Monday, 19 March 2018


Deaglan, still playing with his hands, nervous energy evident in all of his actions, waited for the quick nod. It had been, probably, over 4 years since his last confession. Since that time he’d experienced a lot, changed job a few times, met a lot of new people, seen small parts of the world but still yearned for his Irish roots. Settling back into his home life he’d managed to establish something worth living for but, no matter what he’d seen, done, or planned to do, he still knew that there were important things to in life.

He heard the knock and opened the confessional booth door. The cold dark wood, probably older than him, creaked ever so slightly as the small room welcomed him. Sitting on his hands, still nervous, he said the words that he hadn't heard for the longest time, while making the sign of the cross, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been four years since my last confession!”  Deaglan felt the shame but, with the way of things, that shame wasn't as strong as it used to be. He knew that times had changed, but no matter what, he believed and that was all that counted. He heard Father Patrick clear his throat before speaking, “Tell me Son, tell me your thoughts!”

Deaglan, not one to gossip, or to follow the general thinking of today, decided to be honest despite his thoughts torturing him. If he’d told friends, or colleagues, he knew that he would be laughed at so now was the time, the place, to be brave and honest. “Father,” he paused, selecting his words carefully, “There is a woman that I like.”  He could see Father Patrick move ever so slightly, which didn't calm his nerves.

“Tell me Son,” Father Patrick asked, “what is troubling you? It is perfectly fine for such things.”
Deaglan looked down, taking in the view of the carpet, quickly snapping back to his thoughts, 
“It’s just that she’s been chasing me Father. My thoughts are not as pure as they should be.”  As the words moved from his lips, with each second, a small weight lifted from his mind. He didn't follow the normal convention of things, trying to stay as pure a possible which, in today’s age, seemed to be getting harder and harder.

A few seconds arrived and left as Father Patrick mused the situation. Eventually, slowly, he moved closer to ensure that Deaglan heard his words, “Son… Do you think that Adam, as well as Eve, committed a sin by being with each other?  It is okay for a woman to chase a man, as much as it is acceptable for a man to court a woman. There is no venial or mortal sin, even when we are in our natural naked state.  It is normal. It is natural.”  Deaglan, floored by the answer, could barely find any words to reply but, due to his silence, Father Patrick continued, “Eve did not tempt Adam with her body, not once, as we desire, as beings of love and passion, it was by an outside snake that she unwittingly eat the forbidden fruit and, in doing so, offered the sin to Adam.”

As Deaglan relaxed that little bit more he asked the serious question that had been playing on his mind, “Should I ask her out for a meal Father?”
“Of course you should Son, as soon as possible. I gather that your intentions are just?”
“They are Father, they are, despite her words being on the rude side!”  
Father Patrick laughed, “Son, words are words. Intentions lead to actions and if you become man and wife, the words will all be worthwhile. Embrace the chance you have. Now, do you have anything else you would like to say?” Deaglan shook his head before confirming that he didn’t.
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good,” said Father Patrick to which Deaglan replied,
“For His mercy endures forever!”

Deaglan stood and exited the booth, knowing that he’d say penance as soon as he could. He couldn't believe the reply, wondering what he would now do. Walking from the Church, onto the path outside, he looked at his phone, opening the chat application, to which he started writing a text that made his intentions clear. He had a pure heart, a good heart, a heart that always made his Mother proud and he intended to keep it.

As the message flew into the world of electronic communication, he smiled, finally knowing that his growing feelings weren’t something to be ashamed of. Sometimes, at least on this very day, confessing his supposed sin cleared the way to a new world. Looking back, towards the church, a bigger smile appeared across his lips and he knew that today, his confessional day, was truly a day of days.

Saturday, 17 March 2018


Exhaling hard, lungs on fire, she stopped and closed her eyes. Trying to regulate the breathing mess that she’d managed to get herself into, listening to her heart, beating, battering against her chest and thoughts. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy but, many things worth doing, never were.

Opening her eyes, looking upwards, she embraced the view in front of her. The mountain, that mountain, that she’d wanted to climb for the longest time had finally knocked on her door and invited her to roam. She’d accepted the challenge, risen from her daily mundane life and taken that day off. For once, just this once, she’d decided to fall away from the routine of things.

With each step her body asked her to turn, to slowly descend back to the bottom, but that wasn't going to happen. Other than her body feeling agitated, she wasn't in any danger, so she scorned her mind and told herself to shut up. It was, after all, only a mountain and the path were laid out directly in front of her. Sure, the twists and turns were there, with many plainly in view, but it wasn't anything that difficult.

Images roamed into her thoughts as she advanced, of her state of mind, her current situation, as well as a few distant choice moments that she’d wished not to be reminded of. But this was her mind, her life, hardly a mess, but a jumble of ideals, thoughts and inner fights. She knew that she had confidence issues, those nagging doubts that seemingly pushed at her heart strings. She was an expert at self defeat, but not all the time, just in the occasional circumstances that mattered.

Her earlier life seemed to be full of moments, those moments, where you just wanted to run away and hide. Sure, of course, she smiled a little as she remembered that she’d actually achieved far more than she’d failed at, yet her mind did seek any opportunity to interject choice words of negative fate. She could do this, yet because of that, she didn't place that foot forward. Shame, a tragic affair, but the same for many, many people and moments.

Nearing the top, or at least the top that she could see, she’d managed to get her breathing under control, that second breath of energy. Sometimes, she reminded herself, stopping didn't mean failing. It simply meant that she was stopping to catch a breath, to strategise, or to simply scream into the face that looked at her in the mirror. This was life, this was her life, so she, above all, controlled every single little aspect.

She knew that she’d been facing a small inner crisis, for the shortest time, or was it the longest time? She didn't know, probably didn't care at this point, due to the new climbing boots biting into her ankles. The pain, sure to follow, wouldn't matter as she was a woman and women knew pain all too well. Mental, physical, with her soul sometimes cracking in the process.

