Breath of Ending

 In life,

in keeping,

I was deceased.

And now,

in mossy cradle

as still as ice,

tamed at last,

I live.

Dying. Dead.

In death i live,

finally.

@StevenFrancispoems 

Today, Of Tomorrow

Alcohol is my default. Drunkeness a refuge for the insecurities and bitterness that dwell in these bones, indeed my very soul. Alcoholics (we rabid, wild flowers), regard intoxication as medicine who crave it as instinctively as breathing. To be born an addict, as there is no choice in this matter, is to be born with a heavy, persistant darkness that one learns quickly can be made bearable through liberal use of alcohol or pills (or both). So fast is this knowledge one is tempted to be overly dramatic with descriptions of angels and divine solutions but truth is more mundane, fact is that self preservation is as much part of the human fabric as any fraility and the minute we boozers get a taste of our 'medicine', addiction sets in. A wretched journey of despair, pain, lies, loathing and filth. A journey not everyone survives. In fact, I would wager more die from addiction than are accounted for because by its nature it is a disease that instills secrecy.

Today, Of Tomorrow 

 All of the horrors are given and known, have been lived through time and time again, yet the temptation of another drink remains. Not small and insignificent, harmless in the background but lurking on every thread of thought, constant in its danger to sobriety. A relentless bloodlust that should I ever lessen my grip on sobriety will ravish my soul with unspeakable terrors, as it has many times before. Sobriety isn't a natural state for me, in years distant I have used my powers of manipulation and deceit to avoid it at any cost. Today I am five years clean but its not game over. It is never game over. There is too high consequence in wanting a drink today. There is never a today. Today in drink becomes tomorrow in drink, and tomorrow after that, on and on it slides into oblivion. Like thousands of other alcoholics, the trickster becomes the tricked. The grain mistress has no equal when it comes to seductive poisons.

 Ode to Zero

 Alas I must refrain from pretty words for fear of getting distracted and this would be fatal with this disease. To put it bluntly: there are those of us where tomorrow must cease to exist. There can be no healing finish line in this race. The minute I allow to trust in tomorrow, is when things get dark. Get grim and bloody. Tomorrow is a new slate, a reset and if I believe in those, I am in danger today. Too many times I have indulged today, believing tomorrow was a new day that wouldn't bring the craving and therefore I would be safe. Alcoholism doesn't do safe. It wants you to trust. It wants to be an old friend. It wants you to put faith in it. And we all fall down.

Like Bones In A Storm

Readers familiar to trese blogs and thoughts will know by now that I am a recovering alcoholic. I spent many years under the cruel whip of addiction, and many years getting sober only to fall again and again under its spell. Its a recurring theme im afraid, as many fellow alcoholics and addicts will agree. In the life, nothing could be rarer than an alcoholic who 'gets it' the first time out. Nobody drinks, quits and suddenly become sober forever more. The moment of clarity does not drop like switching a light on and off (if only were it the case). Five years. This will be my fifth year clean from booze but I can never again believe for one second that its safe to crack open a bottle because if I did these years of sobriety would be for naught. I even hesitate to type this post for fear of stirring a demon to tempt fate and lure me back. The disease is cunning and patient, it can take refuge within any situation, ready to kill sobriety with a crushing blow. Love, pain, worry,loss; these and a hundred more can swiftly end the sober souls reign. I have been there, done it and regretfully wear the scars. We are never truly sober, even as we shy from wine. Strange as it may sound to non addicts, it really is possible to be a drunk without a drink. "Drinking thinking" we called it in rehab. Alcoholism is like a cyst soldered to the soul. A grim shadow. A beast continually searching for a chance to escape and maim. Ten years sober? One kiss from whiskey will cure that. Free from the cruel sting of alcohol withdrawal? Take a drink of ginger grain and the anguish can return like bones in a storm. Today God willing, I am sober but always guarded because like life itself, it can end in a second.

