When I was a kid, barely nine,
I had a dream for, mum, sis and me.
To kill my Dad, and survive doing it!
Was that really such a crime?

We had this ugly glass ashtray,
Like a thick set Star of David,
a thing of substance with sharp points.
I used sit on my bed thinking, and pray.

I had a carefully considered plan.
He made me feel so angry and afraid.
I would have to hit him very hard,
because I thought him like superman.

He would be sitting on the stairs,
Laughing, talking, and cursing on the phone.
I would descend the star in both hands.
Raise it high and bury it in his wavy hairs.

I crash it down deep in his skull.
He falls forward and blood oozes out,
onto the purple nylon carpet. Time
Slows, my heart pounds, there is a lull.

He lies dead, gone at last; but not!
My fear, my dread… the horror is,
that he is not, he cannot, will not die,
And so he rises and I have had my lot.

So as ever I squeeze past, avoid his eyes.
And fear he knows what’s in my mind.
The crystal is put back in place…again
I was only nine, and a little more of me dies.

“I have sticky buns and crisps” (she says excitedly),
“because they were giving away free stuff
….at Victoria Station and you know how I like free stuff.”
“Well I love free stuff!”… (A little crest fallen)….a long
pause and she listens. “Oh…and I remembered
It was our 18 month anniversary. Well I did… but it’s
not important”…another long silence, being talked too.
“Yeah, well ok; I am on the train you can phone, if
you like” (a cheerless sigh).
Nothing in life is really ‘free’.

In my teens I guess, it was my mother’s,
as I got baptized, in the wrong church.
In my early twenties, probably my Gran,
as I married a city girl, who kicked with the other foot.
In my mid thirties- an all grown up- it was my wife,
as finally I just had to tell her I was gay.
In my forties it was my friend and colleague,
as sadly I had to have her sacked.
I’m no misogynist… just a man.
Who has had his heart broken too, by other men!

Day 28 Haiku (after reports that the Tories are determined to take on Syria)

Is it war again
Then go yourself, try it out
No? spend lives wisely

Day 29 Triad Three requisite attributes for a new friendship;

To receive there must also be giving
Honesty is a two way street
Share both life’s, nihility and vitality

Day 30 Haiku, (thanks to Maude)

The earth is my body
My head is in the stars
live high,sing out, be free, be you.

Day 31 haiku (after meeting a friend last seen 30 yrs ago at Uni)

Her skin looked, lived in
Mirror, mirror on the wall
time flies, time takes; sighs.

Day 32

Life begins @ 40
You’re only as old as you feel
Who cares,who knows,we!

Day 33 A Triad after looking through my baptismal bible from 9th Nov 1980 and notes therein.

Three reminders of gods word for a loving spiritual life

The righteous sings and rejoices
A humble spirit will obtain honour
Never be lacking in zeal and spiritual fervour

Day 34

4G and wi-fi
Superfast fibre broadband
don’t blame the messenger

Day 35 Haiku – books from the bible?

Habakkuk, Nahum
Zephaniah and Haggai
Who remembered them?

Day 36

A faded grass ring
A dry unsheafed head of corn
gifts from druid camp

Day 37

What is LOVE today
sex, lust, love, fucking,kissing
no shame, no guilt; bliss.

We stand here
Still…our
Hearts and minds
Body and soul, open
On this sweet sacred
Hill.
We are thankful for,
our feet on the earth,
For seeing the wide open sky,
hearing the
Gentle breeze,
For breathing in each of you.
Although,
In dreaming wisdom
And Furrows of darkness
We may be like a thin grey man
Half lost in gathering night; but
Within this sacred grove
Of souls,
May sweet sounds of our kind
Nature kind
Spirit kind
Ancestor kind;
Together bring love and wisdom
Health and illumination
Peace and awakening
Imbas, Awen and Nwyfre,
To the land, this circle
Of stone and souls,
And our place and space
in creation here on this hill
and the cosmos.
May this circle be that calm cool
pool where pebbles fall and peace
Ripples outwards into the world.
May our stillness and our dance here
Breath renewal across the land.
May this be a place of laughter and
A place for sageness, and a refuge of
Serenity in a troubled world.
A sacred sanctuary in time and space,
For all who come to sit, listen, breath, share.
Blessed be.

