whispered wails

It used to hurt,
To be aware.

But this  my Solomon moment,

Where a creature like me,
Let me hear it’s tale,
Sagely it whimpered across,
Not a gnostic,
But a snail,
Asking me to spare it with its whispered wail.

And this was it’s advice to me,

Be exile,
Be annihilated,
Remove everything , until you move slower,
Until you savour the moment,
And leave behind a residue of you,
Tracks for others to find your secret.

And I’ve been obsessed with this moment for weeks,
A daily walk turned into divine advice,
From the most introverted creature,
Afraid no one cares for its shell.

Needless to say,
I went into hyper-drive awareness of anything moving,
I need all the advice I can get.

How do you move slower,
Except by removing all things that race in your life?


This is an actual photo of my wise friend.

-on extroverts loving introverts


-on extroverts loving introverts

surely the plenitude of you
can find the minuscule of me


Your skin is there to remind you,
that beneath it is what matters
Seven layers,
seven wonders,
seven heavens,
seven sins,
seven hawameem of protection.

There is secrets in seven,
and there are seven more secrets beneath the flesh,
seven layers to your ego,
seven layers to your soul,
if you were to learn them,
to be cognisant of them,
you’d do nothing but busy yourself with mastering them all,
even then,
still another seven layers of extinction,
annihilating yourself to the point of non recognition,
non existence.

Seven is where it’s at,
now bathe me in the vastness of seven seas,
until on the seventh day,
I am cleansed from seven hells.

You have seven senses, not five,
won’t you love me with but one of them.


Photo again by David Uzochukwu ….. amazing

Rust – The ever lustful


rustRust on wet Iron, the appetite is lust,
Devoted Iron, undress and bare skin to moisture,
Water is selfish, observe its transmutation,
Dissipate, dissipate, osmosis of a different kind, in rewind,
Alchemy of love, annihilation of mind.
Spectacular! Majestic unison is water on bare metal,
Two hydrogen’s and one oxygen – one molecule of consumption,
Otherwise life essential, now the serpent of lust.
Utter fixation, the selfishness becomes selflessness; the hydrogen separates from the oxygen.
Water, devoting a part of it, carving out its life giving force, a sacrifice to Iron.
Separation for procreation; gives birth to love,
Fungal beautiful, you long to witness cancer take form , to cause destruction.
Slowly, eating away, and the Iron, does not resist. It too offers itself.
Into cancers sharp incisors it donates its flesh.
“Consume me whole or don’t bother”, it says, but to a hungry serpent, tis a sweet invitation, un-refuted.

And what remains?


The echo of orange stained crying,

Blood stains,

Of the violent nature of loves most haunting affair,

Splattered, evidence of the purity of a love,

That can exist only in nature,

In primal, unadulterated, innate nature.


Forensic evidence of love’s presence:

background texture

The  picture above is by Stephen Scullion.
It has been used with his permission. He is a genius at capturing oceans, seas, stills at times where it seems all liveforms have ceased to exist.
You can find him on social media Instagram handle @surfpi
The original picture unfiltered is:





Floating into existence

be someones nectar2
This is the stunning photography work of Heather James of https://hjphotography11.wordpress.com/

Do you think a flower fears a bee when it approaches?
And there you witness it unveil itself like a bashful virgin, of it’s nectar it trusts with the bee until it dies waiting. It withers and dries away, unaware of the healing medicine that was made with it’s offering.

If it knew of the fate of it’s offering, don’t you think it would have sucked at the soul of soil, stolen every rain drop and forced it’s way to the sun higher, brighter, bigger in blossom?

Somewhere in the world, your kindness, your love, your generosity your patience and offering will ripple into someone’s life.

I’ve done my part,
Given of my heart,
Written until death does me part,
Will do me part,
And I do so, knowing well my art,
Will fall into someone’s lap,
Burn in someone’s heart,
Heal someone’s wound,
Etch into someone’s skin,
Retain a reflection in their retina
Worlds away from me,
Seas apart.

Today, the moment capture of the picture in my piece was by Heather James of Heather James Photography. Please see the link at the bottom of the image to her work.

It was a simple connect. My words found her, her photography found me. She was brave enough to connect, I reciprocated in kind, because I saw kindness. She became my muse which caused me to write the above.
Small connections, can cause monumental changes. Small disconnections can do the same.
Be someone’s nectar.

Egoïste – 23

stip layers away

How many layers, veils, coats of distraction do we have?

It makes no comprehensible sense that we cry pangs of longing with distractions engulfing us.