She took one mighty step forward and reached the top of the mountain, looking into the valley ahead of her, smiling as she sat down on the cold concrete bench. Hardly a challenge to be proud of, as she’d been here a few times before, but this visit being for something different. Brushing her hair aside, bundling it into a hair clip, she embraced the situation and stood. Proud, full of energy, wishing for someone, somewhere to hear her and, most of all, to hear herself. She clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her voice. Every single bit of energy, she had left, she let loose as she fell to her knees. Her adrenaline spiked, her face started to turn red, as she continued to scream.

A tear appeared, followed by a few more, as she stopped screaming. The echo. She heard her own scream, a few times, until it vanished. Although she felt a bit embarrassed, with just the thought of saying such things, she shouted out the words that appeared in her mind, “I believe in you,” pausing to hear her own voice echoing, smiling as she heard her own voice tell her what she needed to hear, “I believe that you’re worthwhile. I'm here for you!”

Many words, many echoes, were spoken. Returning to the seat she felt a small weight lift from her mind. So many people, so many times, everyone told her, informed her, that she was worthwhile, that she could accomplish anything she set her mind and heart to. It didn't matter. The damage, the years of damage, had been done. So many words of negativity, so many moments that made her heart crack into small pieces where, finally, she had to hear her say the very words that she wanted to believe. Within her, her mind, but most of all her heart, hearing herself finally admit that she could lift her tired arms, that she could truly put her heart into any adventure, made that small bit of difference to her.

For far too long she’d heard the echoes of past lovers, past failures, past demons, that hearing the echo of positivity was something that she had to do for herself. Standing once again, drying her eyes, she nodded at the valley, expressing thanks, then turned to walk back down the mountain.

Saturday, 10 March 2018


At the start, we know, we knew, that we had a chance to make things work. The adventure of a lifetime, filled with kisses, affection and more. A lasting roller-coaster of emotion that could see us into the later years. I knew, we know, that we had to hold what we had with careful hands, like a new born, but instead we lambasted everything into oblivion.

It’s a shame, it’s a sacrifice, it’s sacrilege to reminisce all the things that we said and didn't do. If I cast my net back to the past I can also see that some of the things that we did do, were just plainly unjustified and possibly cruel. A heart can be loved but, in the same breath, it can be crushed alive and kicked to the side quicker than the words, “I love you,” stop echoing from the halls of romance.

Previously I mentioned a roller-coaster, the ups and downs, not just in the bedroom where we should all experience the making of love, but in the negative sense. We feed, we throw around words designing to manipulate, to sever, to inflict pain, that are so seamless from normal life that it becomes the norm. When did it become practical to hold the hand of your loved one while, in the very next breath, state such negative threatening behaviour that you can see the heart struggle. It’s crippling, its depth knows all of the anger in the world, today, tomorrow and the next day.

It’s done, it’s gone, it has left our world, ready to be replaced with a kinder view, a hand that holds instead of brandishing words ready to scold.

At the start there’s smiles, there’s tenderness, as we listen to the stories of old. Some filled with laughter, some spoken of sadness, but mainly that chance to form something new. Personally, when I'm here thinking of such things, I’d rather keep the past where it’s passed from view. It’s done, gone, over, left behind and no longer of use. I’d rather not speak of such things, the loves of old, instead moving with a view of creating a new set of memories with someone new. Why embrace the failed nature of things? We've lived there, been there, survived and moved forward. Do we need to embrace a new heart with stories of something broken?

Of course we do. It’s nature, it’s how things have been defined. Create a connection via shared failings, broken hearts, wishing and escalating the very chance to find something that’ll fix us, define us, move us forward. Two hearts can beat as one yet, as we've found, one heart need not stifle the other. It happens, it’s happening now, a person’s opinion being silenced in the vain effort to always be correct. No-one, never, should ever, dismiss someone’s thoughts when they don’t correlate to theirs. That isn't love, this isn't the way of understanding, as it’s cruel and demanding. Childish even.

Let love speak, let it breath, let it escape into the hearts of every single person we meet on a daily basis. Heck, we can manage to be ever so pleasant to strangers yet vile and disgusting to the ones that hold our very hand. Where can this possibly come from? Where does it hide?

At the start, we realise, we experience, the very chance to make something magical. It’s an adventure waiting to happen, filled with wide open eyes and kissing lips. A lasting rise of emotion that should see us into our later years. I realise, we experience, holding a new hand, with wishes of something amazing but, instead, we sometimes destroy the very thing that we really, really need.


Written last month but not finished until today.

Monday, 5 March 2018


There will always been very difficult moments in our lives, more than might be necessary, but we have little choice or say for those matters. There will be the few seconds where you just want to be somewhere else, to be someone else, or to simply stop existing as you cover your ears and close your eyes.

I considered myself lucky, so far in this life, as I’d only had to deal with the odd heartbreak which, looking back, was actually nothing at all. As long as our previous partners are alive, doing okay, still smiling, then we have nothing to really cry or be upset about. Love isn't supposed to be selfish, love shouldn't hold another back and love, above all, is what we really should want for whomever we do or do not know.  That’s life, the way of things, but still easier to write than actually do.

A few years ago, within one of those moments, I held my mother’s hand as she felt her heart break into small pieces. She’d just lost her Mother, my Grandmother, to life and circumstance. She looked into my eyes and asked me, “How am I supposed to carry on?” to which I replied with any number of words that simply wouldn't ease her mind, soul or heart. Truly, honestly, there’s nothing that can be said at those moments. Me, being me, carried on being positive as that’s what I do. I smile, I don’t break, I keep on going as that’s what people need in this world. There has to be strong people and I believe that we can all be strong.

In that moment I witnessed my Mother reaching a place that I’d never seen her reach before. She cried, she broke, but only for a few moments. Mothers aren't supposed to show weakness to their children, is what I believe to be her thinking, which is beautiful and truly brave. I know that, when alone, my mother probably cried so much, again and again, but she kept on going as that’s what we do. We carry on.

