It’s beginning to look like I’ve given up writing poetry but, hey, what are lyrics but poetry set to music?

That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it as I’m thoroughly enjoying this foray into writing and singing the lyrics to accompany Johnny’s fabulous music.

He and his lovely wife, Lisa, both put an incredible amount of work into compiling the video.

Where you go I’ll never know,

it’s a dream,

cast alone as a stone

into a stream.

I am void when you’re gone,

just a shell of myself,

you leave me there,

I don’t know where,

when or if I’ll be reborn,

recover soon, without you, my other self.


Why you leave I can’t conceive,

where you go I’ll never know,

into night you have flown

while I lie here all alone,

tie me to you,

take me on the voyage,

where you fly

as I lay here to die,

without you.


Where you go I’ll never know,

it’s a dream,

left alone while you roam

in the realms of a world

that is your home

from waking days,

each night I pray

you will return to me,

I’ll never see what you’ve seen

as I lie here lost to dreams,

beyond the night you have flown

as I die a death alone,

tie me to you,

take me on your voyage,

into night, where you fly,

do not leave me here to die

bring life back to my dreams,

take me with you when you go,

where you fly,

I cannot bear to die alone

on my own, just a shell of myself.

You leave me bare,

I don’t know where, when or if

I’ll be reborn, recover soon,

my death to self.



The Horse’s Mouth

Your voice tells me

What I need to know

One among the many

Giving truths


Does not cut it

For me any more

I’d rather hear it

From the horse’s mouth.

I wanted to reblog this post here but I don’t know where the reblog buttons have been hidden on a number of sites now. WP glitch or me being thick?

Ashiakira writes beautiful haiku but today he steps out from that short form to write with the same truth and feeling on a situation of national and global importance.

I trust a man who has known the loss of war and desires peace. He speaks for his people even while his government rewrites their constitution. It is in posts such as this that I fully appreciate the real power and importance of blogging. Who else will tell us what we need to know with such honesty but a fellow human being living within the constraints of political machinations? We all know that place; the one where governments decide, press portrays its version but we don’t feel as they do. Please read these words from a beautiful soul.

‘Mankind Limited’


This book  ⇑⇑⇑ should be a movie. Somewhere in Hollywood right now there are actors waiting for their agents to deliver this story in script format to them. The makings of all action-packed adventure films is here. I can see the film in my mind’s eye.

But this one is different.

It’s not fast-paced for the thrill of it alone. It needs to be to get the message across. Mankind could be on the threshold of just such a future. Time is racing.

This one could be us.

Maybe a few years down the line yet, maybe already almost there in some similar format. Change a few details. Replace one group for another. Look behind the motives in politics and corporations. Stretch the reality just a little. Ask ourselves questions looking through the light of a different lens.

It feels like us, it acts like us, it may very well come to be.

It could be The Secret we all hold and may one day need.

The future may be closer than we think.

It only takes a small leap of imagination to take us from where we are now to Mankind Limited.

Scott Bailey is a writer I follow here on WordPress.

I downloaded his book a few weeks ago after reading an excerpt from it on his blog. It wasn’t until this week that I finally had the chance to read the book.  I like a good action-packed adventure as much as the next one but I liked, even more, what Scott communicated in the story.

I believe there is more to follow and I’ll be waiting. If we have time and I’m still aware…


Scott’s book is available through Amazon.

His blog can be found here.


F This (may cause offense to delicate sensibilities or anyone younger than em, 12 maybe?)

Can’t we all be f#*°®¥°*¢ friends

As birds that f#*°¢ together

F*°«~*’s such a better choice

If we all had f¢¥* f#*°®¥°#


I used to couldn’t swear, it’s true,

Erupted just instead,

Blessed myself and wondered why

Couldn’t even curse in head,

Then thought a bit about some words

And joy of all behold,

Realised perception’s worth,

I practised, grew quite bold.

Didn’t say them when they caused

Any deep offense,

Didn’t say them to my dad,

You’re joking, not that dense.

But found that words like feck and fuck

And shit and sod and damn

Kept volcanic in its place,

Accursed sort of dam.

