The shared bliss of our pure and energetic connection,
A feeling of utter trust and sublime spiritual perfection,
Our souls united in our destinies new chosen direction,
The inquisitive and definitive pursuit of this soul affection.

United we stand upon the mountains uppermost peak,
Connected to the divinity of the inner energies so unique,
Desiring the achievement of the ambitions we seek,
And the becoming of a soul, spirit and self so complete.

Tubby in the calving throes
breaking free and clear
shepherding, milking, and honing
rambunctious as bovine bris
versus being stymied courtesy
cow - wordly bull aiming writer's block
for drought of creativity.

The bins of Old London are fattened and gorged
Gulping down gadgets and cracked plastic toys,
Gagging on curry, tofu and toast,
Somebody’s rubbish and somebody’s joy,
Grandpa’s teeth and mothers’ pink socks,
All bunged in the bins of old London.

But foxes feed here, and squirrels swing by,
So do the homeless and thrifty.
What is worthless to you
Is worth more than jewels
To the hungry and poor of Old London.

Clouds
White,dark. puffy
Streaming through the sky
Will it rain or will it be dry
Mists

As I roast and I toast
I’m most proud to be host
To those, who make me glow
As they eat and warm up their toes

Be it a friend or a foe
As I glow and I show
My display I can certainly say
Soon, is end of my days

Although right now I thrive
They won’t keep me alive
They’ll pack up and go back inside
And leave me to shrink as I die

And yet with sparks that I spit
I don’t scorn those who sit
I’m still pleased that I’ve lived
I say thank you to them: I’ve been lit

I start out
From the valley deep,
Starting an adventure
That has been long awaited.
It is a pilgrimage,
Of sorts.
I make my way,
Along the wooded trail.
Flat at first,
As it wanders along,
Out of the valley floor.
I walk along,
Deep in thought,
Of the life I have lived.
The woods get thicker
and slightly more oppressive
And the sun is blocked out
As the trail climbs,
And I go higher.
Roots and rocks
Line my path.
I watch my footing,
So not to stumble.

In my head, it rings soundly,
Playing on and on, growing, gaining flesh,
I hear it calls, jingling its bells loudly,
Time drives, struggling, fondling through intricate stench,
Calling slowly, to appear on the hands of now,
When it comes, how will we do?

Sunday,holy day
Day for reflection and hope
Time to review life

Expanse of green acres draped
like a petticoat when ye arrive
birds of a feather flock together
and bees gather collect nectar,
pollen, and water to bolster their hive
verdant vista sports
spot for wildlife to thrive
such as; whitetail deer, red fox,
Easter bunnies, garter snakes.

The magics of the will imprinting upon your personal aura,
With the pineal gland transferring its shapes into your brain,
And dynamic minds essence corrupting not becoming purer,
Leading an individual's enlightenment to then become insane.

As I focus my thoughts into their densities they condense,
And my patterns of consciousness become a part of yours,
The weight of your actions consequences now so immense,
I Influence your freedom and nature through sacred laws.