Bleached blonde hair and cigarette
New high heels the latest dress
Never worked or or done a tap
You greatest works done on your back
The state has filled your moral gap
Jeremy Kyle taught you that
A hero to you, a God in a way
Sat watching him every day
Always first in the que
For any benefits you can *****
Fathers day must be fun !
When seven different fellas come
Live a life without need
All the kids have ADHD
All a label all a brand
To you it's just cash in hand
More for **** and wine as well
A disability car too
They even fill the forms for you
You have it all a hedonite
You don't work or give a *****
Facebook and twitter you just love
Following fools and chatting up
Your an expert now you have it all
The perfect life for **** all
But hang on, what's this pain?
As you age your health gets frail
It's all the **** you shoved inside
Now the NHS supplies
You never paid a penny in
But time to claim it is again
You shout again and stamp your feet
Oxygen and chair for free
And when you finally pop your cloggs
A grant to cremate your sponging ***

Place the heart you had in youth within your hands and watch it beat.
For then it beat with passion and rage and skipped those beats when you were dazed.
Then hold the heart you have of now, the one you feel trying to burst.
As age and worries push its bounds in a world where we feel we may just drown.
With all its worries and all the fears we carry for ourselves and our loved ones dear.
Then take the heart of an older you, its beats slower now its journey through.
A heart that beat through love and loss and fear and joy till now...
It stops.

Interwoven through the decades
Like a dream fragmented
Recalling the laughter
Hiding the tears
Small talk, no mention of sorrow
Paths crossed by chance
Yet fused together in a past
Updating the similarities
Glossing over the failures
Not eluding to the passing of love
Love! What of its spoils, it's loss
Now coveting the richness of maybe
The longing for perhaps
To capture a time lost
Then by good grace and fortune
Re start the clock
Like a caravan crossing the desert
To a destination hidden to all but the chosen
Where the weave becomes tied, knotted
The richness of lifes tapestry completed.

I dreamed of an island I could make home
But the sea rose and soon it was gone
So high on a mountain was next on the list
But crops wouldn't grow on snow covered cliffs
So I went to the hills and cut down the trees, made cabins where they stood and planted the fields.
All was ok, I thought this is the place!
Till the mudslide came and washed us away.
All that was left was to go to the plains, the breadbowl of life and to start off again.
Acre on acre we planted the crop, watered from wells drilled deep underground.
How happy we were and all seemed fine, till tornadoes came and moved house again!
So the sea goes up and the wind comes down. Floods and icebergs becoming the norm
Frackings poisoned the water and coal the air Japan glows in the dark so we cant go there
Nothing left but to find a new world and Elon Musks ahead of the game.
Mother earths being killed off by her own kids, as like parasites we ferociously nibble away.
She gave us the sun and the wind and the waves...
But once we realised
It was too late.

Tell a beautiful woman she is beautiful
She has heard it so many times before
She passes it off
Like rain drops rolling off of a leaf
Many men will tell her
Few will mean it
Tell a woman why she is beautiful
Tell her what you see in her that no other does
Tell her what she stirs inside of you
Tell her what is special
Tell her what makes her different
Tell her why you are
Tell her slowly and attentively
Tell her when she is low
Tell her when she is hurt
Tell her when she wakes
Tell her when she is sleepy
Because one day
She will be gone
You will have hundreds of things you never told her
Spinning in your thoughts
A million reasons
None will matter then
So
Tell her
NOW
TODAY
For She may never hear your words again

You thought of saying it to her today, but decided to wait until tomorrow, but someone just said it now, having thought of it yesterday.
The time is always right
The words may not be

I'm all out of fairydust my magic wand is broke
I'm not the samaritans I have problems all my own
99% of the time I'm there for everyone
But 1% you need to know I have to be alone
I don't have all the answers I listen very well
Tough love can be hard but you need that as well
All are worlds are different some seem dark and black
I'm often there to hold your hand and try to guide you back
But for a while you are on your own I'm taking some me time
Temporarily unavailable sort your own life out