Horizontal, in the darkest spot.
A window on the celestial
Milky Way, framed in outline
By Wild rose, hawthorn and lilac.

There are familiar constellations,
In their place, and beyond a
Countless myriad flickering.
And then further barely perceptible
The misty spur of our galaxy, known
But not well, too far for us; for now?

Now too, unlike those days
Stargazing with unrequited lovers
There appear and meander,
Cris-crossing, hurtling,
Man’s own stars of steel.

This night alone in Perseid’s wake,
First one, like the silver surfer, streaks
Across the sky, dazzling the eye
So low and fast, long, then gone.

Others barely twinkle or flash like
A blinking star or a bubble bursting
Or like the under belly of flying
Gull caught briefly by the moonlight

Time passes and the cold gathers,
Eyes widen to take in more space
To catch the full dance across the night
To feel of the celestial melody one more time.

For me it was always blue
And deep, and darkening
Like an ink blot patch
That grows in intensity
As the centre is approached.
I know it is cold but,
That isn’t the thing that
Becomes apparent
Doesn’t be part of my imagining.
Just the colour and the depth
And the sense of mystery.
The image and where it might,
And does take me in my mind.
Like a lost memory, no a
Hiding place for
Memory,
For emotion,
For loss and love,
So many tears, too much
Sadness. My memories?
There is illuminous joy there too
But that is buried deep,
Waiting, for now, in the gloom
In the cold depths of
Watery time, in a pocket of
light no one yet quite
Deserves or has discovered.
Can the light pierce,
The depths where I hide,
And what is this light
The source and the meaning
The lustre and glow, the silver of it too.
Is it possible for me
To rise and yet not forget
To not lose that essential learning,
All the while finding a different way
A new life, but yet also an old life.
A vitality that sustains
Even the deepest darkest
Impenetrable parts,
Of me and the ocean,
for we are one. I may only be
a small pitiful drop
yet that is that way of it,
we, yes there is a we and
loneliness or solitude
can be a shared space
a mutual experience remembered
and a collective thought
held and honoured;
wisdom that waits until
we are ready;
until we surrender and
accept that possibility
that need within and between.
Maybe it’s not just about
Seeing, but listening
A song, of the sea, of the
Deepest blue past
Of the ocean, like a leviathan rising
Calling out, waiting recognition.
The great whale is part of the ocean
And is also part of me
As I am him, we breathe the same air
We are formed from the same waters
We see, actually see,
And listen and sing
And dance and love.
My drop of consequence the same
As the whales, the seals, the urchins
The krill,the worlds own briny
Expanse, its shimmering
Lapping rolling self, never still
or forgetful; holding of us,
until we surrender and
accept that possibility,
that need within and between.

…. I AM
Woefully inappropriate, at times
yet awash with natural perspicacity.
Maddening, but mostly fun,
charming, often rude!
conversational, and naturally shy,
irksome, mostly amiable
focused, bewildered,
intelligent (sometimes),
clueless (the rest of)
loves eggs benedict royal
and 2nd hand book stores
-feel free to pry!

It started with a kiss.

A soft, sleepy, gentle good night kiss,

a lingering, lurking…. laden, less is more kiss.

And ended in bliss.

Hot, breathless, pounding bliss,

a satiated, surfeit of scented good night bliss.

Tantric Embrace

Face to face;
And Balls, cock
Torso, chest,
Shoulders, all … joined.

Breathing enveloped,
Legs entangled &
Arms holding, firmly,
Necks nestle in.

Their body’s mutual
Warmth exchanged,
Expansion shared,
Mind and soul joined.

In that sacred silence
A love grows, and lips
are joined, eyes met,
Smiles and joy released.