I can, hand on heart, honestly state that I didn't really appreciate how my mother felt, on that day. We don’t. We can try to place ourselves into another’s shoes but it’s still not the same. There’s a lifetime of events within a soul. There’s love, anger, pain, loss, sorrow, happiness, laughter and much, much more. I’m not sure that anyone can ever truly appreciate that kind of bond when it’s taken from a person.

Then, on this day one year ago, my own Mother left this existence.  I type with clarity yet, at this moment, I can barely see the keys as all I can see is tears. I knew that the anniversary was coming, with a reminder this morning from an Instagram post, but it still didn't prepare me. Nothing can. Nothing will.

You see, to most people, they see me as the happy one, the funny one, the person that’s always optimistic, always jumping around and doing silly things. That’s who I am, of course, but there will always be the deeper person within. You see this from what and how I write. There’s an old soul within my body, I don’t know how or why, or even if I believe in such things, but it’s there. But old soul or not, I know that something happened last year, which I denied for a while, but I eventually noticed that I'm broken. I know that I am. I accept that I am. Something changed just as it changed within my Mother.

Like my Mother I also have a lifetime of events within my heart, the thousands of times my Mother held my hand while walking to school. The hundreds of times she brushed away the scratched knee, the cuts and scratches, the time that she pressed her hand against the life support machine praying that I’d live and more. Mother is always there. Mothers always care. I know that it’s not the same for everyone but I'm the luckiest Boy in the world to have had a mother like mine.

I find that, when falling asleep at night, I will recall so many things and I’ll allow myself to cry. When driving I can reach a place that makes me literally scream at the world. Tears and more tears. I will never, ever, be the same again. Life will never be the same again. But that, of course, is the desperate mind at work that simply wishes for things to return to the way they were. I could say that I've accepted the circumstances of life, but that would be a lie and, honestly, I really do not like lies. I could wish to give away my remaining years, in a vain selfish effort to see her again, but that would mean throwing away the gift that my Mother gave me… life. I’ll heal, as much as a person can, as that’s what Mother would have wanted.

Our worlds are built upon glass houses and the strange thing is that the house didn't break, but the foundation, the foundation that’s always been there, is no longer. If a freight train hit head on, breaking every single bone in my body, I’d somehow find the strength to heal and carry on. That would be a mission, something to work towards, but this just made so many people feel helpless. There’s no solution, there’s no recovery, only loss.

Whenever I do cry, allowing myself those brief moments, I can feel the cracks within myself, the straining of my heart, keeping my mind together but it is difficult. I knew, from an early age, that the day would come but, as I've stated, nothing prepares you for the day, that day.  One year, to this day, the person that gave me my blood, my soul, my very heart, left all of us. My Step Father, my Sister, my entire family near and far, will never forget as my Irish Mother was beautiful in every single little way.

I love you Mum. Always.

Friday, 2 March 2018


I'm barely breathing, only just existing, knowing that I'm so close to you. I know that touching skin, with the smoothest of fingertips, the most tender touch, can be invigorating, but feeling your body pressed against mine is making my entire person fall into some type of abyss.  I know the word abyss sounds daunting, even ominous, but it’s the kind of abyss that you’d never, ever, want to escape from.

I met you, only the other month, while out walking. It was raining, on that day of days, when you appeared from the other direction, crying. Normally I’d just carry on walking, wondering why you looked so forlorn, but I couldn't do that on this occasion and I still don’t know why. I didn't see your actual tears, because of the rain, until you stopped but I could see the pain etched across your face.

I asked if you were okay, with the kind intent in my voice, my persona exemplifying the care that I was feeling, to which you replied. You stated that you were, fine, perfectly okay, while crying that little bit more as the emotion escaped into the world. The rain didn't make it any better, with the chill drilling into your shoulders, so I did something else that I’d not normally do and that’s how we ended up in the coffee shop.

That coffee shop. We had some fancy coffee concoction and I'm not even sure if it contained any coffee. Whipped cream, chocolate, a truthful conversation, smiles, laughs, levels reached and boundaries be damned. You proclaimed that you’d been more honest with me, in those hours, than you’d been with any lover, Brother, Sister or Mother, in your life. Each word a connection, a moment, a place that exists in both our minds that made us smile. You admitted everything, your fears as a woman in this world, what lovers had failed to provide, what you didn't mind and, of course, what you most desired in this existence. You wanted love, to make love, the house, the family and, above all, to make those babies that were promised to you over and over again.

Then, from nowhere, you returned to that very place. We mentally explored the things said to each other, recalled each other over the following days, until one of us was brave enough to send that bubble of text. Reaching out, reaching forward, extending the chance to create another selection of moments. I enjoyed the honesty, I endeared your smile into my soul. Silly, stupidity at the highest point, but we both had dreams, had those hopes that something… existed. It’s a horrible thing, it’s a turn of fate, when the years vanish before us and we’re left with limited choices and chances. Fate, on the other hand, does work in mysterious ways and never, ever, plays by the rules you want.

We met, again, then again, exclaiming the values, the wants, the desires, that we’d wished that we’d have been brave enough to mention in past lives. We looked at each other in the way that the lovers were meant to view. Passion, desire, that wanton feeling, the bodies getting closer and closer as the minds connect. There was also some soul involved but there would be time for that at a later date. Right then, in those precious seconds of frail bonding, we had our hearts, minds and bodies to think about. Soul mates be damned as brain and bed mates had to make an appearance first.

Then, like that magic created each day within this very world, with the same said rain pounding down onto the roof of a small little room, we did what came natural. No music, all sounds banned, just emotion. Every single little motion that had been burning within, hidden away for year upon year, exploded over the both of us as we finally let go. Free, no bounds, yet, holding us back. We simply couldn't understand why we’d never held another in the fashion that we did on that night, over the days, the months, the years and seconds.

The natural order evolved into our lives. We held hands, we often escaped to new places, exploring, still realising that we had a lifetime of memories to exchange, to explore and enjoy. We created a life, the two of us. Then another. The two became four. The years flew away with ease, the many laughs sometimes arriving to tears, but that was life. We stayed strong as we’d bonded strong and, above all things no matter the storm or danger, we carried on holding hands. I never raised a hand to you, you never raised your voice to mine, which kept that respect forever.

