From what I remember of my life from the past I know that in some ways I am a different person but in others I will never completely out grow myself.

Those little mannerisms that just seem to stick, the way I can't eat (temperature) hot food or the way I wrinkle my nose when it's itchy. Those I will always keep because they are a part of who I am.There are those that I have made a conscious effort to ditch -like eating off other peoples plates and being too quiet...

But then I think back on how I was sooo petrified of the dark, so scared that I would be frozen in my bed too scared to move-the light and shadows of the moon shining through the screen and my windows would always be darker because of the greenhouse right outside my bedroom with all its hanging orchids and their long grasping leaves that seemed to sway and stalk the dark.And I haven't even started on the eyes in my cupboard...All the cupboards along the one wall had to be closed...They were in this dark wood and the grain of the wood would play tricks on my eyes contorting into strange faces and eyes that would stare and stare accentuated by the dark and my imagination.
So I would try and lie as still as possible trying not to move an inch-until I had to move to scratch an itch and then it would itch all over and then they would see me...Then I would cover my head with the blanket only to have the heat cause my lungs to scream for fresh air....I would finally convince myself that it was ok to take a peak outside the safety of the blanket for air only to be confronted with the eyes again....

This was my night-time reality for the first years of my life-well I slept in my parents room most nights and I'm sure it couldn't have been too good for their sex life-but you don't think that far when your small...I just knew that Daddy didn't like me coming in all the time.

So I've changed, evolved to the days that have become part of my life and part of me-I like to think that I have come a long way-I am no longer scared to the dark and I think that is because I have realized that there are things in this world that are far more menacing than the dark-it's what lurks in the shadows of the light that can be far more dangerous -always under the pretence of good.

The past, now just ash.
To me the beginning has yet to come.
A flower to surface from the ground traveling up the stem past the leaves through the air all the way to me.

I burnt all bridges they no longer stand between divided water and land.

The end never here always to come, now is life and heart beat strong
I will to be
to stand here free.
head strong
would you be mine
I feel myself drifting beyond the speed of light
can you find me?
beyond this dark?

Birds fly high
higher then gone
specks cloud the sky
fly to me
down then further
they play the wind
wings strong and sure
they speak to me
I hear them
can you?
they say...
we are free
free to go where we please dip we sway
let current drift on
let wind sweep this cold, cold day away.

Too far driven
too far we float
too far is home
to there we go
to flowers flourished
to streams free
fast they swim though land and sea.

In a world that spins to its daily tune, the light of day to the dark lack of it, I could tell you that global warming will eventually turn forests to dust. I could tell you of summers that strip great ice mountains melting them into the sea. I could tell you of birds who don’t know which way to fly because they don’t know what to expect when they migrate from season to season.I couldn'nt tell you how to breathe when the air around us could cave in, we live under pollution yet we pretend everything all right.%o

I could tell you more.

I could'nt tell you why we waste so much. I could tell you why it rains on the sea. I could tell of floods and drought that sweep what they want from what we know and come and come again.Blinding our love for mother nature our doubt for her ability to heal and rejuvenate growing. The earths path round the sun a delicate balance-her seasons like waves pushing and pulling the shore...And those seasons too with their cycles.Endless constructive and destructive circles.



In this world of today when all we live is now, I could'nt tell you what to like or who to follow. I could'nt show you how to dream however I could give you case studies of what the human spirit is capable of achieving. I could go where no one else would dare, till tomorrow’s new pioneer sees past me. To push what we know, to push what we do but I could push too far.



In that world of the past, who knows what secrets she would possess? I could tell you I’m digging, digging in the dust. Because I could tell you that we have to learn from our mistakes. Because who knows fact from fiction, we know only what we’re told and who could know what lies beneath if we don't dig past the layers of lives that have walked before.

I could tell you of dizzying sights, tastes, ways and smells if you’d only look beyond your culture.If you'd only just walk over a hill, if you'd only just get on that plane and take that adventure to look past yourself to see our beautiful world.Well getting out your front door is always a good start...