The Cauldron of Vengeance and Deathmaker

In memory of Larry Fitzgerald, Texas Dept of Criminal Justice spokesman


First, I 'think' I am still a supporter of capital punishment. I have spent years on death penalty forums arguing in favour of it, rolled out many blog posts and even created a website that gathers records of executions that happened here in Wales hundreds of years ago. I'm a tad on the ghoulish side, I openly admit this but allow me to get back to the 'think' part of my opening.
Nobody on earth can be 100% either way regarding killing in pursuit of justice. I have met many (via forums) who claim to be fully pro death or anti and yet often it only takes a minor detail to push someone the other way. Might be the inmate on death row has murdered a child, a crime so heinous to make even the more liberal of folk wave a noose in anger. Perhaps a wretched soul has had their innocence come to light after their appointment with the deathmaker (famous, historic cases shows us this has been so), and is a potent force in stopping the fry circus get more supporters into its camp.
Pro and anti are as common and varied as flower petals, and much like petals, it can take only the gentlest of wind to change direction. I myself am in constant struggle to find where justice sits with me, and to wear the shrouded hood of death with at least a pinch of grace and honesty, one must answer the question: are we a civilised race?

And the depressing truth of it all is, that I do not think we are. Not by a long shot. Heck by looking at humanity through ragged, bloody history we are able to see slivers of the soul in all naked savagery. Stripped down, laid bare, the barbed folds of life complete. Twisted mechanics o in all its suicidal, craven glory. We are not purehearts, or saints by nature.
Certainly we like to think ourselves as kind, generous, loving, open minded race but life will cure one from that thinking all too soon. giving way to uncomfortable fact. Humans are a selfish, cruel, greedy bunch. Self obsessed to the point of indifference toward others. And this isn't entirely wicked, indeed its vital for self preservation because a honest to God, pure pacifist wouldn't be long for the world (especially this world) if they were uncompromising in his or her pacifism. So a little cold is good for the soul, and I wish folk would recognise it.

The March of the Purehearts


Listen, im not saying humans are damned to hell and locked into a terrible future. Corruption and bad intentions do not dominate every waking heart and neither do I believe this planet lost to hope. If we were swamped by a ocean of never ending evil, the world would have eaten itself long ago. There is a future, there is change for the better but there are more thorns than saints (afterall saints need courage and that seems to be in short supply these days), and the world is never going to turn into some kind of utopia where sh!t tastes like sugar and nobody hunts unicorns.

Cold World Shadow

*These topics could almost write themselves these days but certain topics require more than Twitter

Boxing. Whenever a fighter is seriously injured, the ban hammers emerge wielded by the paper party mob (who to be fair have good intentions and there is nothing wrong with that of course). Boxing is a dangerous sport and nobody wants to see young men and women damaged. But a ban? Come now my friends, if we are going to stop something that might lead to harm, then we might as well get started on a pretty long list of eligible sport/hobbies.
Formula 1, motor sport, rugby, rock climbing, horse racing, even football (wouldn't want the precious dears breaking a fingernail now would we). Allow me a sip of tea on this cold Easter monday, oils the cogs. I admit, I am fairly surprised boxing has lasted as long as it has in this soulless, new world of cotton hearts and yoghurt knitters. This is an era of safety first and damn the consequences, to hell with the future James Hunts and Jack Dempseys. Thou shall not follow a path that might lead to a stubbed toe or split lips.
Are ye with me here? This attitude is infinitely the more dangerous. People aren't daft (mostly), we know the risks and simply chucking a few bans around really won't help, all that does is drive the sport underground to the badlands where the few rules that are in place are not enforced, a place where danger is multiplied tenfold. Im sure the staunchest yoghurt knitter wants this?

*****

Ban. Ban this, ban that. It must be hard living a life with hazard lights on. I don't know how they do it, really I don't. But then I have no iron morals to answer to. Its why the anti death, guns, hunting rabble can't get a bead on me online. All the names are true my friends, even the bad ones (hell especially the bad ones). You can't figh a honest reflection. Now obviously I do have morals and right and wrongs but im a poet before all else and in an effort to power up words its essential to play fast and loose with words.

Llawer o Cariad, a pasg hapus/lots of love and happy Easter x

As Dead As Angels

I Am No Saint But....

Before I get to the rainbow of the rain, this is one post where the header bounced around my head like a kitten on amphetamine. Usually I can take the 'pulse' of a situation and the headline will follow like a vampire's thrall, but here I landed a few that I liked. They can be so important and yet so throwaway and its one occasion I didn't want anything not made perfectly clear. So in the spirit of on the hoof blogging, I decided on two leave it stand.