I'm here now, beside you, nearing the end, the journey of our lives and loves. You were, you are, will always be, the love of my entire life. I never wanted to escape you. We never left each other alone. Now, as I've said, we've reached the later years of life. I love and adore you. I need and miss you often. I cannot let go, will never let go.

Thank you, from the bottom of my very heart, for being you. For being there, on that day, when the rain fell into our lives and our hearts fell into each other. You are and will always be, my everything.

Monday, 19 February 2018


The door slammed, the sound sending her two centimetres into the air with the fright. She had no idea what she was doing, why she was really here, but this was something that she had to do. She’d selected the appropriate outfit, dressed all in black, while not avoiding her favourite shoes, which thankfully matched. This was something that she’d not actually dreamed that she’d ever entertain, but with her thoughts constantly pushing her to take action, this was exactly what she intended to do.

For far too long she’d stayed in the background, with events unfolding around her, timid, while tense, wondering if she’d ever put that first foot forward. No, of course not, that wasn’t her personality at all. A wall flower, a hesitant follower of all things, all the while wishing to be something more. Her destiny, above all, was within her grasp and that was why she was here, right now, doing all of this.
It must have taken two weeks of constant mental juggling, the ever fighting thoughts threatening to spiral out of control, but no more. She was taking control, moving forward, even if it meant breaking into someone’s house. It wasn't difficult, with the person in question hardly taking security seriously, so this should be easy.

Approaching the inner door, after somehow slamming the entrance, she turned the handle as slowly as she could and, as the inches crept into view, she noticed the Rhodesian Ridge-back turn its head. Towards her. With a bark, quicker than she could actually act, the dog bounded from the floor towards the door with a growl. She quickly closed the door, her mind ablaze with running, escaping, but she’d not come this far to give up so easily.

Opening her black handbag, strewn across her shoulder, she flicked various items around before finding what she needed. Holding the lip gloss in her left hand she unscrewed with the right. It cost a mild fortune but would hopefully be worth it. Behind the door she could hear the dog barking, the growling menace with raised hair. With a gentle hand she opened the door, ever so slowly, holding the gloss, open, tempting the dog to take a lick of the unknowing treat. A sigh of relief escaped as the bait was taken and the door opened that little bit further. 

Stroking gently, a new found friend, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Across from her she found a chew toy, throwing it into the nearest room, with one more obstacle taken care of. To her left she glanced into a large front room, surrounded by windows and possibly the largest sofa she’d seen. To her right, another large room, with another sofa, nearly an echo of the other room albeit with a dog throwing around a toy. In front, of course, sat the main hallway and staircase. Putting the gloss away, into her bag, she made a mental note to throw it away at a later date as she advanced.

With each step carefully placed she moved up the stairs, just in case the slamming door, or barking dog, didn't wake anyone. She was, after all, wearing a scarf around most of her face but she still wanted advance warning if she had to run. Heart beating, adrenaline running, she was pretty confident that no-one was home. Just yet. Reaching the top she surmised that the main bedroom would be to the rear and so ignored the room to the left and carried on forward. 

If she had time, if this were a different location or situation, she might even take time to take in the lush paintings. Whomever had designed this house had taken their time but, when all was said and done, she wasn't here for that sort of thing. This was serious. This was happening right now.

Reaching the end of the upstairs hallway she pushed the ajar door, moving it forward with a fingertip. This was it, where she’d find what she’d been looking for. Answers, to many questions, resolutions, to the over thinking mind. As she took one step into the dark room, moving from the ambient light behind her, she heard the dog, which she’d left playing downstairs, bark and then she heard what she’d hoped that she wouldn't. Or, at least, this soon. The door, downstairs, opened and then closed. The echo hit her ears and the panic started. She wasn't prepared, not even close to being ready, but this moment would have to do. “Now or never,” she whispered to herself and her inner demons. Removing the scarf, throwing it into the void in front of her, she stepped behind the door into the dark that calmly welcomed her.

Footsteps, moving closer, increased her heartbeat. It seemed that her own heart threatened to send her spiralling but she calmed herself, took stock of the situation, knowing that the consequences needed to be damned. Her choice, her actions and her resolution. A few seconds moved forward and, as she froze, for the briefest moment, a figure appeared to her side with their back facing her. The figure, standing still, stood there probably wondering why the front gate was slightly open. Her mind shouted at her to move and, with a brave fleeting moment, she forced her limitations aside and embraced the demon sitting on her shoulder. 

Pushing the door as hard as she could, with the room descending to darkness as it closed, she stepped forward and, as he turned, she spoke, “It’s me,” she said, softly, hoping that he’d quickly come to terms with someone suddenly being in his house. A second quickly vanished as she felt his arms wrap themselves around her, the warm kiss appearing against her lips from the darkness. Lifting her she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting his warmth embrace her, as the kisses became deeper, tasting her, ensuring that any doubt moved from her thoughts. 

The last lingering murmurs fell from her mind, the previous messages he’d sent fading into the past. The long nights alone, those days glancing across the room, wondering what he’d be like, how he’d feel, were about to end. Finally. She’d been brave, she’d been bold, she’d finally become the woman that took a chance. She’d smile, if he’d give her lips a chance to do something other than kiss, but the smiling could come later. Right now, it was time to feel free. It was time to commit the crime of letting go.

Friday, 16 February 2018


The rhythm played, from the background, with a rhyme that started to make my very bones get up to dance. The sublime message, lost in the foreign words of another design, echoed around my skull, tempting, asking me, demanding me, to move from the chair at once.

It wasn't going to happen, I knew this, everyone knew this, as I always tried to hold my composure in the steady hand of control. I’d be commissioned, infiltrated, conditioned to be the way I am over the years despite wanting to truly break these self imposed chains.