That morning smile
It's like the sunshine
Lights my dark days
Just the chit chat
Words each morning
Makes the day bearable
Will it be the green today?
I love green
But no another colour
The outfit is a talking point
We sit people watching
Though this is an escape
Escape of a kind, but so much more
A duality of spirit
We listen to her
Study her face
Her little ears
Her piercings
Her lips
I digress now
He's away, America  
From abroad today
She awaits his return
Hangs for words from afar
It makes her cheeks glow
I wonder does she wonder
No I guess never
But what if?
Were there now
Off she gets
I watch her walk
Study her, imagine her
Gone for another day
The morning smiled
Such pleasure fills me
Selfish and betrayal
A light in my now cold heart

On Wednesday I wanted to **** myself
It was the perfect storm when all around me was black and painful
I made it to Thursday

Two strapping squadies sat on a tank
Both just been for a sly ham shank
One called Peter one called Paul
Both rather partial to the others smalls

Along came the Sgt he didn't want to play
Went and told the CO he thought they were gay
Along came the MPs in their red hats
Dragged them to the guard house quick as a flash

Now a court martial and public ridicule
The Sgt said the showers where not safe at all
A dishonerable discharge for being a ***
Being a soldier was all that they had

Twenty years latter we now go to war
You love a man or woman even three or four
The Army doesnt care if you play the rear flank
So long as you can shoot to ****
Or drive a Tommy tank

Well that was then and this is now
Many came back from another gulf war
Hounded like prey by the lawyers of today
For doing exactly what the CO says

So sign up Peter sign up Paul
Do what you like with you best friends smalls
But for heaven's sake be you John or Jane
DON'T SHOOT ANYONE IN THE GOVERNMENTS
NAME!!

The Answer?
Karman. Blessings and peace of your god be upon you
Wa 'alaykum s-salamu  wa l-lahi wa barakatuh
I have a gifted copy of The Glorious Our'an"  Given to me by a Somalia imam from the local Mosque. A great guy. It is a true not perceptive translation  by Abdul Majid Daryabadi you may know the text. The Islamic Foundation Sponsored and published it. I have read it and it's commentary. So that I guess removes the misguided presumption of a lack of knowledge or respect for your faith. You don't have to follow a faith to appreciate it. He has also done a rather good commentary on the King James version of the bible. From an Islamic view that may be a good read for the future. As to the Bible I was born to a Strict Irish catholic family attended bible and catechism classes. My aunt is a Missionary Nun and another close friend a Priest. I have also read Hindu and other eastern texts the Marabahatra is a fascinating read.
Theology is something of a hobby. I'm currently reading the book of Mormon it's creation somewhat similar to the Quran prophets being spoken to by god etc. I won't give my academic qualifications suffice to say 11 years at universitys and 3 colleges kept me busy. I now work in the criminal justice system in a diverse multi cultural area. So it is your God Allah is your true religion not mine nor is Christianity. It would be hypocritical to revere a god I don't hold faith to.
None the less I respect and appreciate and see parallels. For instance Isaiah 3: 16-18 is a similar contrast to the oppression to women's chosen sexuality as shown by Sarah .sl-Nur  : 31 in your holy book.
I read it I appreciate it yet find it moral distasteful in its application in both the Quran and Bible.
I'd ask at this point have you read other texts Kamran?  Or does your sect of Islam prohibit it? You see knowledge isn't power it is enlightenment.  I think some Zealots both Muslim and Christian are more frightened of girl with a pen and an education, than a kid with a gun. I digress.
As to spelling the Quran has three variants in the accepted English / ISO Latin format. Primarily from the 5th century, although Anglo Saxo influence was stamped out by monks by the 7th. This lead to interpretation not translation. Later translations from Arabic texts to English suffer incompatibility as oddly does Mandarin Chinese which is woefully difficult to translate to from Arabic. It is a little late now but many language scholars believe English suffers having 12 letters that didn't make the grade as it where. OU  combined being one of them. That following Q gives a more fluid pronouncing of the Word Qouran.  Yet it is accepted as Quran and it's accents and flections sadly missed by the western key board. Then we have Koran which again tries to help the western voice pronounce it. This the third most common spelling is seated in the  Germanic influences of futhark gothic Romo Greek Latin dare I say modern languages.The texts of the old testament suffer the same fate. These translated from Sifrei Torah an ancient Hebrew bastardised descendant of aramaic a distant relative of ancient Arabic languages.    

