Protecting the Heart

Protecting the Heart
Form: Epistle
Theme: Self-Healing

What is the loving heart
but a thing to be shattered and broken
to be used and abused
and left tattered by words unspoken
the cruel annoyance of desire
the nuisance that turns the eyes blind
in its raging battle to overpower
the quiet sensible thoughts of the mind
sensible thoughts shutting feelings down
shielding the heart in its desperate plight
with a shy voice, softly spoken
as the quiet introvert bids the pain good night


Life Lesson

Life Lesson
Form: Epistle

In nearly 57 circuits of the sun, I have had many life lessons come my way. Choosing one that is more important than any other is impossible as they have all been vital in my growth and development into the person I am now.

A life lesson is a teaching not to make that mistake again. They are also helpful in learning who we really are and understanding ourselves better. Life lessons are the hard reality of consequences from action and without those consequences, we don’t learn putting our hands in the fire is a bad idea. They are things we learn the hard way and always too late to prevent the hurt of learning them

If I must choose one thing, I have learned the hard way this year then I have to say it is learning and accepting it is okay to be me, to live my life my way, and follow my own beliefs. Society is judgemental and people like to judge others. That social pressure pushed me off my own path into something that was totally wrong for me and caused a major problem with my mental health. To my chagrin, I knew it was happening but stubbornly refused to do anything about it until my mental health collapsed.

By putting someone else’s aspirations, dreams, and goals before my own I left myself nothing to hold onto, an existence without living. Over 2022 I have done something about it and the hard lesson has been taken on board. Never again will I let someone else influence my vision of life. This is my path and I decide where it takes me


Questioning Forgiveness

Questioning Forgiveness
Form: Epistle

It is far easier to forgive other people, to let them off the hook, and take the blame for their actions onto myself. They can’t help it; they don’t mean to – too often I hear myself saying or thinking that. In some ways, it makes forgiving others quite self-destructive and that can be problematic

Forgiveness shouldn’t be about letting someone get away with what they do wrong. However, all too often that is exactly what it means. They want forgiveness so they can shift the blame and consequences onto others and feel better about themselves. Is that what forgiveness is?

And there lies the problem for me. Sure, I can forgive someone for what they do to me so they feel okay and let me take the blame for their actions as normally they will say it’s my fault anyway. It probably is in as much I let that person get close enough to make me care about what they do or say to me.

The art of forgiving self is so much harder because I judge myself harsher than anyone else ever will. That is not surprising given the inner critic will always be the unkindest critic there is. Somehow, I must find a way of letting it go when I feel I am beyond my own redemption and that really is about self-acceptance, accepting my faults, accepting my weaknesses, and being okay with that. Sometimes it is also accepting that someone else could help it and did mean it. And it is not my fault they are an asshole.


Yesterday Is Done

Yesterday Is Done
Form: Epistle in Haiku

new dewdrops shimmer
like diamonds on a green baize
gentle tears the night wept
comforting music
welcomes the first light of day
blackbird is awake
morning is breaking
shimmering on spider's silk
the jewels of dawn
a new day begun
another chance to do what’s best
yesterday is done


Matter of Survival

Matter of Survival
Form: Epistle
Theme: A Self-Healing Journey

As a Celtic Pagan the old year is ending
and new year is about to begin
it seems more than a little apt that my self-healing journey
is at an evaluation point
so the first half of the year was hideous
with my mental health shot
and my emotional state a complete car crash
the impact of three years of negative toxicity
was taking its toll that’s for sure
so moving quickly past that shit
and sitting with a fabulous therapist
a lovely guy who put me into a self- healing course
which I thought would be a complete waste of time
but I was used to wasting my time
and doing the worthless things I do by then
so went with it
it couldn’t get any worse
I am not ashamed to say I got that totally wrong
I’m not saying things got better instantly either
in fact to begin with they got worse
but it was digging among the scraps of myself
I found that one thing that was solid
that became a new foundation stone to rebuild me
I’m proud of how far I have come
and I know I still have a long way to go
so instead of a beginning, the new year is a continuation
because this year I know I am worth it


Hitting Reset

Hitting Reset
Form: Epistle
Theme: A Self-Healing Journey

Regaining love for self is not an easy task
it is an uphill challenge
with progress often followed by a falling back
because to love self is to acknowledge
I am human with human frailties
and vulnerabilities
with innate yearnings
of natural wants and needs
wants and needs that often make the heart lose sight
of boundaries I need to protect myself
boundaries that remind me
not everybody is deserving of being close to me
holding my hand
touching my soul
and reaping the benefits of my loving
and those boundaries are also there
to allow myself to be deserving of my love


Saying Thanks

Saying Thanks
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

When I first saw the question on being grateful to self
my initial thoughts are that’s a bit dumb
yet I don’t think twice when saying thank you
when someone does me a favour or offering thanks
to the universe when life is going right
or if life is crap for pulling me through
but through these introspective self-healing prompts
I have learned to say sorry to myself
and that really sounded like a dumb idea
but it works in allowing me to move forward
by acknowledging my fuck-ups, putting them right or
stepping away from them
and if someone did that for me I wouldn’t think about it
I would simply say thank you, so perhaps
saying it to me when I do it makes sense
so for awhile now I have been practicing
and I started with something simple – a cup of tea
because I always say thank you if someone makes me a brew
the result has been I find I am more aware
of being allowed to stop and pause for a cuppa
anyone who knows me knows I can be a tad ceremonious about tea
and by acknowledging my gratitude to me
I am finding I get my teapot out
making my tea how I like it
instead of the quick rush job of a teabag in a mug
which I hate to the point I don’t enjoy it
it’s giving me time to do something for me
permission to enjoy my brew
to pause in the chaos of life
and let it all be
and I should be grateful for that


Who Am I to Judge?