Use them sometimes as a laugh,

Some jokes just need that jest,

Other times I use them, well,

Hubby knows those best.

Found a fuck to give right here,

Well many, just be warned,

Fucks aplenty, no asterisks,

But, with humour, lessons learned.

Haven’t counted but I know

There are fucks galore

But funny fucks and useful fucks,

I’m keeping some in store.

Only one that I can’t see

Is one I wrote at first ^^^^

Flying fucks from feathered friends

With not a single curse.

Symbols might suggest there’s more

Than merely letters missed

We fill the blanks in anyway

So no censorship for this.


By Her Side

Carry forth on angel wings the needs I bring before you,

By light, your dynasty, to her provide,

Make feather-light her troubles and her sorrows,

I need you now to be close by her side.

In absence of my presence be her friend there,

Envelop her in love and bring her ease,

Cushion soft her blows, I need this from you,

Expectant faith I have so hear my pleas.

Shelter her from more of life’s hard taskings,

Enough is more than anyone can bear,

Be near her now and comfort, hug her closely,

Hold her gaze and let her see me there.

Light upon her, give her joy, I’m asking,

Tenderness where lack has been long gone,

Carry forth on angel wings the needs I bring before you,

Be her strength for me till she’s made strong.

Big Bit Beautiful

Recent hist’ry, further back,

Nothing born of chance,

Entwine threads and treasures found,

Conjoined in life’s dance.

Ghosts of words, mem’ries bound,

Ugly turns to dust,

Ethereal, spiritual, one love

In which we trust.

Haunted notes from music box,

Motes that swirl from lid

Raised reveal of velveteen,

Box’d coffin where we hid.

Hand to cover, prised, released,

Hinges rusty creak,

Ballerina, beautiful,

Pirouettes, she speaks,

Seeks the treasure,

Finds and shares,

Gifted girl, soul-gowned,

Energy with him reclaimed,

Twin-tuned from Underground.


Random click on open mail,

A moment glimpsed in time,

Comment came from words read there,

Here developed as I find.

Grave reminders, must we all

To humility subserve,

But, building up and strengthening,

Big bits of beautiful, all deserve

A second song from music box,

Reminders when we fall,

Composition, love created,

Biggest beautiful of all.


Spill The Beans, ya bugger! Whoever you are.

I have a little problem,

I really got to share,

No, it’s not my weight or work,

I’m good on those and mair.

It’s something else entirely,

You’ll get it once you read,

It’s coping with the volume

Of posts within my feed.

It’s hectic, man, I’m telling you,

I like so many posts,

I comment and I scroll some more,

And read past words, of course,

Like sooking up the flavour

Of a drink that I’ve just found

But time’s a hellish bugger

And it’s hard to get around

To all the mail that drops on floor,

Through virtual letterbox,

I’m trying, gawd, I’m trying,

But I’m telling you, it sucks!

You write too much (yeah, I do too!)

So what’s the answer, please,

Someone must have worked this out,

So go on, spill it, tease

Me with the findings and

I’ll forever be your friend,

How do you cope with volume

Of the mail that never ends?

Is there an app that I can use

That gathers in one place,

The folk I love, can’t do without,

Though never seen their face?

Someone must have sorted this,

All this talent here,

Some creative bugger

More practical than I, I fear.

I know that you are out there!

One of you must’ve found!

Tell me, quick, or I’m deleting!

Or maybe going to ground,

Hiding out till WP apps

Support my needs in ways,

I can answer mail and browse

But still get on with days.

Who are you and where are you?

The answer to my prayer!

Stop hiding out and tell me

How to cope with flair.

If you’ve found the secret

And you want to patent it,

I’ll back you to the hilt, I will,

Just share a teeny bit.

I’m done today, the mail’s still there,

Though through it I have gone,

Maybe if I stopped with talk so much,

It’d be sorted and well done.

Email me or make a post

Or comment down below,

For feck sake, please just share it!

And now I have to go.

I’ve done sod all else today!

Words of Another

I wonder, sometimes,

if the words of another

reveal me to me

better than mine,

If, in sharing

their thoughts on the page,

cosmic held hands

raise ridiculous to sublime.