I saw you, without making it obvious, the moment you walked into the room. You’re there, somewhere within the small crowd, focused on getting your chosen drink of the moment while I, of course, remain static. Defined, refined, dressed to impress but still ever so relaxed. There is, of course, a game to play and the rules were yet to be defined by your eyes.

The heat in the room, building with each second, threatened to break that cool stance with each passing moment but, as always, that regulated view remained as you appeared through the crowd. Locking eyes, for the briefest second, until the very next moment you divert that gaze away to the side. This is the game, the way things are to be played then that’s fine. Two, as has been said, can play any type of game that you’d like to define. You might hold the cards but I know this deck like the back of my own imagination.

From nowhere you appear right in front of me, daring me, braving your own confidence as you let the music take hold of your soul. With each beat, a new word, you start to express yourself by moving those hips of yours. Sexy, damn seductive, I almost break into a small smile but hold a card close to my chest. The legs on display, your legs, move with such ease to the beat within this room. I’d do anything to just break my pattern of action, to reach out, to caress, but that wouldn't be gentleman like. One must be invited to the party, to play in this type of ground, before making such a move.

Taking a sip of your drink, while looking over your sunglasses, into my very soul, you’re expelling the kind of confidence that’s making the people behind me turn to silence. You know that you have what it takes, every single ounce of woman within you ready to tempt, or is it that you simply don’t give a f**k about anything other than what’s directly in front of you. I don’t know but, what I do know, is that I cannot, no longer sit here watching you move the way you do.

Slowly, knowing exactly what move to make, I finally move from my seat, standing to attention, joining you within that dance that you’re showing. You really can move, making me wonder if it’s your body moving or your very soul controlling events. I know that you've a heart made of pure beauty but, when the dance is done, I still don’t know where you find the place that makes you do the things you do. Each move, each word, is pure temptation. Scolding, hot, temperature rising, almost cruel and sexy aura flowing over me. It’s difficult. It’s damn tempting.

We both start to move, finding a couple of seconds to gather the pace, that rhythm, both bodies moving in unison, union, the unique meeting of minds through the movements. From nowhere time starts to slow, the music fading into the background, as there’s only you and I in this room right now. Everything has faded, been erased, with the inches moving to millimetres between us. Never touching, never meeting, as this is what it’s all about. Tease, the temptation, the tantalising meeting of two people that know the wild events that will eventually arise.

Time slowed, the fever rising, the movements becoming smoother between the both of us as our bodies finally touch and my hand moves slowly around your side. My hand holds your back, ever so lightly pressing your body closer to mine, finally, at last, we've reached that level of awareness. Lips lock, press against each other, as your hand finds the back of my head, feeling, touching, expressing that desire that’s been building for the past few weeks. It had to happen, we knew it would, with tonight being that night where things finally move forward. You know, I know, we all know, that this dance better last all night. 

Thursday, 15 February 2018


Sitting here, alone, with soft music playing in the background, the thoughts flow into my mind. I know that it was such a long time ago, years even, but you've stayed with me in many, many ways. There’s those seconds, where I'm caught off guard, where I recall missing you so much that I could literally curl into a ball and stop. Just… stop. It didn't matter what I was doing, at those moments, the small amount of emotion becoming something bigger, clouding me, controlling me, into a state that I don’t really miss. Although, like an old friend that you haven’t missed at all, those feelings are still a companion, part of me, left from that part of you.

I'm not one to pretend, unless I'm of course, acting, in some sort of play, with words created on a page in order to portray something A to this kind of B. But that’s what I had to do, at first, act. ‘It’s okay,’ I’d state, over and over again, until I actually believed everything that I’d written on that page in my mind. It is, after all this time, obviously okay, but not back then. There’s certain aspects that you simply cannot exclude. The way you moved, the things you said, the way that you said them and those eyes of yours. I've never heard my heart beat that much, so intense, with each breath from your lips, against my skin, I’d beat, slowing or speeding to your rhythm.

It’s one of those moments, where you can literally finish each other’s sentences. It’s alive, something more, something created between the both of you, seldom re-created but always leaving the two feeling alone when apart. Although I'm sitting here, alone, I still have the memories, created, re-created, but in a friendly way. I recall the laughter. The kisses. The moments.

Resting back into the comfortable chair, I realise that it simply wasn't to be. The chance of a million to one meeting, the magical dream of finding that mate from the souls surrounding us each day, is a difficult task at best. We fit, we meld. We become something new and, sometimes, for a time, it’s ever so perfect. But, as we’re now aware after many years, things seldom stay perfect. I truly believe that it is possible, it’s not a dream at all, to be happy for a lifetime. We just have to fight to remove that baggage that life throws at us. Don’t keep it, don’t carry it forward, let it go and try to be free.

If I speak about that time, those days, I can happily proclaim that I'm over it all, I'm past passing that event in my mind. It’s perfectly okay but, if I close my eyes, to remember your whispering thoughts, how close we were, the feel of your skin against mine, I start to melt. The defences fall, the masculine stance fails, the closeness appears and suddenly I'm not over those moments at all.

It can make me sad, it can make me smile, it appears to haunt yet it all comforts me. It’s life, it’s understanding, it’s the adventure of things. When I'm 86, no matter who or where I'm with, I’ll always smile no matter what’s been said, which thread I've indexed within my mind, because I’ll always return to the memory of you. 

I know that I have a space, within me, that’s missing, that vacant small void within my heart and soul, that will always be yours. I know that there’s been others, will be others, but you've taken that place with you, that small part within me, that you’ll always own. Maybe, one day, if we meet again, I’ll give you my address, the number of contact, to which you could send that part back to me. Send it back electronically, physically, to make me whole again.

On that day, if there ever is that day, I’ll smile and speak words of comfort, all the while knowing that I’d be searching for that look from your eyes. Until that day, the day of days, I’ll keep looking for something new, someone new, to possibly take that place that you held so very close to you.

Maybe, possibly, somehow, I’ll eventually stop this ‘missing’ feeling.