So Karman it wasn't spelt deliberately to offend you. Having to explain context to every word presented to you, clearly shows you can write in English and I presume I hope given your presented intellect other languages. Yet it is easy to interpret a single word wrongly and not with ignorance or malice. You also have a great understanding of your faith a true believer yet a tunnel vision as to others and acceptance not belief of their faith.
Buddha said ( if you accept his existence, not his teachings etc)  "WE ARE SHAPED BY OUR THOUGHTS; WE BECOME WHAT WE THINK"  
So not accepting others is allowing the mind to be a thief of knowledge and an incarnate evil.
****** was a Christian. Are all Christians Jew murderers, homosexual and Islam persecutors.
Clearly not some are as my friend I believe you are enlightened and saw a satirical response as an insult to your God and looked deeper for a meaning of aggression that clearly isn't there.
Your Holy  Quran is holy to a follower.

A lovely Islamic quote on faith and follower is

"There is a difference between knowledge and faith. Satan had knowledge Satan knew Allah, better than you or I but Satan didn't have faith"

As-salam alaykum

Oh It started quietly
Lines crossed, back and forth
Tempers frayed, voices raised
Then came the skirmishes
A few at dawn, more at night fall
Whilst the day was full of exchanges
In the days that followed it became more intense
Violent clashes and casualties
No more warnings, full on ramming
Clear and defined as if at the wheel of a ship
Collisions and screaming, then came the peace keepers
Dressed in geeen and red to try and calm the situation
But to no avail
For only when the last toy or the last mince pie was bought
Then only then on December 24th was the battle of Christmas over
An eerie truce then held until haloween.

Enter thy monies
Oh needy one

The door opens
Light ON

The door closes
Just you
No other

No space
No comforts

You sit
Relief abounds

An epiphany
Cathartic

But No!
No paper!!

Now sullied
In panic

No joy
Unit empty

A scramble
Your bag

A frenzy
Emptied now

A tissue!
A smile

A knock
A foreigner

A flush
A wash

Door open
An exit

An entrance
A grin

A car crash or train wreck?
Just two souls that impact.
For a moment or for a day, they twist turn and play.
They go from nothing to blissful extreme neither knowing what It means.
But both just hope that it's for real and not a fleeting inbetween.
The dawn comes once or maybe twice and she looks and thinks "oh well he's nice" .
However the hormone machine in overdrive begins to frame and classify.
To old, to thin, to fat, to short and is that a mole or a ****** wart.
A few days more reality bites he's not the one to hold you tight.
He didn't do any one thing wrong other than the posing thong!
Move on, next please another guy for you to tease.
To show you wares, flutter your eyes and if he's good between your thighs.
We are all the same girl or boy we use each other as simply toys.
It's not were bad or any such it's simply that were damaged goods.
We pay each day for lessons learnt from others for whom we really yearned.
The dilemma now is simply this:-
Every other is a different kiss, a different taste another ego it's simply not "A Lover to go"
So of you pop and choose the next to be the filling in your  train wreck.

I find myself back in the spiral of hell.... whilst life is so precious
Yet each day disappears into the book of yesterday.
The book of yesterday written in time as you dealt with life and it's challenges and changes
Being there for all who needed you
Everyone's rock, was how you rolled
I don't believe your time wasted as you evolve, grow, learn
That is what moves us on from our past
From its pleasures and pains
It's spirals may be a road to hell
Yet not its destination
In truth you can never regain that time or change how you spent it
There is no exact science in life, no guide
We get no directions no choice of emotions
Some will hurt, some heal and life will go on
Somewhere if your lucky you share the journey
Not always all of it, but some
So to set out to live for today, is the only course you can chart
If your lucky your course may cross another's and the journey becomes an adventure filled with sunny days
Remember tomorrow isn't written and you will never get back time
Your future lies there, not in the book of yesterday.

