Me: Don’t I deserve better?….
After all I’ve suffered, why is my success still deterred?
Even with the trials and throes,
My life is still, sorrows prose…

Jesus: Dear, dear Simon… dear lad…You have not learned enough…
Your sight is still bleak…. I show You a sea,
And You only see a Trough…..
Son, I know the road is rough,
but You see, Simon, I built You tough
…So then, dear Simon, when You Hear my voice in hard times, reassuring,
Do not rebuff….

Me: How can I not?…
The trials I understand, but You never Said that they’ll spring out without Cause?….
And with such force?!!! … .
The future is so far away, I can only Dream about how bright it’ll be….
But You sound so sure….
Pain is a must, but why is mine always so strong?…..
You said I’ll make it,
So what is all the circus of throes for?

Jesus: Simon, how can you not see,
I made you perfect, to be all you can dream,
If only you’ll just believe,
You’ll move every mountain your eyes can see…
Breakdown every wall and trample every gate with your feet…

Me: We’ve all made mistakes,
And our whim is to blame…
But why should my life be a chronicle Of disdain
Pain after pain…day after day,
Season after dreadful season,
After the scorching sun,
Comes the flooding rain,
Woes in continual,
Sorrow and futile efforts in everlasting connubial…

Jesus: Look past the stumbling stones,
And gaze on the horizon of hope,
The still land lies fallow, until tended by hands before the sown seeds grow,
Trust, Simon, is all you need to show,
Israel thought all was lost…moments before Manna came like snow,
Doubt only begets grief…
In this fertile heart of yours, do not let it grow…
The land is a desert?
Even Israel turned to crafts of gold just before I made fountains out of stones…
Patience is a virtue, seek it and you find fulfillment’s abode…
The torrents of rain, whose goal is to cleanse,
I send with Love, and tidings of fairer times ahead…
The fiercer the fire, the finer the steel,
There’s always a lesson for every pain you feel…
With the battles you fight, I will make you bold,
I wrote your story, and it’s a triumph over woes,
I await you, Simon, when you’ve fought the good fight….
Do come home…..



Sober, bewildered, docile  swain…

A fair maiden lov’d, but lov’d in vain…

Warmth of sea breeze, cooled by sycamore’s shades…

Mind turned to pressing thoughts, and all time seems to halt…


Will you die unpitied, and unheard?

For all thy fair affection, is this unkind callous gesture your reward?!!…


Now even nature stirs in response to your gloom…

The sun disappears, with all its specter of radiant light…

The clouds follow suit,

               The bright skies dissolve into a shady hue…

The rustling leaves with his thoughts conspire,

They unsettled by wind, and he with fierce desire

But how much more is it to sustain,

Such affection, certain to end in disdain?


Trust not your heart to that enchanting face;

Beauty’s a charm; but soon, the charm will pass…


True, dear Stella,

For some, life is like a wine cellar,

Bringing only forebodings of fanfair, so it seems,

For them, life will only get better,

But be vigilant, ma’ Cherie,

              Nothing Lasts forever….


Add up your woes and

Stretch out open arms,

Fear not , fair one, the world can do no more harm,

Good tidings have arrived,

        Your blessings in essence confirmed,

And even if hell confers,

None of their antics will ruffle, or compel,

Thee to enigma and fear,

Well, well, Stella dear, it appears heaven doth care…



On this threshold where family wrought woes, and

You are wounded by a friendly hand,

Move on from this sinking sand,

Look afar to the horizons, and hunger for the new lands,

The world is a large vase,

Like the potter,

                    Erase the unmoulded past,

You’re in control, make your good times forever last,

Cause pain to be a phantom of the past….



Fair one, Angel of Bhermount,

Be blind no more… For once see your own worth…

Let them alter your course,

No cause for alarm, ma’ Cherie,

When you’re home, you can never be lost,

You’ll outshine them all,

Its fate Dona, and no one can alter its course…



Your smile incites nostalgia of Eden’s waterfalls,

The cadence of your voice, an angels lullaby,

Folklore says, there was a feast in the heavens, when your form was conceived,

How then ma’ Cherie can you assume less of thyself?


How can you embrace caves, when you’re a maiden of manors?

Why should you fall, whilst your wings docily wrap around you?


How can you think less, of what heaven made fair?

Why do you not see the perfection with golden hair?


Why ma’ Cherie, let them have their brawn,

Seek it not, lest beauty goes before a fall,

This is your banquet Dona, a tribute to you,

Sound the trumpets, address the invites,

This is your tale,

                So we’ll let  the fairies deck the halls…. 


A sentence you render
on yourself will not stand.

It’s not your responsibility,
or even your privilege

to punish yourself for the
crimes you’ve committed.

I’m not impressed and
neither will the jury be,
by your pre-emptive

Here stands a man.
Diminutive. Small.
Unsure and heavy,
weighted down by
imagined retribution.

But you don’t understand.
You’ve always loomed
large in my life.

The real trial won’t begin until
you have forgiven yourself.

We all come to judgement in the end.
Will you be strong enough to bear it?

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this is exactly
what i should be doing

splayed out on the grass soaking in the green
my toxic week leaks into mother earth
let the bitters dissolve
cajole with the underworld
and relieve the disturbances up here

mother earth sucks me hard against her bumpy surface
into her cosmic tendrils
like a sponge in a centrifuge
compost my sickness, Great Mother Gaia

pull this turmoil out of my cells and into your sacred vastness
hold me tight i surrender
i can feel your thirsty roots
wrap their lovely green arms around me

i am soaking up your green and your brown
your crystalline vibration
your wondrous gaia-ness

i surrender to you, Great Mother
my eyes drink in the green against blue
my skin against your skin

this is exactly
what i should be doing

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