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.

We the People?

In three days time, Americans go to the polls to choose who their next President will be, Trump or Biden. And regardless of the usual media hype that accompany these events, this is a moment of history. Both Republicans and Democrats, though obviously disagreeing on most everything else, know that a win means everything. It is one of those times when being in the losers camp is too horrid to contemplate. Such has been the impact of Trump's Presidency. Whatever your opinion of the man (I personally like him and would vote for him if I was American), President Trump has singlehandedly made politics a much more exciting place, even for people who would normally sooner watch paint dry. One thing Ive noticed is how much the Democrats have been hammering the fact that this is a choice that 'We the People' must make to turn the tides and make right what for them the Republicans have been doing wrong under Trump. Of course being on the opposite side of the political fence (some would call it a canyon these days), I am pointing out the obvious but I do wonder what the liberals will think should Trump triumph on Tuesday like he did four years ago? Will they still believe in, 'We the People' and accept the decision? Certainly they didn't accept it in 2016 and have been sour ever since. And listen, I don't wish to doubt anyone, I realise folk will be upset/angry if Trump gets another term in office but if Democrats truly have faith in 'We the People' and hold it precious to democracy, they ought honour the decision with dignity and not think it is the end of the world because it really won't be. It must be the same if Republicans lose also. If having a vote is priceless, and democracy is the soul of a free nation, treat it as such.

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.

Corvid 19 UK Response

To be clear, this video isn't mine, its by Footman 447 on YouTube who recently went viral (you have probably seen it already). Its excellent and the government should consider putting it out as a television advert immediately.

The Fallen, In Remembrance

We Will Never Forget


The world has just fallen silent to mark the centenary of Armistice. One hundred years has passed since World War 1. As always during the two minute silence that I always, always observe my mind bounces between prayer, reflection and gratitude, my eyes like diamonds holding tears that were I to give in to the sorrow that shrouds my soul on such occasions, I would have great difficulty in recovering. And this is coming from someone who has never set foot on a battlefield during times of war. I cannot even begin to try and imagine what veterans are feeling on Armistice day, so I wont pretend to try.

The world owes a debt to soldiers that can never be adequately repaid. The gratitude ought to hang from our every breath. Our freedoms earned by the blood and souls of those we call heroes, and are indeed heroes, even when the word is still not grand enough. We thank you, I thank you, a million times thank you. Not enough I know, you deserve much much more.


a short addendum
I wasn't going to do this but sadness gave way to anger and the article pulled me back. The thing that makes me most sad (and im not alone in this of course) is the fact that we expect the courageous to fight for us, to give the ultimate sacrifice and die for us, but we never learn and whether it is twenty years or two hundred years, our species are quick to war. We never tire of it. We pat ourselves on the back and throw around words like "civilised" but don't believe a word of it. Individually we might be but humans on the whole are just as savage as the first of our kind were when they walked the earth.
We can pretend otherwise but war is in our blood. To be man is to be with the sword and furies.

from "The Green Fields of France

Well the sorrow the suffering the glory the pain
The killing the dying was all done in vain
For young Willy Mc Bride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Atari Co Founder Dies

History. So few of us ever get to truly make history, to stamp your foot on the world and its generations, and leave it with something that will keep your name alive forever. Atari Co founder Ted Dabney did just that, and as a longtime player of videogames, I was saddened to hear of his death over the weekend. I only hope he knew how happy he made kids like myself.
You don't have to have played videogames to recognise Atari and its famous logo. Its a genuine icon from the 1980s. And while not everyone is a games fan, I would wager everyone has played Pong. Come now, you know you have.
Ted Dabney helped lay the foundations for one of the greatest, most varied artistic mediums on the planet. A real legend among pretenders and the memories of kids like me, keep our inner child alive as we run from the humble Pong to the current generation of videogames.


Ted Dabney, a pioneer, visionary.

Rest In Peace sir,
you made millions happy xXx

Enduring Spirit

Im not the biggest fan of Olympic games, no not even the Queen arrived via parachute with James Bond in London (it was cool though), so I will more than likely miss the entire thing but thanks to Pathe this is the piece of historic film that stays with me, as it does all surely, as evidence of the all conquering spirit of man that reaches beyond athletics.

Dragon Ball

*The title to this post was a given if you know your Japanese fighting games

Regular readers of my blog will know that my knowledge of football (a game I have always called 'soccer' despite other Brits insisting its football), begins and ends at zero. Heck, the only reason I know Leicester City won the Premier league is because it was big news and impossible to ignore. It was also a perfect example of how passion trumps money every single time but that's a blog for another time.
Of course nobody needs to be an expert to fire up a prediction (in fact some of the most accurate predictions come from laymen) so seeing as I misplaced my drum roll im going for a 3 - 2 final score in favour of we Welshies.

And why not? Its closer to the mark than our neighbours on the other side of Offa'a Dyke will be getting. You gotta have a ticket to win the raffle

Wales 3 = 2 Portugal

And even if we lose then leaping from a world rating of 117 to arrive at the door of a Semi Final is still hreat going mun.

