Muhammad Ali:

"I know where I'm going and I know the truth, and I don't have to be what you want me to be. I'm free to be what I want -

Muhammad Ali

There are many, many lights in this world, gentle but fierce fires that find troubled souls to feed and shelter, see them through the ink black tides that would otherwise drown a desperate heart. Not always noticed (at least not at first) dancing specks of energy to whip up lights of comfort that shred the terrible silence when man struggles free of hope and believes in god abandoned.

There are occasions, rare times but non less true, when one light touches all who hear and see it. In this moment courage, wisdom reaches kings and beggars both. A glimpse of love unbridled.

Aye, seldom is a light for all, that has all and fortunate are we who share it. That silent mother light, a goodly shard for dark corners. Not a cure for ills or sandstorm prophet to make the dead walk. No steel messiah to drown the demons.
None of this but still something more. A leather sun to devour a world of hate and forge new hope for a million fellow souls. The grand inspiration, greater love for life and lives.

Fortunate are we who lived to see such naked love.

Diolch, thank you. Rest in Peace beautiful man x

Sympathy For The Devil

Tamping mun!

After reading a few myths and legend stories recently, I have come around to wondering whether or not we may have got it wrong about the devil. Don't believe me? Check out the story behind the Devil's Bridge in Ceredigion for example. Local legend has it that 'ol Forked Tail built the bridge since the task was too difficult for mere mortals. So a deal was struck for the devil to knock up a bridge on the proviso that he would receive the soul of the first person who crossed it. Poor chap. (My local Chamber of Trade would never have allowed THAT deal *smiles*)
But alas the devil never did get his soul because he was tricked by an old lady. Seems she threw some crusty bread onto the newly built bridge, which caused her dog to go after it (who doesn't like crusty bread?) thus making it the first life to cross the 'Devil's Bridge'. What happened then is unknown but I should imagine the fallen angel looked a tad cross and muttering, "curses! Foiled again!" To himself as he walked away soulless.
And there are a lot of other similar tales of Satan, the supposed 'great deceiver' being hoodwinked by some wily mortal (usually an old crone or beggar.) Could it be that the Horned One is not as shrewd as he is made out to be? His wickedness is not in question but be that as it may, Mr Jakes wouldn't fear him in a game or six (six six) of poker.

A Sig To Me from Phil

from a rugby legend

I have met many famous faces on my often boozy travels from rock stars to movie actors but never once have felt inclined to ask for an autograph. I don't do that (mainly because I feel they should be wanting my signature) and neither do I stand with my mouth wide open like a star struck prune. People are people regardless, it matters not to me if you happen to be in the public eye. Basically I couldn't care f**king less. But I do happen to have a signature that I cherish.
It was back in 1999 when I was at death's door (literally) after a drop too much booze and I found myself in Prince Phillip hospital in Llanelli. One day rugby legend Phil Bennett was visiting a member of his family, and seeing as he also knows my family he kindly came over to my bed and wrote those nice words on my poetry notebook in an attempt to cheer me up. (My poetry notepad goes everywhere, even to my deathbed).
Phil played in the great Wales rugby team of the 1970s, and is a genuinely lovely guy, and if you ever read this Phil then yes you did indeed cheer me up at what was a very grim time for me. Diolch yn fawr!