I always admit that I am no angel. Not because I want to show that im prepared to stick the first nail into my crucifixion but because I like how the more I say it, the more I believe (or hope) it will sink in for those readers who might be tempted into thinking im preachy and pure hearted and thus deserving of praise. No. I can be as cruel as fish, am largely solitary and have no need of anything like that. Here's it may get hazy - I am no consciously thinking what I believe so have no desire for applause. I just am, me. I think good things, I think bad. That is indeed that. Bullet stop.
While I admit my views can be more barbed wire than cotton, one thing im thankful for is that that I treat everyone as equal (though sometimes they get a head start as im not perfect). Black, white, blue, fat, thin, killer, saint, rich, poor, wise. Bring them all on, petty 'faces' all to which I pay no heed, they don't matter. But the rest? Ah now the rest is up to you. Or even YOU.
I like it best this way, my way. A lifetime of razors and sunshine, all stacked up to shape the spirit of my machine.
Now like I say, im no saint but the rest of the world seems to think it is (which is probably why ive walked this earth largely solitary watching events from afar like a sniper watching war through a lens and caring little so the puzzle flees from me so far).
Even now while large parts of the real world are dying from hunger or being shot to bits from the words of holy books, the lucky side of the world (first world problems and all that) is at war with itself over their circle jerk Oscar award tosh (and again, first world problems huh?)
And jerking is right, they are not talking at all, merely w**king. Pulling themselves off over how clever and wise they all love to be. (Kept a straight face there, almost).

Woe is a world fuelled by such petty bullsh!t nonsense. One of the things a new friend notices about devil old me, is my rich diversity of friends and ex lovers. Onward they march from all corners of the map of life and morality. Like Buddah himself (but much less cool) I care not for sights and sounds. Like I keep saying, its what comes after that matters to me. And its what sane men throughout the ages have believed and why I feel dull here typing it out. The majority ought to get this by now but its apparent they don't still.

If you really must have awards for things, judge the work by the workers and if say the blue workers haven't done a decent shift one time, vote for another who has. Okay this years Oscars might be heavy on the white side but I would hope (for all my keen wisdom im still severely naïve) that its because they did the best movies this year? Could be that next year it swings opposite and those actors work will be recognised.
Please tell me this is how it works?

Quit all this petty bull crap. Like my 'friend' from GTA IV said once

You can't shake no hands when ye fist be clenched

― Little Jacob

Harmony Devoured

So there it goes, yuletide's furry backside disappearing over the horizon taking the sickly baubels and sugar highs with it. Skin the reindeer, papa wants roast! In plain speak? Im happy Christmas has buggered off, its like coming up for air after a week lurking in the depths of Swiss Valley reservoir. Don't get me wrong, its great if you have children, creating special memories you had as a child (some children are not that lucky of course) but for me? Im happy its gone. And it used to arrive with such a potent buzz that no drug could ever hope to match. When out delivering cards with my late mother, I swore I could hear bells ringing from the star freckled night sky, there was a mystic energy that only children posses but alas it has left this rust bucket I call a soul, magic at zero and doubt it will ever return.
Arrives with age some would say but I'd wager that even the hardest Ebenezer Scroodge had at least heard a Christmas carol or watched a television "classic" during the festivities.
Want to know something? I didn't. Dim byd. Nothing. Not even a sniff of a mince pie. To my mind (and this is important because it was only in my company, with loved ones it was different) Christmas day might well have been a rainy weekend down the /Mumbles. Ah dear Mumbles! Escaping the silly season might seem impossible to most but I swear its doable. I just did it and to be fair, I wish a pill existed to get the spirit and excitement back but take enough happy tablets and you'll know that even chemical rainbows have limits.
So again it goes with a nary a farewell and no alchemy can ever dress bones. Its been a blast throughout those milky years, almost was the perfect drug, a never ending agent of harmony but one day all magic dies and for me (just me I hope), I can be happy with that. And I am perfectly happy.


*Please forgive the often heavy spirit this post was written in. I assure you gentle reader that everything is fine in the funhouse. Dark lines always make for better scenes and in family company the scene was different.