There is a box.
It holds all the thoughts, the dreams, the pleasures our passions, loves and more.
And yet, a box closed.
For in that box are our fears, our need, our failings, loses and regrets.
I know why the box is closed.
As Pandora knew.
For if opened all are freed.
Not just what we want others to see.
So we all have a box.
We speak of its contents.
Often omitting items.
Sometines speaking of things in others boxes, wishing they were in ours.
Little boxes
Little boxes
We all have little boxes.

No lights, half on the shoulder, rain beating down.
I pulled up behind, put my rear lights on.
The plate came back to a local, no markers. I walked up torch in hand.
Inside sat a woman, well dressed with her head in hands on the wheel.
I tapped on the glass.
I thought "Drunk driver".
Then I saw the face through the window, panda eyes and soaked with tears.
I opened the door and asked "Is everything ok?" The tearful reply came
"I've broken down."
There was no smell of alcohol and she was clearly distressed.
I said it's ok I will try and get you going again, what's the problem?
He left me for another woman.
1 A.m. in the morning, the middle of my beat in the middle of nowhere.
What do you do?
What would you have done?
I called my location in and said I was helping a driver.
We sat in my patrol car and I shared my flask of tea.
Luckily she took sugar.
She asked if I had better things to do?
I said no it's my lunch break.
I listened she cried.
I listened for over an hour.
He left her for a younger woman.
She found them together
In her bed
Foolish man in every way in my view
But my view, neither appropriate or necessary.
When she had got herself together I walked her back to her car.
Started it up, heater on and her eyes dried
She asked who I was and I gave my name and collar number.
She smiled and drove away.
About a month later I came on duty and a message was left in my tray.  
A lady called for you.
Left a message.
"Thanks for the tea"
No name left.
(To tell me she was ok)
The details unreadable in my pocket book as soaked in the rain.
Never saw her or heard from her again

We all breakdown from time to time. Sometimes all we need is a little help.

I think the old camel is quite the beast
Carrying man and all his gear
For he can carry more than I
As he plods along with his life
As breaking point I have reached
A slow erosion of my soul
Day by day ever more
Until enough was a time now past
Then I will have long collapsed.

Morning came, Monday again but not as cold as yesterday
She shuffled like a caterpillar emerging for the spring
Tucked up in her onsie, a safe place to hide, all toasty warm inside

She spent half the night stary eyed, gazing into the sky
The first cup of coffee like a jump start to the soul as she silently screamed "AHA"
The game was afoot!

A poem to read from her friend and co conspiritor, but just hold on a mo, "Oooh Ladyboys" it isn't what she thought!

So Sherlock Shaw was on the case to try and find the truth, not like the BBC and Cumberbatch their "Bitter *******" sleuth

She smelt a rat or was mistaken was it someone else?
Too early in the investigation to shout " let battle commence" it was more like "Deputy Dawg" in Sherlock Shaws defence

So Google this and Google that in a bid to find the truth.
Skip past Sonia and Fernando and Lyn if you must, focus on the detail.
Who is Micheal Wolf?

A name is but a name like
"Bang I'm James Bond"
The devil is in the detail
Like many other things!

So this time lets have laughter as you read, as tears were my last wish
As Alan Partridge said:-
"Smell my cheese you mother"
I'm exactly who I said
Not Spartacus or Michael Wolfe
Just a bloke on the tinterweb

There was a widow who volunteered to clean the pews and dust the knave. All the jobs done in the church for the love of God in her spare time.
In summer time she cut fresh flowers, from the garden her husband tended now departed, to brighten weddings and communion masses.
She arranged them for mass each week but no one noticed who she was, just the cleaner in the shadows, thanked each week in the vicars sermon.
She had lived in that village by the church all her life, schooled and raised and married there, it was in many ways her church, her life revolved arounds its works as nothing else was left.
Then came the day she passed away and the funeral mass came and went. At the mass were very few, just the older Parrish folk and the fifth vicar she had known who sent her to her heavenly home.
As to her home here and all her worth, she left it to her local church the church she loved as much as God himself, her church from birth to death.