In our world of love and acceptance, I could tell you to care. I could tell you to give because of the stark extremes and how we live in between- knowing want or reaching the peak of Maslows hierarchy of needs. Because it’s always easier to see from the top. I could'nt tell you where your motivation comes from.



In the world of rush, rush, rush. I could tell you to stop and smell the flowers. I could tell you to phone your mom(or someone you don't phone very often if it isn't your mom...). You’ll probably not listen- I could tell you I already knew that.But one does hope...



In this world that you and I know, I could tell you about love though I could'nt tell you about hate and why we go to war.
Only to stop when we are all exhausted, the struggle now only to survive-the point of everything all but forgotten.



I could tell you about my world, that world of me. You could be in that world but you could never be me.

We all sing our own song, we all dance to our own tune, we all know our own lines to our own script of life and we all want to be free.

I could'nt tell you what keeps us going, I could tell you, you are probably intrigued just like me. I could tell you we are all the same in that everyone wants to matter, to have their claim to life.

I could tell you of dreams, I could talk of reality, I could wax lyrically about this or that. Not that it would matter past this weeks paper round, cold news never to be re-served. That hot read, scratches your itch to know to care, to hear, to share, who we are shaped by what we know.

The Bus ride in wasn't without feature as she pushed her finger against the glass that let the world in that she was passing...A cold sunny day after a week of solid rain...The crisp clear cornflower blue sky...Stretching further than she could imagine, that sky with all its life taken in one breath at a time.

The seats in front of her were full with the backs of heads...She always did like the last seat at the rear end of the bus. That way nothing could take her by surprise-and no one would ever see what she was thinking, only feel her eyes on the backs of their heads as she stared without purpose ahead.

The sunroof was open and was swirling her hair playfully around her head-the only problem was that this was particularly annoying to her as she was feeling a bit on edge and that ice cold wind was just enough to do harm to her calm demure...Why didn't the couple with the matching jackets and shoes and sunglasses and pants do something about the cold? He could obviously see that it was distracting for his love...That her perfect hair was suffering a huge insult by the draft?

Pushing her glasses back into place and with a huge sigh she went back to her book with new resolve...Despite of the fact that it seemed as though all the pages were merged into one.....

My sisters best friends sisters wedding%) no, just my sisters best friends wedding...although she is friends with her friend who got married's brother





Buy the day
feel the hour
stop for a minute
say hello to time
this a day
this a hour
in my sisters life
when it all turned...
whole

Sunshine on my face
dont you just love to be
the beach, the sky
and with high tide
a flooded senses day

to pack away
that picnic basket
filled with days
filled to play
as clear as the sky
with marshmellow clouds

mango trees
beam at me
their lovely fruit
hang to sway
a coconut breaze
that's been for days
in pineapple time
the day grows old
but for me
as I'm still young
buttermilk river
in search of a home
will it find one...
I dont know

Pickup girl
with her pickup lines
for one or a thousand
she's one of a kind

Pickup girl
she's been dumped before
with her scrap yard signs
and used by dates
debris from a battered life

shorts skirts that hide hurt
come again
you might make her turn circles

Pickup girl
with her frills
rouse cheeks to tell it all
legs that beg for imagination
but still drive to distraction
the boys that go on by

Pickup girl
she can tell if your game
but you cant try tame her
and never will
she wants more than you could ever give
but takes your soul with a smile

Pickup girl
loose to find
a man who's blind
pick me ups
filled with bumps
shared,bared, worn,torn
she's hard with wear

pickup girl
with a heavy heart
heavy from carrying what she should not


her mothers child
all over again

Short note...This isn't about me before anyone gets worried...Hi mom!!! No...%) It's just a general observation I wrote a few months ago about what happens when a wound is left to fester and breed...The cycle a disease that is a struggle to break free from.

Dealing in Dubai
why,why,why?
Mr.High
so high in the sky
snorted, deported
done dealt shit
so hang up your crime
leaving it to die
and start a new life
because there once was a boy who didn't say cant
who had a rough start
when his life hit the fan
where the curb meets the pavement