Diamonds in Earthly Bones: Organ Donation

Today Wales becomes the first country in Britain to introduce a different approach to organ donation with a presumed consent ‘opt-out’ system. And if I wasn't already a supporter of it, then hearing people in desperate need of a transplant call in to radio stations to applaud our "brave new" approach would certainly have swayed me. If I could wrap my arms around my beloved Cymru to give it a big Cwtch (hug) I would do so.
How could I not be proud? That last earthly act of unrivalled genorosity is a perfect good; a love that truly has no end. To wear my poetry clothes, a Spirit of the heart eternal. Not everyone believes in angels (and this is why I wince a bit on mentioning them) but surely in this selfless act of love supreme, this is where such beings would walk?
How incredible! To welcome new life as yours makes an exit, to live not only in the hearts of loved ones but in strangers too! I suspect I could type a million words but they could never hope to do it justice. Saints and heroes have no need for them, the deed is enough.
.
Kindness in words creates confidence.
Kindness in thinking creates profoundness.
Kindness in giving creates love.

Lao-Tzu Poet and Philosopher of ancient China.

Wales Win World Cup Shocker!

I had all these fancy titles ringing around my head but in the end I chose a cheap headline grabber. Please forgive me and read on, you know I love thee really.
Sport doesn't have the same magic for me as it seems to for everyone else. Even in 2012 when everyone had Olympic mania and the Queen impressed the planet by arriving at the Olympic stadium via parachute with James Bond, sport barely registered in my dusty old mind. Winning trophies? The pulse of a cheering crowd as victory calls? I don't 'get it', and never have.
I remember as a boy being taken to Wrexham to see Wales play Russia in football and all I remember was that I was cold, bored and shocked that so many grown ups would willingly choose to waste their time with such a misery. So much dreary, dreary.
But that was football. Rugby was a different beast. Being Welsh and having lived all my life in west Wales, how could it not be? Everyone loved rugby in my sleepy corner of the world. The stunning defeat of New Zealand at Stradey Park in 1972 when the pubs ran dry (true story) after Llanelli beat them 9 - 3 was still fresh and though only a year old in 1972 the cheer carried on for many a year (even today).
I love rugby. I went to Strade comprehensive which was across the road from Stradey Park, our teachers would regularly take a class over to see the bigger games. Local legends Ray Gravelle and Phil Bennet came to the school, rugby was religion.
A force to channel a surge of passion and excitement, and bring some sunshine to a soon to be winters soul. Cawl for the spirit if you like.
So its pretty depressing to wake up every morning (2015 rugby world cup has kicked off) to hear of yet another injury to the Welsh squad. Do the rugby gods not want a Welsh win? Or are they planning a spectacular run of victories? Who can tell?
Life has a funny (and sometimes tragic) way of showing us what is and isn't important and for me I only need think back a week when the news was full of pictures of that poor child washed up on a beach dead. Real life is heavy and though the soul can withstand ferocious heartbreak when called upon, it was not made for such unbearable weight.
Naturally I want Wales, Cymru fach, to win and feed the dragon but ultimately its not important. Its not in the slightest bit important when we see others going through so much hurt.

Oh and remember! I am not saying this with defeat in mind and trying to pass it off as "there are other more important things to worry about" (here you can picture me winking knowingly). I don't play that game, as honest as the day is sharp, I can take both sweet and sour in equal measure and face them naked in my honesty.

Joe Moral the Rat

"I'm going queer in the morning, ding dong the boys are gonna smile.