Who Am I to Judge?
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

After years of being made to feel not good enough
it has become second nature to judge myself as not good enough
not the best mind set for building confidence
or a sense of self-worth really
and I can’t jut say it is what it is about that
this is currently a work in progress
which started with letting go of what other people think
and I am now very aware developing that
I don’t give a fuck thinking
was the easy bit
even though it felt alien to begin with
once I started asking my self why I needed validation
from someone who clearly couldn’t give a fuck about me
their self-obsessed approval was never going to happen
and I realised I didn’t need that approval
and letting that go which I thought would be hard
in the end it was easy
the more I let go
the more I felt myself growing
the more I felt myself worthy of me
and now I am learning to approve of me
who I am
what I do
how I think
it doesn’t matter one fucking bit what others say
it has to be me who says I’m good enough for me
and that is hard



Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

Gratitude is a powerful thing
and it is difficult to know where to start with gratitude towards self
what are the aspects of me I am grateful to have
in times of low self-esteem it’s even more difficult
reliance then falls to those core aspects
aspects that nothing and no one can knock off kilter
for me that is my spirituality
that spiritual path that I know I should be walking
and when I am not I know I need to get back on it
whatever it takes I need to regain my footing
and get back on it
and I am grateful I know how to do that
the ability to isolate myself so I can look at my life
look at the ways I am going wrong
try and find solutions or if not
eradicate them completely as they are not for me
and I am grateful that at these times I can find the strength and wherewithal
to make decisions and take actions needed
even if they hurt me and sometimes others
simple fact
if something is wrong it is wrong
that needs sorting
and I should be grateful I can do that


Forgiving Self

Forgiving Self
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

To myself I write
before the dark thoughts claim my mind –
again –
and they will
they always do
but each time I am more ready
a little bit more aware
and a little bit more forgiving
towards myself
if not towards others
for I am learning forgiveness starts with self
and not someone else
so I forgive myself
for those times I let my self-esteem fall
for those times I forget I am worthy of love
even the love from myself
I forgive myself
for choosing the situations that make me feel less
because I believe I am less
someone else doesn’t do that to me unless I let them
and for letting them
I forgive myself
but I will never forgive them
no more will I pretend they didn’t mean it
as I know perfectly well that they did
and I forgive me for knowing it
it is in my own forgiveness I release me
to find my worth and identity
free myself to love me for who I am
and that to forgive them lessens me
which reminds me
no one is worthy of that


More Than That

More Than That
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

Just like everyone else
l have negative points like
the things I can’t or won’t do
yet feel I have to just
because someone else wants that
because they say I have to make them happy
because if I don’t it breaks their dreams
because if I love them I will
so what if by doing these things
the negative impact on me is not good
or worse it is degrading my own self opinion
it is soul-destroying
and devalues my self-worth
is that worth their happiness
no it bloody isn’t
I believe I am worth more than that
because I am not a happiness toy
performing for someone else’s satisfaction
if I need to do that because I love them
then damn they see me as less than nothing
and I am worth more than that
and if they had any love for me at all
they wouldn’t ask for it
so to prove my love
is accepting I am unloved
and there is where it all goes wrong
and again I say
I am worth more than that


Red Flags

Red Flags
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

Rose-tinted lenses
disguising red flags
yet they were there all along
there to be seen
there as a warning
yet went by unheeded
logic denied by stubbornness
stubbornness knowing better than reality
we can work it out
iron out the creases
pretentions of they don’t exist
my mind is seeing it all wrong
and I’m strong enough to live with it
strong enough to make it all okay
strong enough to destroy my own thinking
let my mental health dwell in destruction
it will heal again quick enough
enough to keep going
enough to take the chances
a chance against all the odds
the price of love
cheap at half the price
paid in full
only self-loathing and depression as small change
cheap at half the price
self-esteem left shattered on the floor
in the dawning realization
that this love just ain’t worth it



Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

In my teens and 20s I wanted to fit in
wanted to be normal
and I didn’t want the labels
still don’t want the labels
but now I know they have their uses
Wanting some sort of normality
a reality that really wasn’t mine to have
but I wanted it
so in effect was comparing myself to the stereotype women
imitating their conversation
their desires and ambitions
and using them to bury myself deeper
pretending I couldn’t see that reflection
looking at me from the bathroom mirror
pretending I didn’t know one day
those cold piercing grey eyes wouldn’t win through
and I’d stare back blankly
shrugging what can I do
What can I do but nothing much
nothing much as in my 30s
love refused to be denied
as it gripped every sense in me
reading me deep beneath my skin
and accepting
understanding who I am
in its embrace of tranquillity
and in loving me
she taught me how to love me
understand and accept me
to feel safe in men’s jeans
and an oil-stained t-shirt
she brought him out of the shell
to be the strength I would need
when love fell asleep
in eternal rest
I lost that strength grieving
for the love that seemed out of reach
to never hold me again
and I forgot to love me
buried deep in the endless pain
endless tears
endless future of emptiness
had she taken me with her?
and perhaps I believe so
believing I should be me
stand tall in her love
once more safe in an old pair of jeans
watching rugby with a take-out curry
and I swear she took a swig of my beer
just as she always did
perhaps then
I am just a guy
and my love is hers for the keeping
just as it always was
and I am good with that


Cruel to Be Kind

Cruel to Be Kind
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey
Question: Where am I blocking my own love from myself?

When my self-esteem is struggling I am my own worst critic on everything, and I mean everything. From my writing to what colour underpants I am wearing if my self-esteem is being sucky then it is all wrong and not worthy of anything, let alone love.

I now know the urge to hit delete at every word, line, poem or story is a good warning shout something is askew with me. In most cases, it is just a dose of the blues and we all get those and the answer is simple – take some time out and do something else. In my case it’s often grabbing my rods and heading off for a bit of fishing.

But if it’s a long-term thing, and the bipolar spirals start happening and thus inviting the deep depressions and related self-loathing back in then it’s a bit of a problem. Something or someone is making me look negatively on myself, and I am not seeing it. I am, without being negative about it, not very good at seeing things like that as they happen, probably because I don’t want to see them. By the time I do see it, it’s too damn late and the damage is doing its work on me.

The only answer then is to withdraw, step back and take a long hard look at my life. It also means making some choices and taking a proverbial axe to cut out what is harming me. And harming is the correct word, as spirals, depression, and lack of self-worth are the direct cause of darker suicidal thinking.

It is something I have to be tough about, accept the hell it may cause, and the hurt. It means I have to be kind to me and give myself time to adjust and get over it. Cruel to be kind as it were. Taking back me and taking back control of my life more like. Cruel to just be says it better.


Turning It Around

Turning It Around
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey
Question: Where in my life do I have feelings of unworthiness for my own love?

After years of therapy, I know the self-hate comes from my youth and I think self-hate is saying I am unworthy of my own love, isn’t it? I am not going to apologize for the words I use as it is how I felt at the time.

Growing up in a time when being trans and gay were something to be, to put it politely, frowned upon I hated myself for being wrong. It’s not that I hated the inner man growing inside me, nor did I hate the outer woman, they didn’t feel right together and I hated that. It made me who I am wrong, and I really hated that.

Questioning gender and sexual identity during the puberty years made that self-hate so much worse. My body was doing the things I didn’t want it to do. I hated boobs growing, who in the hell wants to bleed once a month anyway, and did I mention I hated boobs, man I really hated them. So during that period of puberty, which at best is confusing, at worst a living hell, the self-hate took control. I learned the ways to deny reality, hide who I am, and hate myself privately and quietly. No one else needed to know I was a freak.

Self-hate has driven me to suicidal states more times than I want or care to remember. Self-hate not only makes for feelings of unworthiness of love but also unworthiness of life. It is not all doom and gloom. Gender transition was only the start of the process of healing that is still ongoing. It led to a therapist I could trust and who has helped me, bit by bit, turn a life around so it is a life I want to live. He has opened my eyes to the power of accepting self-love and being worthy of it. For that, I am forever grateful.

It has not been easy, nothing worth doing ever is. Sometimes the pain was more than I thought I could bear. Pretty much, the pain came from me thinking I could find another way when there wasn’t one, so in part was self-induced, it still bloody hurt though. However, the pain, the tears, the anger, and the sorrows have all been worth it. I am worthy of loving myself and of being who I am.

Bitch from Hell

Bitch from Hell
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

The question is what aspect of self did I find hard to love and that is easy to answer – it is the remaining streak of femininity. I am not talking about the stereotypical female likes here such as loving to cook
most of the top chefs are men
a love of flowers
I will just say Titchmarsh and Monty Don, even Percy Thrower – all men
it’s none of that
truth be told I can’t really put my finger on it
but I see it
I see it in my stubbornness
I see it in my self-determination
and I see it in my bad temper
and somehow I have got to love this bitch from hell
and I have come to do that
instead of seeing her influences as a negative aspect of self
surely, as with most negatives, there has to be balancing positives
and there is
without her stubbornness, I would give in
without her self-determination, I would have given up
and without her bad temper, I wouldn’t stand up for myself
all I would be is a doormat for others to walk on
and I wouldn’t have the balls to do what I need to do for myself
so yes I have come to love her
for she is my strength empowering me to do it my way, on my own
and that’s cool


Work In Prog

Work In Prog
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

‘You’re so brave’
‘You’re clever’
and various other random compliments including
‘I love you’.
Do I believe them when they are said at me
There are very few people I trust
enough to believe they mean it
when they pay me compliments.
There are a few
the same few people who are honest
enough to tell me when I am screwing up.
They are also the ones that
don’t load what they say with
how they want me to be because
they accept me as me
Learning to tell the difference
to see it before it is too late
that is a work in progress


What the Hell Was I Thinking

What the Hell Was I Thinking
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

Yet again I have let my self-confidence be torn apart trying to conform to ideologies that are not my own. I don’t even know why I do that, and I know it is the road to depressive cycles and ultradian trips doing that. The reality is with bipolar it is a self-destructive death wish to do that – and I bloody well know it.