EU: Stick or Twist

In 20 minutes time the voting will be closed. Will we be In or Out and who will be shaking it all about (apologies, couldn't resist). Whatever happens I don't believe qw wsome commentators do, that nothing will be the same again. Of course if it is said to add a touch of drama then I understand but if they genuinely believe it, then no.
Sure things will be icy between the two camps in the immediate aftermath but we are British and have been around a looong time, (hell we could teach history about history) and we are beyond tantrums, these ages forge a wiser bond.

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

Dare to Dream, Leicester

Regular readers will know by now that that in the great scheme of all things sport, football features pretty low down on the list. I mean, I would sooner watch show jumping than a game of soccer, but today? In the spirit of all dramas and tradition of change, I will be a footie 'fan' because plucky underdogs Leicester City are on course to deliver a grand upset and add its name to the long list of British sporting achievements. And this is a team that im reliably informed was fighting relegation last season.
Too many things are labelled "legends" and "heroes" these days but Leicester City will become one of the few genuine heroes which is a welcome pause from the shitty news this world serves up.

Leicester City were 5000 to 1 betting odds at the beginning of the season, and even when the doubters did their sour doubting thing the Foxes stayed their course to railroad through, too busy making history to be concerned with doubting Thomas mob.

Anyway enough blah blah, gp Foxes, go!

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

Hall of Heroes

We live in a world where celebrity is king, where success is judged by the amount of followers you have on social media. Actors, singers, athletes alike, everyone wants a piece of their of their favourite hero. But no matter how much records you sell, Oscar winning films you make, classic novels you write, medals you win there will always be a quiet hero from WW2 who outshines them all like .

Captain Eric "Winkle" Brown is one such man. He sadly passed away recently after reaching the grand age 97 (as it should be, heroes should live long). Captain Brown has an achievement that truly can be called awesome.
2,407 deck landings at sea and 2,721 catapult launches. He flew every major combat aircraft of WW2 including gliders, fighters, bombers, airliners, amphibians, flying boats and helicopters,. nd his contribution to aviation research covered transonic flight, assessment of German jets and rocket aircraft, rotary wing flight, and the first carrier decklanding of a jet aircraft.

Now if that doesn't impress you, nothing will.

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.

Lemmy: Killed By Death

Lemmy is dead. Cant quite believe I had to type that. Ian Kilmister seemed indestructible, the Keef Richards of heavy metal if you like (although the man himself didn't think Motorhead were geavy metal). Ageing gods like Lemmy, Ozzy, Rob Halford don't die, they can't, its not part of the plan. Or this is what I had always believed in my 35 years as a metalhead before last nights news smacked me around the head.
Crazy as it sounds (and this is something else I can't believe im typing) I wasn't much into Motorhead, in the beginning, preferring instead Iron Maiden, Saxon and Judas Priest. There is room for all of course but the younger me wouldn't have it and snobbishly I always looked down on Lemmy's crew. I loved Ace of Spades and Killed By Death but there my appreciation ended. Luckily it didn't last and when I finally succumbed to the iron fist, I went to HMV and hoovered up every Motorhead album they had. Ah those wasted years, but I put it right in the end.

No more Motorhead. Funnily enough, half an hour before the sad news broke, I was listening to the older records, so one might say that I was with Lemmy when he passed.

No more Motorhead. I can't believe it.

*This is just a quick post, I will tidy it up when im less stunned. The music is all that matters anyway.

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.

Paris: Perfect Hope through Wild Cruelty

Its difficult to keep a sober heart in times when we see more gravestones than horizons, and those dreadful scenes in Paris barely a week ago, has made that foul brew of tragedy more bitter. More soul crushingly dark. It would be all too easy to mould our hearts into fists of vengeance and get lost forever in a carnival of blood and anger.
Fortunately the descent into chaos is slowed by exceptional souls. People like Antoine Leiris, a Parisian who penned an open letter to the terrorists telling them that they will not win his hatred. The achingly sad letter has gone viral on social media, and gives us a glimpse hope in purest form. I have read it five times now and each time the reading forges what feels like solid tears anew. I won't copy it all here because I feel that would somehow intrude on his Facebook post but here is a snippet:

"I saw her this morning. Finally, after nights and days of waiting. She was just as beautiful as when she left on Friday night, just as beautiful as when I fell hopelessly in love over 12 years ago. Of course I am devastated by this pain, I give you this little victory, but the pain will be short-lived. I know that she will be with us every day and that we will find ourselves again in this paradise of free love to which you have no access."

And I am crying again now. Such a beautiful force to make the darkness tremble! A lone voice among the fiery bones of despair. Pure hearted spirits like Antoine Leiris are truly the lifeforce orld needs to crush evil, keepers of a diamond light that can, and will, banish send hatered howling into the void.

.
Antoine Leiris. Your strength and courage brings hope with the power of a tempest. No words of mine can ever describe the love. Godspeed your healing.