life's a kick

Oh! Lord of Good Times where in the fucking hell art thou weren't you the cursed one to say "you shall reap, as you sow" Come out of hiding, you wretched thing grinning behind the curtain of time have you, I will, despite your chicanery owe you no prayer, no word sublime. Keep trying you may, to break my soul even resent being born on this earth hone your tools, train your devils I leave it to none, to measure my worth. Should you mistake, my graceful silence as a licence to gloat and thrill remember I'm a fighter, peaceful at best at my worst, I enjoy the kill. So come, unleash, bare it all, go to your ugliest extreme I will scatter, and I will gather and the good of me, will reign Supreme.

27 years ago, he sat her on his laps, turned her face to his, looked into her eyes and told her – she was his god. He loved her, above everyone else, and would do that for all his life. She absorbed each word, squeezing in the last drop of its meaning. And why wouldn’t she? If the decades didn’t change her feelings, his importance in her life…why should she assume that his too was a statement in exaggeration? Just another flight of romance? After all, men had come and gone before and after him, but he alone had stuck. While others had admired her, loved and pampered her, he WORSHIPPED her. Spoiled her mad. Really, she could put the entire world on one side and him on the other. And the balance would still tip towards him. He gave her more than everybody else put together. Much much more – care, love, attention, appreciation, inspiration, evaluation – so much that she had been full and fulfilled ever since. It would have appeared strange to a third eye, that she never ...

I am your Blank. Fill it as you like. Let it lie vacant, unnamed, undefined. Let it be shapeless… a formless wealth of exhilarating love. A kennel, a cave, a house, a desert, a moonless night, a moonlit park, an endless ocean, a cranny of a nest – anywhere, anything. Vacant, not void. Wear the feathers of freedom, and without flying beyond your sky of responsibilities, step out from that threshold of societal propriety. Make an exception and let us remain fluid. Let the sea of our souls fill the blanks as and how it desires. There’s no need to mould its shape or to carve out its path. These waters of understanding know well what to leave untouched. That blank space of what I will be to you and you to me… subsumes more than what can ever be conveyed in words. It is that area of bright white light, an eternal source of it. Convert that energy into whichever form you like. Pick out any strand of colour, bathe in it or just revel in its sight. Be the richest – choose to d...