but still my soul thirsted. 

It searched;
Hoped 
Prayed 
Believed 
Submitted 
Fought 
To find God. 

It knew
He is my answer 
The truth and the way 
The truth is God 
and in Him 
I rested.

Up amongst the billions of galaxies,
Clusters of lucent fragments, with each being a star
All part within an ever expanding plane of space,
Where existence will cease, and a birth of eternal dark.

Have you ever wondered, while staring out from the vale that
Evanesce will your memories, and our promises fade unwillingly?
When our time equals cipher, can any life imprint?
I believe now that it can, after I met you Emily.

It matters not to me if God exists, and i'm stubborn after death
Enraptured, with all that I have hold of right now,
My love unto you bestowed, until my last breath.

The matter that makes us, journeyed for eons as time allowed
A collection of stardust, formed from elder stars that passed
After all, living is it's own reward and what matters is right now
The universe sure took its time, but it brought us together to last.

Up amongst the billions of galaxies,
clusters of lucent fragments, with each being a star
All part of an ever expanding plane of space
But when all life will cease, forever for you, my loving heart.

So I brush off from my shoulder, thoughts unto silence, and not one's awareness to see
Now my mind is at rest with absent affliction,
a gradual increase of our affection,
like new born stars from used debris,
then gifted emergence through timely accretion.
In the darkest shade of black, the inexplorable sea
You're my first choice distraction,
still have all my attention,
a constant, unchanging increase of adoration
Like the old explanation, our own steady state theory.
Will you let me be your lifetime attachment,
while the brightest stars diminish behind our blaze of attraction?

Comprehension of the natural, celestial body and beauty,
in all of your wonder, a real miracle before me
But for me to achieve that point of satisfaction,
it would require an in-depth and extensive explanation
Putting together the facts for all the eyes of the world to see,
You'd need your own special branch of astronomy
We're equal and unmatched our own balanced force of devotion,
another push and pull system in the third law of motion.

Perhaps an optimistic and hopeful first attempt, at expressing myself through poetry
But with this I can tell you, in a slightly different way,
that you're my best friend, my partner and you'll always be my family
Now seldom are those unfavoured thoughts,
their tendence to abscond from uncertainty
Because now you've made me feel like i'm destined to be,
forever a part of the constellation of Emily.

"Heavy Wasting"


                    How truly I despise the heavy, wasting
                    Lethargy that had entombed my soul in
                    Life's stagnant morass, the bleak and bilious
                    Sludge waters of depressive thought. Yet this
                    Common, painful, aspect of life devouring
                    Us, molding us, choking us, is but one
                    Of many stabs and ****** assailing us
                    Maiming us, killing us. The uncountable
                    Steps of all humanity have been amid
                    An indifferent universe, forming
                    And shaping with pleasures and ills. We are
                    Part of the whole, not its center, and the
                    Depths and heights we reach are our own. Unique
                    Individual, unfavoured, free, we
                    Are cast into life a seed, a potential
                    Of being, a glimmer in the eye of
                    What passes for god. We inspire the
                    Eternal infinite variety
                    Moment by moment, unending, and we
                    Become enmeshed in what we have perceived
                    How we have perceived it. Flowing, growing
                    We are grains of sand, beautiful, lovely,
                    Temporary, grains of sand on a billion
                    Worlds. Or, we may be tortured souls, wandering
                    Among countless vile beings defiling
                    Us at every turn. Often, much, much, much
                    More often than we know, the choice is ours.

It is not
time to go.
Much time was left
all so long ago;
bold favours, unfavoured by my
nature. Thus I
processed what I could, how
I could and, I could not,
of course,
many lesser of me
exist. This is
not enough, it is not
       enough. How does
one write? To inhale? Most
not likely. Rushing through this
won't help much. Undiscernable
        rhythm. Many dances
were velvet. This leads not to knowing
much. Much is all a softness.

Watch me, world, I might
breathe  on you  so gently.
             Much. Much is all softness.