Friday, 2 February 2018


There’s only so many words I can use to exclaim, to explain my exorbitant ethos to the world. I'm caught within my own structured state of thinking, of being, yet knowingly desire a path towards something more. I need to experience, to escape, to evolve into a person of worth. I know that I'm a singular speck within 7.4 billion souls but, as I've been told and informed, I'm supposedly special.

Special, a star, a miracle of majesty and luck. What makes me special, when I'm surrounded by people that I respect, admire, some desire, with minds that might just create the next miracle within this world? I've known so many hearts, quite a few souls, with nearly all of them deserving of time, effort and love. Sure, as we all know, there are a couple, a few, a miniscule amount of people that have descended into darkness but there’s hope. There’s always hope until, that very final day, where a person no longer deserves respect, time, or even the life that they hold.

Decisions, recriminations however, thankfully, are not within my life curriculum vitae. I've been here, I've been somewhere over there, a bit to the left, a little to the right, with no actual political agenda that I’d like to share or, ever, even think about. I'm not a politician, I'm not a person of religion, despite having, at one time, two toes within different pots. I know all about that, as it’s shown me some of this, but sometimes it’s best to leave someone else’s instruction manual, from another time, perfectly alone.

But, after three paragraphs, I must return to the question at hand. Am I special? No, yes, maybe, not at all.  You see, to me, there is a black and white scenario to all of this. I do prefer the grey side of life, before committing to either side, as to judge just shouldn't enter our souls unless absolutely necessary. How dare I even attempt to judge another, let alone myself. So, again, what is my black and white solution to everything?  We’re either all special, each and every single one of us, or not even one of us deserves that word at all.

We’re born, supposedly with a blank slate, but not everyone is born the same size, the same height, bigger, smaller, longer or shorter, we’re an individual made from a code of genetics from two other people. That, in itself, is a miracle. We’re then fed, by self or by others, all of the information to form whom we become. One day, in the future, we eventually gain self awareness. Don’t ask me when, how, or if we all do, but it’s there. It’s crushing, to be such a young individual. Suddenly, from nowhere, you feel this amazing weight of life. Conform. Fit in. Or rebel and fit into the smaller group. Be bullied or bully. Exclude or excluded. All striving to be accepted, to be special and noticed.

Heck, we've all been there, in that great big room, filled with so many people yet deep inside, you feel the utter despair of loneliness. It eats at you, destroys you, with your face filled with acne along with other’s words of hatred. It’s an ugly, ugly time in our lives, despite many people still knowing such pain. A lucky few escape this chapter of life.

But, as always, back to the actual question. I know what I believe, the special quotation, but which side do I lean towards? It’s not so easy as I only have the information that I've been given by life. I’d like to state this, mention that, but as always, I'm torn.  There’s a fence and I'm sitting on that fence, knowing, smiling, realising that the only answer that actually matters is the following:

“Every single person, animal, organism, on this planet, is special. To think that the Human Race deserves the title of ‘special’ devalues us, belittles us, when we’re surrounded by such beauty all across this world. If anything we can actually place Humanity, due to World Wars, destruction, near the bottom of the list.”

We can be so much more. We could grow our souls to another level if, IF, we let go of our materialistic side. It’s too late for me. I know that there’s a message, a very special message, but it must start with the children.

Saturday, 27 January 2018


The first voice, my voice, escalates until it’s no longer a murmur, a hidden selection of words that have needed to be voiced for the longest time. I might be a single solitary individual, but I have feelings, I've known life and some of its intricacies. I'm aware as much as I can be.

The second voice joins, two in harmony, feeling the same rhythm, the same pause and reflection. We’re joined in the single mind of thinking. Together, forever, we can join to create a way of understanding, to ensure that we both, at all times, respect each other and push the message towards a better day.

The third and fourth voice connects, becoming more, the signal amplified to another level. We’re a conscious mind, we’re a collective, a force swirling in the silence of other’s thoughts. We’re now moving forward, we’re never retreating, the direction becoming clearer each and every single second that we chant the words required to become a better place. We’re people, we’re living, breathing, individuals but as said, we’re more, we’re that place we've been searching for.

The six become twelve, a veritable chorus, a cacophony, a melody that needs work, needing to find the final chord to ensure that the feeling appeals to all. We’re heading in the right direction, a couple of voices of dissent, soon understanding the message, joining with the epicureanism living lifestyle of the few.  The more, the sooner, the quicker that we reach that level that cannot be surpassed.

The fiftieth individual reaches the moment of transition, where they no longer have the ideals of the few as, instead, they embrace the knowing of the many. We’re fighting the lies, the corruption of life, trying as best we can to see a clearer path within this wild world of ours. We’re fighting, not just our own beliefs, we’re fighting years of ingrained training, the marketing abuse of lies and re-direction. The more, the stronger, the nearer we become to understanding what needs to happen.

The hundredth soul, the hundredth spark, the life force and union of all things, breaches the known to embrace the freedom of choice. We’re growing, we’re sounding our way into the night filled day. There’s no way to stop the sound, the song, the words of harmony descending into all the lives around us. We’re not fanatical, we’re not flying within the clouds, we’re realistic, we’re instruments of thought, we’re playing live within the acted world of life. We’re here, now, waiting and remembering.

The thousand becomes a million. There’s no longer any army, in any land of this world, that can stop a united message. We've seen through the lies, the corruption, and we've noticed that there could be a brand new day in front of us. We’re singing, we’re lifting our souls into the air, finally allowing ourselves to fly after being grounded for so long. We can fly, we can sour, as we’re now free with no voices ready to spread dissent into our lives. The truth is out there, the path is as clear as the sun within our shining lives.  We've tasted freedom, from the life inherited.

We, finally, have a melody worth singing. Together, for the rest of our lives, nothing can stop a million voices exclaiming a better way. Today, tomorrow, the world will become 7.4 million voices. Free. The melody of life has found you. It’s found me. Let’s all sing together.