Apologies to Alan Jay Lerner for my taking liberties with his lyrics (huge fan of My Fair Lady by the way) but strange as it sounds, these were the lines which popped into my head earlier while perusing the tabloid headlines announcing the first wave of gay weddings.
Yes indeedy do! Today is the day! And before this blog goes up in a holy fireball, allow Mr Jakes to spell it out: gay couples in England and Wales can now legally get married. Indeed eager to celebrate this, one of the first homosexual marriages took place at midnight in Brighton and I wish them much happiness. Now for the most part, straight folk are not too bothered and woke up this morning like they do every Saturday; thinking about this afternoons shopping or football before getting themselves airbrushed for a night on the WDK (or whatever 'chic' sugary water is the current tipple for trendy weekend warriors). Its no big deal and my guess is, they (like me) will wish gay couples all the best before getting on with life (there's a Premiership to be won afterall).
It is 2014. Equality is king, and while there are a good many who oppose gay marriage, someone ought to tell them the 'fight' is over and little is to be gained by voicing their opinions (which might sound ironic coming from a blogger Laughs Out Loud). Remember, it is not so long ago that women were fighting for equal rights, and people were sold in chains. Wake up! Those dark days are behind us now, belonging to a time best left in chains of its own, to fester in its ignorance.
Of course taking this post 'solo', readers might come to the conclusion that Dai Jakes is a raving liberal, yet in the past ive been called such gems as "the bastard son of Peter Hitchens and Rush Limbaugh" (now that would be an interesting date *guffaws*) so I am hardly of liberal stock. I just cannot see, or be bothered with, the hate. Its not interfering with my life, and its not like gay marriage is compulsory, so live and let live. When all is said and done, gay marriage doesn't hinder a heterosexuals life but could improve the happiness of a loving gay couple so hush and let them be happily married.
I for one can't abide intolerance. And neither am I fond of irrational outbursts. Examples? Go online to one of the newspaper sites carrying this story (so pretty much every British one) and in the Comments section underneath we can read outraged loons spout things like, "its against God! We will burn in hell!" Or, "disgraceful! Our morals are dead!"
Forgetting that, last time I checked, 74% Brits do not bother going to church so weird how suddenly God makes an appearance. As for our newly discovered moral guardians? Yeah sure, they convince me...until obeying this recently acquired morality iconveniences them in some way.
Listen, the esteemed Mr Jakes isn't perfect and doesn't have the answers to everything but I do know a couple of things: gay marriage is not a plague upon our land, and humanity won't implode in a ball of goodly fire if we allow it. So my advice to naysayers would be ~ lead your own life, cause no bother to others and if you can't be nice toward others, be silent. To the new surge of bible thumpers? Well, hope to see you guys down at the pews tomorrow. It is a Sunday remember!

Toodle pip for now!

Wales Opt IN for Organ Donation

Last night Wales became the first country in Great Britain to introduce a policy of presumed consent for organ donation. The Human Transplantation Bill (in Wales) was approved by the National Assembly (43 in favour, only 8 against) so from 2015 people who have been a resident in Wales (18+ age) for more than 12 months will have to make it clear they do not wish to donate their organs, and if not then consent will be deemed to have been given.
Now inevitably there are have been murmurs of disagreement, and arguments from religious angles but on the whole, folk have thought it a positive step with some doctors admitting its very forward thinking of Wales.
Dai Jakes thoroughly approves too; it gives me a warm glow inside to think bits of my body will be living in someone else after ive shuffled off this mortal coil (providing any organs are of use of course!) A final good deed and triumphant last hurrah of a life lived well (or at least as well as one could.) Why not? Im sure there are clever philosophical arguments to be made against automatic organ donation but when all is said and done, you will be dead and being dead doesn't require petty things as limbs and eyeballs, trust me on this. You will either be spirit or dust.
Still not convinced by the always humble Mr Jakes? No worries! This isn't mandatory, having an opt out system for organ donation doesn't remove any rights from you so simply opt out. Easy. I could stir the pot and finish by saying, heck if you feel so strongly about it, carry a card which says, "Im A Selfish Person And Don't Want My Organs Used After Death ", but im in a fairly jovial mood today so I won't. Toodle pip for now!

Justice for April Jones

No fun in the sun here

Yesterday the wretch that is Mark Bridger was given a whole life sentence for the murder of 5 year old April Jones. He will die in prison. And you know what? Dai Jakes is satisfied with that result. Long time readers of this blog will know by now that it is a supporter of the hangman and scaffold but for once there is relief that death will be a very long time coming (providing the Scum That Is Bridger doesn't hit upon some razor blades and a death wish.)
To begin with, he will be a Category A prisoner stuck in a prison within a prison with up to seven others on his disgusting kind. Single cage, monitored 24/7. Just one hour exercise, five days a week, clothes taken off him every evening, meals eaten in a cage after coming all the way from a kitchen (so you can imagine what they will be like when he receives them.) And certainly nobody will want to talk to the Scum That Is Bridger. He will forever be within a shout of the general population shouting out what they will do to him when they get him and chances are someone WILL get to him (they did Huntley and Whiting.) He will never be safe, never be able to trust anyone, never have a friend and best of all the Scum That Is Bridger will live in fear always until the end of his days. One way or another he will suffer every minute of ever day for this vile crime.