Yet again this vacation into self-destruction and self-loathing is tied up with love. I let myself believe in love being possible, that someone loved me for me and not what they wanted me to be – wrong again, and I knew it. Like an idiot I didn’t stop it right there – no, I let the destruction of me begin.

I was ignoring my gut instincts which weren’t just whispering but screaming through my head that it was a bad idea. I really need to learn to trust them more as they have a horrible tendency of being spot-on. Indeed, they were nailing it. Instead of listening, I went with the old habit of burying myself behind a smile of conforming to an ideology I didn’t want, and in the process, my self-confidence faded into nothing.

So the depressive cycles started and I started to kid myself that I needed them to be creative, to do what I do. I know I don’t, I really know I don’t but I let myself believe that. Then the mental rollercoaster of ultradian and the highs to mega lows and destructive thinking and still I thought I could handle it. Being a stubborn git is not always a positive thing

This time fate dealt a wake-up call with some harsh life blows that have made me stop and think, and take time to look at life and where it was heading. Those blows hurt deep and still hurt deep, but despite that, I am grateful as I needed the boot up the ass. I was on the wrong path, I was losing everything, and worst of all, I was losing me. That had to stop and has stopped. Through grief and illness that forced me to rethink, I found my self-determination and inner strength.

It is time to rebuild, let go of everything that is not for me, and move on. I got this.


Now, What Do I Do?

Now, What Do I Do?
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-Healing Journey

Things happen and life changes and often times we don’t even notice but then something happens and it is dramatically life-changing. They leave me feeling ‘now what do I do?’.

I have learned these are the times I need to take time away from my life and look at it from a distance so to speak. Reassess and examine everything and what needs to be changed, is it possible to change it.

It is not a painless process, in my experience, I will say it is abject agony. Taking abstractions out of my life and looking at them with a clouded mind and tears in my eyes – no it is not painless. However, going through that pain shows me what is wrong and what needs to be changed or taken out completely.

It is a process I do alone and on my own, without talking it out with anyone. I am fully aware that these things are about me and therefore do not require external input. People who know me well will have seen my mental health deteriorating anyway, and know to back off when I go into introspective thinking. It doesn’t mean they don’t support me, they do, and I know that.

Despite being a painful experience, the aftermath of this thinking is often more painful as I let go of the things I thought I wanted in life and needed in life. That is hard and hurts like fuck, but ultimately I know it has to be done.

It is in these life-changing times that I know some doors are closing to me, and need to be closed and stay closed. There are new doors beginning to open and my life is changing and I have to go with it and find the metal to push through the new doors to whatever is waiting for me beyond.

My life is changing – I got this


The Beginning

The Beginning
Form: Epistle
Theme: The Self-healing journey

Hey JezzieG,

Just to let you know a few things I love about you, man. Yeah, there is probably more but your old fingers ain’t gonna take that much typing are they? And there is the first thing, that self-awareness in that you are getting older and simply accepting that with your usual sense of dry humour. Nobody else gets it but hey why should you care – that is their problem, let them deal with it.

And that leads, naturally, into another thing – your dislike of unnecessary drama and the divas that use it. I swear you have ‘Not my monkeys’ tattooed on the palm of your hand as you roll your eyes and walk away. I know that is an aspect of yourself that you won after a hard fight of feeling you should care just to fit in with other people’s ideals. No, mate, why the hell should you?

I love the fact you stand for your own identity and let other people have theirs. Live and let live, right? So many would deny you your right to be you, even saying being you denies them their identity. What utter rot! They don’t like what you are, there’s a one way door out of your life they can take and you are not afraid to tell them that.

I love your creativity. The way an idea just pops into your head and you make it something powerful, weird, wonderful, or just plain nuts. You see something in the every day world differently and it takes on a new life. Is that magic?

And it is the every day world of nature that fascinates you. I love the tranquillity of your soul as you sit by the stream, night or day, and just absorb the sounds and movements of nature, letting them mingle in your mind with your own thoughts until you are at one with the earth itself. It is there I believe you find that inner resilience to be distanced from others, especially those who have shown they are not worthy of your trust.

Now, JezzieG, I have shown you just how strong you are, mate. You got this, you deserve it, now go for it.