Thursday, 25 January 2018


Entangled, woven, completely integrated into the surroundings of my current situation, I’d like to escape but I cannot. When you slow time, when you relax and just view your life, you can usually start to see the cracks of time, glossed over by vanity, excuses and the knowledge of age. We don’t have to face everything, we can ignore everyone, all the while gasping to escape the wicked web we weave with our actions.

Entangled, trapped, freely giving in to the circumstances of life. We say a word here, do something over there, seemingly oblivious to the obvious repercussions of our actions. We’re a living, breathing, torrent of turmoil and angst trying to remain calm in the face of our own ideals burning into flames right in front of our eyes. It’s easy to stay as simple as the sun that shines in the sky yet, knowingly, complicating things with but the flick of a key or the start of a message.

Entangled, static, finding comfort in the ever agony of each step into the wilderness. We’re wild, we’re uncontrollably falling through the very thoughts of perfection, while struggling to even like the face that we see each and every single morning. We’re engrossed in becoming the beauty that’s already within the very skin we wear.

Entangled, embroiled, ensnared to the vacuum of whispers. We know who we are, we know from whence we came, who held our hands to guide us at an early age, yet, find fault with wisdom and the very common sense that could see us through to a new dawn. The light hurts, the darkness caresses, those said whispers asking us to commit more self-fraud until there’s hardly the person you were, remaining.

Entangled, procrastinating, saying one thing while doing another. We seek selfish comfort from others, feeling them against us, touching us, all the while feeding our own desires. The white lies, the floating promises, asking and wishing for others to play a role within the mind filled fantasies of selfishness. It feels alive, it feels full of energy, sparking our hearts into life while also strangling our moral and ethic knowledge. We know, we realise, we even chastise ourselves but, nevertheless, continue anyway.

Entangled, selfish, the sins of the few becoming the sins of the world. What was once neglect now becomes fashion, our faith, our very ideals marketed to us like the very cattle we consume each and every single day. We’re products, we’re barely alive, marching slowly forward until the day we finally realise that it’s far too late. This wicked mess that we create, the copy of the letter A until we reach B, only occasionally realising that there might just be a C and D. 

Entangled, forbidden, knowingly acknowledging that we’re defined by sociologically prescribed outlines, we’re suffocating with a smile. We know that we could branch forward, to become something more, something better if desired, yet still slide between the guidelines of how our lives are meant to be. We've an abundance of energy, we've ideals and ideas that could enlighten the air we consume each and every minute, which must be believed despite what we’re told. We’re fed the design of life from the second we speak, from the moment we realise, yet by that point it’s far, far too late. We’re entangled, we’re snared by our very actions to be interweaved into society.

One day, even if for the briefest of moments, we might just escape the entangled web of life.

Tuesday, 9 January 2018


The rain, moving, hitting the ground at speed, fulfilling its intended purpose, strikes my face and body with near certainty. I know that there’s something wrong, something that I'm not quite aware of, but I'm not one to pry into another’s affairs. They say that everybody cries, everyone finds a place to create their own rain like tears, but for me, for now, I'm not one of those people.

The heart pours, the heart feels, the heart needs more than what the mind can provide. It needs to be cleansed, adored, loved without question or remorse. I know that everything can change, with or without the world wrapped around us, but if I could take some of this rain, from this place I inhabit within my own heart, I would wash away all of your sins, your reservations about my own heart, the words that I often use to instil life.

You, just you, will always be a part of me. You’re like the air that I need to survive, calming, soothing, flowing over me until I can no longer feel anything other than relaxed. That is why, right now, I'm at a loss of what to do. No-one should ever be lonely, that crippling disease known to many, if not all, which is why I want to walk with you. For the longest time. For the shortest time. It makes no difference. As I said, as I know, as it is written, I know that something’s wrong. I'm not a black shadow that only sees what I want to see, as I'm supposed to be a light, that beacon you can find to get you home. If you so choose.

The rain hits harder as the seconds move forward. I’d hardly call my walk brisk, with the seconds moving along, as my snail like thoughts are destroying that needed motivation. I've seen things, been within things, known hatred, had disgust thrown in my face, but none of that matters as that’s to do with me. I know that I'm not a shield in this world, designated to protecting everyone, which I accept but that still doesn't mean that I shouldn't at least try.

If I could walk away, into the dark distance in front of me, I honestly would. That would be easy, a quick solution, but where in the world would that leave your impression of me. If I'm to walk around this world then please, at least, come with me. Hold my hand, hold my heart, hold my body or even hold my words of tenderness. It’s your choice. I need nothing from you, despite what I said, as I'm contained within myself. It’s a cruel place I live within, when I think about some of my decisions, but it’s kept me safe, kept me aware, which I've come to terms with. A smile erases everything but, that smile, is only worth the actual feelings behind those muscles you force to move.

The rain doesn't seem to be stopping, threatening to engulf each of my steps. Please, help yourself, as I cannot walk forever surrounded by tears and silent words. Open yourself, be brave, grasp at the thoughts in front of you, let me be what I can be and then gain strength. Hiding, within that silence, only reaches the level of being crushed. For once, for the moment right now, stop your rain falling into my life.

The rain, moving, hitting the imaginary scene at speed, creating nothing but strife. I know that there’s something wrong, something that I'm aware of, but I am about to pry into your affairs. They say that everybody cries, everyone finds a place to create their own nightmare, but for me, I'm not about to become one of those people for someone else.

Rain does seem to feature a lot in my Blog posts.

Thursday, 4 January 2018


Her smile entered the room as the door slammed shut. A little, undisciplined smile, appeared across my face before I commanded it to disappear. I know what I'm good at, I know what you need, which is why I knew to let that little smile appear. You’re you, seductive, sexually vibrant, aware, with such a cute smile hiding whatever thoughts that roam within that mind of yours. Of course, it took someone to bring this out of you, someone that understood what your mind wanted to say, someone just like me.