Compared to all of this, death would be so very easy.

Rest in peace April fach, justice has been done. Hedd, perfaith hedd x

In Care of a Mortal Thread

Hedd, Perfaith Hedd

This could be an extension to an earlier post about the frailness of life, and however much a heavy heart that is behind the force that wills me to write it, write I must.
Such dreadful news last week when we heard of the mini bus crash on the M62 near Pontefract which killed one girl and seriously injured a dozen others (indeed the bride to be may never walk again.) On their merry way to celebrate a hen party, about as far from the thoughts of death as you could ever hope to be, and in an instant their world is cruelly shattered forever. A sobering jerk back into dreadful reality.
What a foul blow! How mercilessly each and every one of us are shadowed by death; a fragile thread which anchors us to life but at any second could end with less force than a sparrows heartbeat. One breeze less than the flicker of a flame. Such gentle turbulence that carries mortals onward through collared mists, on roads, on seas and valleys of wild woods.
This should serve as a reminder that however bad life may seem, the clockwork of the heart must continue or else be doomed to an even earlier grave, where the cancer of misery cuts down human roots without pity or care. Death is not a solves solver of problems, it simply hides them better while sadness cuts to the quick.
Think on these tragic incidents when the smile fades.

RIP Bethany Jones, may the softest lullabies sing you to your rest.

Nevermind the Ifs, Drink the Water

This is going to annoy some religious folk but it needs saying and I care little for any offence caused because in my eyes it is you who are being offensive. On the subject of gay marriage you can all pack your bags and leave on the following train out of civilisation. Go back to worshipping sticks and begetting each others oxen because your opinion is neither wanted or needed and it was wonderful to hear the President of the United States on Wednesday publicly support it (making him the first President in history to do so). Good for you Mr Obama!
I dont understand why religion and God are brought into the gay marriage debate. There is a huge chance that it really is to dust we return after death, and that holy books merely mans fairytales and hope in what becomes of our immortal souls. A hope born of
fear of dying. God may actually not be God.
Why deny yourself a love you know to be 100% true out of fear of the wrath of a God who may or may not exist? And even if this Supreme Being does exist, we cannot truly know His mind. He could be in favour of gay marriage and its just those Christians who are againt it putting words into his mouth for their own ends/beliefs. Its all IFS and BUTS, supposition and arguments. all against a backdrop of certainty (as far as the gay couple is concerned). Knowing that you are content within yourself is all that should matter, do not sacrifice it for the the maybes in this world. That path leads to turmoil, and the wise will be be true to themselves before anything else.
Why is the marriage between two men or women such a big deal anyway? This world is slowly turning to a swab of cotton soaked with blood and tears, and we worry about who is marrying who? A perfect nonsense! Which rather proves why Mankind took so long to evolve and attain enlightenment (which we still haven't fully grasped as this silly debate shows). Three hundred years ago we were putting young women on bonfires because a skin blemish such as a mole on her neck marked her out as a witch. We dont do that anymore. One hundred and fifty years ago we thought it was okay to force children up chimneys in order to clean them. We don't do that anymore. And not so long ago, we thought slavery to be acceptable. We don't anymore.
You can clearly see where im going and whether one is in favour of same sex couples marrying or not, pretty soon it won't matter because they WILL be afforded the same equality and rights that straight couples enjoy. The doubters and those inflicted with narrow minds can shout and stamp their feet, throw their petty arguments and spite around all they want, but they will (and soon) be swept aside by the voice of common reason from their fellow man. (And if they were to further carry on the bitterness, be utterly lost and swallowed by their own hate). Reason being that marriage is marriage is MARRIAGE, and the backward thinkers and pew sitters can be left alone to wallow in their uncivilised cesspits. And to think these fools call gays such names as 'abominations' and 'evil'. Cretins never cease to amaze (and amuse) me, and I only wonder if they don't think the same of disabled people and those with different skin colour. Afterall it wouldn't be such a giant leap to make.
Listen, the real abominations of this world are not those folks who are in same sex relationships. The real evil are not those who Love and care for each other. No, the truly rotten crew are those who seek to poison everything with pious rantings and those who would wish eternal damnation on others purely because they choose to live a different way. A pox on them all! they are so blinded by hatred they cannot recognise the poppycock they spout but the hour will come when they wake up from their mental slumber. I can only hope that they do it before the bitterness entirely consumes them because a soul fed hatred will be a soul in torment come the encore after the final curtain falls on their life.
Live, Love and be not tempted to judge others. Care not what the gods and idols think (or what you think they think) , and never be so sure that you know all truths from holy books. This life is vast and forever turning forward, moving onto newer pastures where we ought to remeber lessons learned from earlier mistakes in order to make today and tomorrow better than yesterday. .