Your eternal twin spirit


Night Conversation

Night Conversation
Form: Epistle
Theme: Nature

The night will come
and when it comes
As another day ends
The darkness begins
Silent thoughts
Echo in contemplation
In conversations with the unknown
Slowly breathing reassurances
To the uncertainty of the night
As the moon rises
Asking what have you done today
And I talk softly
Of walking beneath the wild willow trees
Stepping into the streams of illusion
And as the waters washed over me
How her blessed waters cleansed my soul
Of yesterday’s confusion
And I whispered from darkness
To the lady of lunar light
I am lost no more


Reply to a Letter

Reply to a Letter
Form: Epistle

It seems so long ago I wrote a letter addressed
to the person
that used to be me
and it is
the date line 2011
and my eyes read it like a check list
a to do list of hopes and dreams
signed off in a cursive swirl
with the line ‘learn to love yourself because you are awesomely you’
and I thought about that
how often I say that to other people
but never to me
as if I don’t matter
and I am not worthy of love
and for best part of ten years I ignored my own advice
never quite believing the words ‘I love you’
were meant for me
even ignoring them when I heard them
with a casual ‘yeah right,’
while thinking ‘what piece of me do they want now’
and so it went on
never enough and draining too fast
until there was nothing left of me
just a shell of someone else’s what I should be
someone’s this
and someone’s that
drowning in the pool of my own tears
grieving for my identity
in the abyss of self-hate
trying to satisfy the demands of toxicity
ever demanding negativity
until I screamed I’m better than this
awakening that moment
that beautiful moment I fell in love with me
the me I know I should be
and it snowballed
all that was gripping me
holding me down
holding me back
began to fall away like it didn’t belong to me
and look back
it didn’t belong to me then
and it doesn’t belong to my future
no mournful good-bye
it is better this way
for my love belongs to me

JezzieG, it’s time to love yourself for the awesome you that you are


Ripples and Bubbles

Ripples and Bubbles
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Pebble beach

Sittin’ on the pebbles
just watching the sea
as each wave ripple and bubbles
against the stony shore
each one a little more distant as the tide goes out
and each wave carries the love I feel
and you
a little further away
a distant memory of I still love you
but I don’t want to go back
even though what we had was special
it is gone
rippled like the waves into memory
something that should never have been
when our dreams of tomorrow shared no common ideals
and it doesn’t matter anymore
as the sea reminds me
my dreams matter too
this pain of absence is real
and I still love you
and that is all I can do


Hey You

Hey You
Form: Epistle
Theme: Life Lesson
Subject: Note to self

Hey you
yes, you
the guy in the mirror
just a friendly reminder
it is okay to be you
what the hell are you doing
hiding away from life
wearing a mask for someone else’s convenience
as your heart shrivels
your passion for living dying
man, you need a kick up the ass
you matter
your feelings are real
and valid
what you feel is valid
what you are is valid
and no one has the right to take that from you
remember that
man, what are you doing
hiding your light so they are happy
man, don’t be a fool
stand up
walk out
and don’t look back
now belongs to you


Mist of Mystery

Mist of Mystery
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: The Forest

Deep in the forest
beyond the sunlight
where angels dare not go
he is dancing
in the wild frenzy of his passion
the scent of his sweat flowing
as he strips down
the steam from his flesh fills the air with musky mist
and he raises his arms
his hands open to the lunar light
he calls out her name
inviting her again and again
come, come my angel of the night
until she comes to stand before him
and as he turns she sees his face
the face of the beast
his eyes piercing with darkness
and his horns curling over his head
come, come my angel
come with me into the mist of mystery
and taking her hand he leads her
into the abyss of night
into her final rapture



Form: Epistle
Theme: Relevance
Subject: Breaking the rules

You look at me like I should never have left the womb
should I die so you don’t rage at my existence
so I stay home out of sight
out of mind
and as it bothers you so much I can be happy
instead of being miserable as I am
yes I break the rules of society
and what is socially acceptable
while following my own journey
my way
my path
living outside the box of normality
and does it bother you I accept life as it comes
good and bad
happy and sad
as I see the beauty in every day
does it bother you not being able to see life the same way
my heart is breaking in your inhumanity
does it bother you I come home to cry
does it bother you in making you feel special
entitled to be yourself
you made me irrelevant


Golden Moments

Golden Moments
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: A Pause

It’s not the big demonstrations
that make the magic happen
I really don’t need presents
to tell me how you feel
and I don’t need the words ‘I love you’
to tell me that is true
for it is not these things
that make my heartbeat pause
but the look in your eyes
and the sunlight in your hair
now that makes me stop and stare
it is the touch of your hand
when my thoughts overwhelm me
all those little things that can never be said
the little moments of silence
that can only be described as golden


Just Thinking Back

Just Thinking Back
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Visiting places

Going to places we’ve never been
feeding the lust to wander between
times long forgotten and where we are now
letting our dreams go into fantasy swirls
where golden apples adorn the orchard boughs
and the ruined castle stood proudly behind
its gate extended over the moat
leading us in to the majestic place
to dance to the plucked strings of lute
in the days when men were brave knights
and a lady dropped her linen favour
a challenge to earn her hand
in the merriment of love
seemingly chaste and pure
but with the quaffing of ale
did a knight take his lady
to his bed before they were wed?

all ways, always
your crazy-assed poet


Bow on String

Bow on String
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Quotation – The older the violin the sweeter the music

‘The older the violin the sweeter the music’….