It’s not that I think

that I cannot convey

most visions

that whirl in my mind

But I wonder

if inhaling

words from another,

some truths are easier to find.

Parking Posteriors, Pimping Posts, Pummelling Penmanship

I’ve been prevaricating and procrastinating like a politician on Question Time for these first few days of January. Promises to myself made at the end of Nanowrimo being pushed back till proper work week resumes. I know. Excuses.

But I’ve got loads of them.

The house has been full one way and another, cooking up a storm, visiting, blah, blah, Christmas, Ne’erday. Ask, I’ll give you a list.

But school starts back tomorrow and I hate breaking a promise, even one made to myself. Apart from which, I’d just give myself a hard time. And I don’t like doing that either.

So, postponements, procrastinations and other perambulations on the putting off front are now being pushed to the back of the cupboard along with the rest of my chocolate stash and tomorrow begins the edit. Shitting myself somewhat that I might look at the fifty-two thousand words I wrote during November and think, ‘What a load of auld bollocks that is!’

But I won’t know till I look again and I haven’t even peeped at it since finishing the count.

All this to say, I’m gonna be a good girl, park my posterior on the seat, pour a cuppa and peruse the pages (fond of P today!)

I’d like to extend an invitation, to any and all interested parties, to be my guest on this here blog that will otherwise, undoubtedly, suffer neglect in my self-enforced peregrinations (feckin’ P, let me be!) into pimping, pummeling and promoting the publishable word. (I give in. It’s a P day, obviously).

I have, on file, several guest posts pending

You might want to blog one of your previous posts (you know the ones that nobody goes back to, from the early days. In my case, I wouldn’t really want to, but you might).

Anyhow, this evening is the last of the totally chilled ones (did finally get there over Christmas and New Year. Lock the doors and pretend you’re not in works so well. Kidding! nearly…)

So, if you have half a mind to guest – in fact, particularly if you have half a mind – you’ll fit very well here. Kidding then too. Really!

I’ve kept access to all my previous guests – you know who you are. But, for those who don’t, see the side bar. Down there, over a bit, to the right. Aye, there. A grand job they did of keeping this little portion of WordPress going. My eternal gratitude to them.

Go on, have a look in your files, past posts, classics that no bugger, or very few, got to view and have at it. If you don’t, I will feel compelled to come in here daily and torment the life out of you with prehistoric posts of mine that deserve to be relegated to the cupboard with my chocolate. Shutit! I was learning. I still am. This doesn’t sound like any invitation I’ve read before.

Now, in the interests of honesty, highly valued by me, though – in the interests of honesty – not always managed, I’ll probably be in and out, ready to press publish at any given time. It’s a problem. I blame my addictive personality. With this in mind, I thought I’d keep the weekends free for me. I like free weekends. They’re sort of full of promise but can be used to do sod all if the humph comes upon one. Comes upon one here fairly regularly but not as often as one’d like. (Gawd, how does she manage to talk like that? Ma’am. Curtsey, grovel, tugging me forelock, not being in the least facetious. Much.)

Soooo, the first and only hauf of the evening has just been poured for me by my nearest and dearest – I like a well-trained man! No kidding! Well, maybe a bit because, well, never mind because…

Should you care to pimp past posts (or new ones. I’m easy. Watchit!) while I park my posterior and pummel past penmanship, you are cordially invited to do so.

Amen. 🙂

Pew. Phew! Forgot where I was there. 😉


Words in Waiting

All the words are there

Sitting alphabetically, waiting.

Still waiting.


Ho hum, ho hum, ho hum.


Feeling Useless,


Knowing their Importance in the Big Book

And Scheme of Things.

Wisdom Nods to Sense,

Kindness to Reason,

Compassion Shakes its Head at Heart,

Respect Sits Patiently,

Too Patiently,

While Nonsense, Fear and Spin

Twist and Turn,


Abandoning Courtesy,

Justice and Fairness.

Dictionary Lost, Ripped up,

Sold to the Highest Bidder.



Publish or Be Damned.


Born of a conversation in comments this morning with Richard.