Don't Fan The Fantasy

Okay first let me say that I have been watching/looking at pornography since I was around 13 and im no prude who thinks its a filthy thing to be burned from existence. Indeed pornography (the normal legit type) keeps a couples relationship spiced up and promotes a very healthy sexual relationship. In short, I love porn! (And have amassed quite a vast collection on dvd *wink*)
But some men have difficulty detatching the fantasy from reality. They watch the porn where the women/men are prepared to indulge in every type of sex where no part of of the body is sacred (im trying to be as clean as possible here) and 'juices' fly onto cheeks and tongues in abundance. The performers are up for anything. (And yes! They even swallow!) And all this is fine and dandy of course, except when guys (its mostly us blokes) try to get wives and girlfriends to do the same things in the bedroom. (Or kitchen/living room/balcony/roof).


Open up and say 'Arrrgghh!'

Lets be honest here, who really has a wife that is willing to do half the stuff that happens in porno? (Put your hand down, lucky dude in the back with a nympho bride.) Would men really like to see their beloved wifey behave like a crack whore in a dark alley? I have a hunch that if those guys actually saw it they would be horrified and definately not turned on.
Yes there needs to be adventure between the bedsheets, and im all for trying new and filthy things but there has to be respect and a limit. Afterall these naughty minxes in the triple X movies are paid to behave like slutz. Of course they're up for anything! But I suspect if you saw your partner in a bukkake party you would freak the f**k out.
Like I said, every couple needs to be adventurous, I am no sexual wet sponge myself but I don't wish to dive fully into the fantasy because some lines are not meant to be crossed, and those who have dared have paid a very high price with relationships shattering like a million a*al beads. My motto is ~ Im up for anything but everything. Have fun!

Hitting The Big Four O

In 22 days God willing I will turn 40. I will be forty years old. Am I daunted by this? Am I running around like a headless chicken (headless chickens are cool), trying to somehow find a way to stop the relentless march of time? Well in a word, no. On the contrary I am looking forward to it like I would a triple cheese pizza delivered by Emily Deschanel wearing nothing but high heels.
My thirties were blighted by the deaths of close family members, and spells of addiction and desperate lows. In my early thirties I feared at times that I would lose myself and never find my way back. They were horrid, filled with nasty dramas and the further I get from them in years, the happier I feel.
The only bright periods were meeting She Who Must Be Obeyed and the arrival of my daughter at the end of last year. Oh and the times Ive spent in Ireland! The rest of the time from 29 to 40 can go to hell.


Emily ten minutes before the pizza turned up

Thirty for me was being inbetween the bell and the rainbow, or like being a novice cobweb. In other words I still felt (or feel) the giddy learner, groping at Life's seams. From 30 to 39 is plywood. At 20 I had acceleration, from 40 I'll have it with purpose. Bring it on with all its four decades of anticipated glory!
Most people are afraid of getting older but the fear really is an anathema to me. One must suffer a great deal with insecurity if they look at birthdays beyond 40 with dread. These days age is not like it was a hundred years ago due to the advances in medicine and different lifestyles in general.
And face it, 40 is hardly old age. If I were to flake out right now at this keyboard, it would be a young age I would have died at, regardless of how close I am to being 40. Also what about those poor souls who were unfortunate to not live long in this life? The children and teenagers. I find it insulting in the extreme when folk bemoan the fact they are getting older, when others didn't ever get the chance.
No, like I say, im looking forward to it and many drinks will be downed in celebration not sadness on August 23rd.