… I’m not so sure about that. Sure it might be true for the fiddle
but does it relate to the human psyche
as age gathers are we sweetness personified
hell, no I am not unless demons are sugar-coated
sugar-coating the truth I don’t do
not even if it eases a kick in the butt
if you land on your ass I will pick you up
but no way will I stop you falling in the first place
you are free to make your own choices
and so what if I disagree
tis your ass, not mine
but I’ll pick you up
and won’t apologise for laughing as I do it
a demon has to have some fun, right?

All ways, always
Your crazy-assed poet xxx


The Pheasant

The Pheasant
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Canteen

You walk out in the forest glade at dawn
As scents of earth are drifting on the breeze
The breeze that carries dew for the new day
That barely glistens in the winter sun
Your feet that tread upon the threadbare leaves
The skeletal remains of autumn’s gold
A rustled step as my eyes catch a glimpse
I, the hunter, stalking silence draw near
With lowered gun for you are not my prey
Yet I watch you meander through the glade
And as the sun rises above the trees
With feathers kissed brightly with red and gold
The hunter sips water from a canteen
For in the forest where walks the fair maid
The only shot fired was of Cupid’s dart

Always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx


Twatwaffling on Love Again

Twatwaffling on Love Again
Form: Epistle

The purest aspect of the human condition is love, a gift of the moment in the here and now.

Here and now love is what matters,
here and now it is a real feeling
and here and now never ends. There is no yesterday, nor tomorrow, just today
today I love you in this present moment
yesterday I loved you, it is past, the moment has gone
yet I know today I love you, my love isn’t past, it isn’t gone
and what of tomorrow, well it never comes, there is always today
and today I love you and it’s always today

And what does love do?
Love is the power of understanding of being human,
the understanding of self
the understanding of another
the understanding that we only have today
and it is always today.

Love is the power of enlightenment within mortal existence
the enlightenment as we travel Mother Earth
the enlightenment reflecting on the path pf the one we love
Namaste, my light welcomes your light today
and it’s always today

And why is when I’m sick I twatwaffle on love?
Twatwaffling my thoughts
twatwaffling what I feel
twatwaffling again today
and it’s always today

Always, all ways,
your crazy-assed poet xxx


Light Fantastical

Light Fantastical
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Visiting places

The metaphysical light illuminates
undiscovered realms of delight
hidden within a moment of silent ecstasy
a nanosecond before lips meet
to share their own secrets
in love’s kiss
the wonders beyond everyday
reality existing in the fleeting touch
where the heart and soul dance the wild rhythm
leaving the mind in the logical wilderness
still pondering the intrinsic value
of not being bothered to give a moment of time
and the future dissipates in the mortal cold
out of reach and out of touch
for love has no logic
for love has no place in mortality
when embracing the divinity
the purist of passion
that’s out of this world

always, all ways
your crazy-assed poet xxx


Siren of Song

Siren of Song
Form: Epistle
Theme: Apocalypse
Subject: Underwater

Well what do I do with that in a love letter
my mind is utterly blank
is that apocalyptic if a busy creative mind
screeches to a halt in what the fuck
or can the falling in love be described as such an event
as it is the complete destruction of being one
hardly a global thing
but yes an end to the personal world
as a new world of two is born
in the drowning emotions
that overwhelm the senses
and I have no doubt you are my beauty of the deep
oceans of love
and my mind drifts
to my mermaid singing to her sailor
enticing my heart
enchanting my mind
the siren of song
calling my soul to its own destruction
my apocalyptic end

always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx

The Siren by John William Waterhouse, 1900. Oil on canvas. Housed in a private collection


When Love Meets PTSD

When Love Meets PTSD
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Plush toy

The soft touch of security
in an insecure world
my gentle reminder of time and place
when thoughts are running out of date
surreal rememberings of then
so real in the here and now
unspoken and unheard reflections
constantly rewind and replay
yet you understand
these are things I will never share
never explain
as to speak is to relive it all
open the box of Pandora
that starts the cycle of terror all over again
your hand holds mine as I cry from the dark
in a darkness where there is no moon
you shine a light
the light that tells me
yesterday is not today

Always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx


Beauty in Flowers

Beauty in Flowers
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Flowers

On summer days
as I gaze on the garden flowers
I see you in every bud
every blossom
every petal
every bloom
in the purity of scented-white freesias
now the cascading indigo beauty of lobelia
I see you
amid the passion of fiery red salvia
and as evening falls I can inhale
breathing your scent in the intoxicating aroma
of jasmine flowers
And as I walk the wild pathways
the green grasses splashed with colour
the sweet daisy ready to chain
into a crown for your hair
and the flushed petals of the dog rose
watching from the brambles
a beauty among the thorns
and I wonder if you reflect on me
in the truth of my desire of realness
like the buttercup reveals in mellow yellow
my love of butter over the fake margarines

All ways, always
Your Crazy-assed poet xxx


Power Invisible

Power Invisible
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Invisibility