Dressed to impress, my eyes roaming across everything you have, I notice that you’re wearing my favourite outfit and shoes. Not too naughty, a lot of fun, with just the right amount of tease to bring all of my thoughts to the front of my fingertips. I'm not saying that I'm an unscrupulous person but, yeah, that’s what I'm saying.

Unprincipled, promiscuous, thinking and doing all of those things your Mother warned you about. Life is short, with most moments event shorter, so I need to know that you’re on the same wavelength. “Hey you,” you say with those red lips of yours, knowing exactly what and where those lips should be. You’re showing some skin, as usual, those legs of yours, being all smooth and tempting. I don’t want to lick my lips, as my wishful tongue is best suited to other tasks, but I do so anyway. Hungry, eager, in all matters of you.

As you come closer, close enough to breath you into me, your hot breath exhales the obvious desire and need. You whisper softly that you’re all mine, for the next few hours, but is that really ever enough? If you play with me then that’s all you’ll get. If you play with my mind then I’ll insist on the tease lasting for days, weeks, all the nights, until we can’t take another step. I've been aching, to be near you, for the longest time, needing more than the words on your lips or page. The tension, the need, to write my name all over you again and again. There’s no principle worth upholding when you’re this close.

You know that I'm devious, almost corrupt, but if that’s what it takes to reach the heights of life, with you, then that’s where I'm heading. You kick off your high heels, with flats hardly being suitable for an entrance like yours, trying your best to look innocent. You know why you’re here, as my arm moves around your waist, bringing you as close as possible, making sure that you’re ready for the thirst ridden kiss that embraces the both of us. Soft lips, the soft skin pressing against mine, moving together with ease, erupts and then all hell breaks loose. Lifting you onto the side table you open your legs as I place myself between them. You squeeze around me, pulling me in, closer than I thought imaginable. The kisses coming quick and fast, heat rising as I manage to get my top off.

With one hand I wrap my fingers around a section of your blouse, brushing against your breasts. I then make sure to grasp the bra underneath and with one quick movement, while you lift your arms, your top and bra are removed only to be thrown across the room. It must have hurt, just a little, but that’s okay as I’ll kiss it better for you. My lips move to your neck as I glancingly brush your chest. The absolute hunger envelops the both of us. Biting my neck, as I move my lips to kiss between your breasts, I stop. For a moment, taking in the second of mild painful pleasure, I bring my eyes to yours, smiling, possibly trying to see into your hunger, maybe your thoughts, but either way that doesn't last for long as I, in return, bite your shoulder.

Pushing me away, hopping from the side table, un-zipping your short skirt, you lift your leg and push me onto the bed. I, however, have other plans. I grab that leg of yours, running my hand up the underside while softly using the tip of my tongue along the top. You stop me as I reach the end of your leg which, of course, only makes me want you more. With both of us smiling, feeling the adrenaline rushing we again feel each other’s lipstick stained lips. Breathing becoming shallow, a different kind of heat, wanton, a needing exhalation, grasping to breath each other’s desire into ourselves. 

If I could bath in your beauty, if I could grasp that part of your mind that wants me, I’d surely wrap myself around you and never let go. There’ s sex, there’s desire, then there’s you. I don’t want to touch if it doesn't feel real. Yeah, she knows, that I don’t normally give a flying f*** for most things, but once connected, I'm going all the way again and again and again.  You are, more importantly, invited along for every, single, ride.

Then… .

Wednesday, 3 January 2018


Biting my lip, figuratively, I relax into the chair listening like an obedient slave. I want to answer back, I don’t want to play the game, but I have a place and I'm being put there. It’s strikingly annoying, it’s maddingly obvious, but what else can I do.

If I had a life, with everything in the appropriate place, all lines crossed, I’d gladly rise from this chair and question everything. I want to fight, to find freedom, but that’s not the path that I'm taking. I'm forsaking that type of direction in favour of simply letting it all happen. I'm hardly a coward, not usually one to stand back, but this is the way my world seems to be.

My knuckles tense as my fingers grasp the sides of the chair, showing a slight crack in my resolve. I, however, smile, placate the situation, nod my head like a good boy and say the words that need to be said. I play that game, I tell my wounds to shut up and to hide away. It’s not the time, it’s not ‘that’ time just yet but, the ever present question isn't if, it’s when. When will I finally shout, “Enough!” To the world, to everyone that does and doesn't count?  Not today, not tomorrow, not next week and probably, maybe, never.

I'm waiting, we’re waiting, they’re waiting, along with the world, for something, somewhere, to change. We’re static, accepting, subservient to the way life has set our course. That thought, those words alone, fill me with fear. I'm flying, two inches from the ground, with a rope around my arms ensuring that I'm only destined to travel on the intended path. Don’t deviate, don’t dare make a suggestion, as that’s not allowed in this world. Play nice, be nice, be rewarded and have everything taken from us day in, day out. But, saying that, I realise that I'm damn lucky to have what I have. Truth be told that fact cannot be denied.

The nod is given, the final words spoken, which means that I'm allowed to leave the room. I've been guided, directed, the steel bars placed around my wrists ensuring that I'm still stuck within the world I inhabit. I could run, I could remove all bonds and strive into the world becoming free, but our world isn't designed that way. We’re financially buried, burdened, enticed to buy more and more, ever shackled to the very place we despise.  To truly be free we’d have to forsake so much, so many things, in order to finally feel that freedom.

It’s disgusting, it’s making me bitter, twisting my insides into something I've never intended to be but, this is what is. I'm not going to fight it. I can’t. Instead, as the eyes divert their gaze away from me, sedated to my working mind, I’ll play, I’ll scrape, I’ll work my way free into the world again. I'm not stupid, supposedly an intelligent persona, which means that I’ll bide that time. We all have plans, most wanting different things, which means that today, tomorrow, next year, is when we make our move. I don’t feel that frustrated, trapped into desperation, as I know that I ultimately have a choice.

For now, I’ll walk along this corridor, slowly, methodically, planning, realising, that I'm not truly controlled, as my plan is to simply acquiesce to everything. That, after all, means that I'm never, ever, truly under another’s power.

Stay free!