Bear with me, my darling,
as I gather up what remains of my nerve
so I can give you the love you deserve
all the while your mischief is thinking
how to throw my thinking
to leave me sinking
drowning in the words of love
And we’re floating on turbulent emotions
like the petals of the roses in summer
that line the way to our destiny
beautiful petals
delicately torn from the thorn
yet they cut deep
and I bleed emotions
for you, my darling, are my torment
Hold me, my darling,
I can’t do this on my own
be my breath of life
as I battle the damage
and struggle to heal my heart
to be strong enough to love you
And we’re floating on turbulent emotions
like the petals of the roses in summer
stripped bare on the path of destiny
elegant petals interlaced without the thorns
beautiful petals
yet still they cut
from the words we have left unspoken
Stay with me, my darling,
we’re bound by this the invisible power
we call it love
as the means to understanding it’s invisibility
deciphering what lies beyond human understanding
And we’re floating on turbulent emotions
like the petals of the roses in summer
without a care on the path of our destiny
there is no going back
but we know the petals
such beautiful petals of love
still have their thorns

all ways, always,
your crazy-assed poet xxx


Woofs and Wags

Woofs and Wags
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Dog biscuits

How apt given our recent trip to Norfolk. No, I won’t write this from Lilydog but Simbadog. Woof!!!

It’s a dog’s life with so many things to love. Food, biscuits, pulling out the rubbish, finding smelly spots in the garden, lounging on the sofa like I own it, my toys, your socks, your bed, chasing my ball, jumping in the stream, and more food.

But what makes my tail wag the most is you, my hooman, and I know I am a lucky dog.

Each morning I can’t wait to wake you up with a slobbering wet kiss in the face – washing the salty sleepiness from your skin. I want you to wake up so we can have our walk and I can chase my ball until your arm is just ready to drop off. And best of all you have put all different smell-spots for me to explore. You are that thoughtful, and I know how much you love me, especially going out when I am asleep to change them all around.

After my walk, I get sad because you go into the room you call an hoffice and ignore me for a while and I miss you. I get so excited at lunchtime I drool, and not just for the chance of titbits of food. You, my hooman, are so kind that the best part of my day is when you are free to play with me and I try to jump into your arms for a big love hug to tell you how much I love and miss you.

I could bark on and on about you, my hooman. The hooman that fills my days with joy and gladness. I just want you to know my love is unconditional and I will be loyal to you forever. I would run miles to be with you, face any danger to protect you, and I am always here to lick away your tears if you cry. You are my hooman, my best friend, and my truest love. And I want to be the only one to make you laugh and smile.

With my heart laid bare on my wagging tail I will do everything I know to tell you I love you even more than biscuits.

My woofs and wags


Pen, Paper, Paint

Pen, Paper, Paint
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Art

Drawing pictures and writing words
expressions caught in creative thought
that dangle everywhere
including letters I write to say I love you
for like beauty love entwines
becoming inherent in art
as expressions of heart and mind
love is in the composition of lines
a distant tree on the horizon
and its spirals in the perspective
coming from the distance into the present
into the foreground like a delicate flower
reaching out from bunches of grass
vibrant and fresh it cannot be denied
it is there
love is the dark moody skies
atmospheric as it rages
battering down human resistance
love is the anguish of words
that release the soul from the pen
healing and calming
the turmoil of living
for this is my art
and it speaks love

All ways, always
You crazy-assed poet xxx


Lunar Vapours

Lunar Vapours
Form: Epistle
Theme: The moon
Subject: Clouds

Tonight the moon seems to hang
suspended in fullness
as the clouds scatter away
drifting on the warm summer breeze
we lay here amid the meadow grass
where the sounds of the night echo
and you rest your head on my arm
on a night designed for love
made for lips to kiss
and delicately dance on your skin
kisses chilling the heat
stirring the heat within
and you whisper my name
to float on the summer breeze
your sighs draw me closer
and I feel your breath awaken
to the gentle caresses
exploring your desire
as gentle moonlit kisses
delicate and gentle evolve
into demanding passion
and your soft whispers turn to cries
echoing across the meadow
and the moon in her suspense
seems slightly fuller

all ways, always
your crazy-assed poet


Drifting Back in Time

Drifting Back in Time
Form: Epistle
Theme: Music
Subject: a pen

My senses drift and the pen dithers
as the strains of the Blue Danube begin
words floating on the three beat measure
falling softly on paper
like autumn leaves on a babbling stream
and I smile
as in my mind’s eye
your eyes sparkle at me
through the dark dusky tresses
into the clouds of my imagination
and I write before the moment is
forever lost to me
yet the strings play on
in the wordless song
that captures love in the moment
in a dance
before new fashions and trends
broke the heart of love
music swelling and sweeping
as passion explodes
enchanted by a violin's tune
now that’s something rock ‘n’ roll can’t do

always, all ways
your Crazy-assed Poet xxx


Sleep Talk

Sleep Talk
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Strange conversation

As the lights go out to thoughts of sleep
odd things turn up in the mind
and the trivial becomes randomly important
impatiently waiting on the lips
like a hungry kiss
words erupt in chaotic questions
and drowsy meaningless answers
discussing the meaning of nothing much
and as I turn over to kiss you good-night
I realise
you are lost in your dreams

always, always
your crazy-assed poet xxx


Let It Rain

Let It Rain
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Rain

Autumn sunshine hidden behind
Dark moody clouds
Threatening the moment with raining sheets
As we run to shelter
Beneath the arch of an old fallen tree
Soaking wet amid the October leaves
Clinging to jeans and hoodies
We no longer feel the rain
Teasing and nibbling
Sensually hungry
Soft lips kiss

Always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx


Love’s Dystopia

Love’s Dystopia
Form: Epistle
Theme: Love
Subject: Dystopia

In this darkened room the feelings are too familiar
so familiar I don’t know their name
for the ravenous silence prowling over my skin
an insatiable craving crying out for nourishment
yet nothing satisfies its hunger
and my tears don’t ease the ache inside
they just make my already sore eyes sting
as I stare into the night
weary eyelashes scratching like needles
daring the dawn to interrupt the darkness
with its haunting mists of daylight
when the hours stretch into nothing new
in the abyss of silence
the void where my existence is now invalidated
some call it loneliness
but I call it the dystopia of being in love



Form: Epistle

My darling

It has been over two years since
we tossed caution to the wind
and challenged fate to throw it all at us
and somehow
we made it this far
lockdown after lockdown
shielding and isolation
we have hit that all in to touch
with a baseball bat with love written on it
and still fate says have this
and I still say bring it on
our love was meant to be
and I ain’t arguing with that

Always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx


Harmony in Dissonance

Harmony in Dissonance
Form: Epistle

Namaste my love

In you I see the conflict of femininity
the dissonance of womanhood
yet in all that prissy and pouty fuss
I find my harmony
the tranquillity that empowers
my masculinity
the luxurious lustre of gender identity
emancipated in liberated sensual intimacy
and all the delicious decadence hidden
behind the mask of cold social respectability
a society devoid of desire and pleasure
a soulless world unknown by love
so close the door, my heart
shut that world out
hush, now my love,
we are free
free to be
free to love

All ways, all ways
Your Crazy-assed poet xxx


Beatitudes of Love

Beatitudes of Love
Form: Epistle

Another wee thinking for you, darling

Sitting beside you as you lie in bed my lips
like dancing butterflies on your closed eyes
whispering the hypnotic words of relaxation
yet there is awareness in the meditation
as my lips flutter softly into your anticipation
and so the tantric senses begin
tempting your imagination into the most sacred sin
beatitudes of love and lust
healing the tears and fears of sadness
as the inner eyes open to the beauty
of divinity as it flows between lovers
revealing the secret in the openness of passion
that the wage of the most holiest sin
is not death but life
for creation is borne of love

all ways, always
your Crazy-assed poet xxx


Promiscuity with the Marquis

Promiscuity with the Marquis
Form: Epistle

My innocent one

Okay maybe naïve would be a better word
but innocent is so much more deviant
when my wicked mind is at play
perhaps reading the Marquis before sleeping
well, it wasn’t going to end in pure dreams was it?
De Sade, now there was one perverted bugger
yet he feeds my imaginations
of the power within a sexual encounter
and sexual power that lingers beneath desire
the desire waiting
simmering in the heat of the moment
for the surrender between love and lust
and the intense power takes control
exploiting the unyielding sinews
of aching passion
restrained in the desire

Yeah, I shouldn’t read the Marquis before bed, should I?

All ways, always
Your wicked-minded-poet xxx


A Poet’s Thinking

A Poet’s Thinking
Form: Epistle

My sweet love,
I know I only wrote you yesterday
but between then and now
things have changed
I love you but
not as I did yesterday
today it is more than that
and perhaps
I am guilty of a terrible thing
that thing being
I don’t tell you that
that my love isn’t stagnating
it is growing with each passing day
maybe each passing hour or minute
it is constantly changing
evolving into something beautiful
and perhaps I should tell you that

All ways, always
Your Crazy-assed poet xxx


Poet Lost in Daydreams

Poet Lost in Daydreams
Form: Epistle

Hello darling,

Another week
another epistolary
sharing words of love
and intimate imaginings
maybe that should be or
as intimacy and love are different
different but connected
the fuel of desire being love
and the fuel of passion being desire
hmmm maybe it is and
so looking out the window at the rain
it’s raining again
but rainy days are for losing
in thought and imaginings
of daydreaming the moments
of desire
of secrets hidden beneath fabric
revealed in nights heavy and sanguine
with lust
and the romance of seduction
sweetened by wine
and intense dangerous kisses
naked in their intent
as they subtract the night from the day
and the day lies scattered
discarded and crumpled on the floor
as the passion of night
comes alive on our bed

All ways, always
Your Crazy-assed Poet xxx


Letters and Poetry

Letters and Poetry
Form: Epistle

Hi sweetheart
Being apart from you is more difficult
than I will ever let you know. I see you
in everything I see
and do
and that really doesn’t ease the ache of being apart.
All that I am loves all that you are,
and even that doesn’t feel enough at times.
I cherish every minute,
every hour
every day
we get with each other
and that love grows stronger
more demanding
more consuming
when we are apart
so I write letters and poetry
to feel you close to me
I feel your hand on my shoulder
as your fingers play with my hair
and I long to feel your breath on my cheek
I miss you, baby

Always, all ways
Your crazy-assed poet xxx