Love is like a concept album. Some really get it.
Some liked it because it was what everyone else wanted.
Some hated it but it grew on them.
Some never understood the concept or albums.

To love
To be loved
To be in love
To lose
To  be alone
To exist

In youth we never understand just how the smallest deeds are bound.
We look for a place that doesn't exist with Disney princess and horse drawn coaches.
Then as life lets us down in different ways we learn it's hard.
We learn to see those that care and those whos greed is all they're worth
Then as we come to lifes end we reflect upon all and try to understand
What was right and what was wrong and why we had to be alone

Oh we have danced in the discotech with partners of all nations when after liberation we all danced to the songs of liberty. Under all our flags united. As time went by we stopped dancing and others came With new music and one flag. But like mods and rockers they could not dance together and fought away from the sound of the music. Now the only tunes played are national anthems as rebel rousers for dancers, who don't dance and don't know the words to the songs. Cries of patriotism yet dressed as nationalists.
Calls to arms were peace held a fragile embrace like the elderly tangoing.
Now the new dancers don't dance.  They sit on the edges of the room causing fights.
Soon the discotech will bar our entry and then when others are barred too, Groups and gangs will form and fighting begin again, like the days before the discotech.
Who will be the bouncers this time.

The one in a million
over and over he tells her
no sign of letting go

I hear you say he can't help it
You're to clumsy by far
It's not a good day today
It never is tomorrow

It was your fault
He couldn't help it
You provoke him

Your face is a magnet
Attracts only his fists
Time and again
Scars where he hits

He used to be perfect
Remember his kiss
Exciting in bed
Rough but exciting
You were new to it

Pleasure became pain
Pain became often
When you said no
Then came the shouting

Along came the cops
The neighbours had called
Not seen you for days
You opened the door

No complaint to be made
You fell in the bath
Funny things baths
As you seemed to have bunced

Well time it passed
So came the day
When you fell in the bath
But you stayed that way

The coroner called
As well as the cops
A new coat of plastic
Cold on the slab

Ten years he got
Now the times spent
He's free to continue
All over again

Who will be next
The one in a million
The next to be clumey
And fall again

So if you read this
If you're the one
Please please report them
BEFORE YOU ARE GONE

So like everyone I guess, looking for the binary star in our life, the one we dance across time and the universe with and go into a spectacular decay before the end of it all, rather than the supernova that looks spectacular, then explodes wreaks havoc and collapses into a Neutron star at 11pm on a Saturday after 4 drinks and leaves a signature of chaos remembered for evermore, that your friends will always bring up to remind you of that woman you met!

Enter the day
Slipping its chains of night
Reminding the birds to sing
The bats to sleep
Foxes and badgers to hide
The sun rises and sets the stage
Be hidden by cloud or high above
Telling the flowers to open
Asking the moon to wain
Even hidden behind dark skies
It rules the day and commands the night
Then in surrender slips away
Enter the night

Living in a world run by bankers
You could be forgiven and think their wankers!
Politicians are now morally bankrupt
Yet voted in by all of us
A shambles the world stage thus becomes
When wars for oil are fought and won
For who holds the reigns in this new age?
A world of fear and religious rage
The media would have you believe that everyone's our  enemy
All fed the same by those in power, brainwashed TV every hour
No lesson yet have we ever learnt our fate seems sealed and we shall burn

We miss the differences.
Not because we don't notice,
more because we become too accustomed to them.
We don't notice the nights getting darker till we feel the chill of Autumn.
We notice spring when the low morning sun blinds us, not when flowers bud.
We see our childs first steps, yet fail to notice a grandparents last.
It is as though the important things trade places with the essentials as life overwhelms us, we miss transitions as we age.
We so often don't see when someone who was simply **** becomes beautiful, when we should scream it out loud before love becomes lost.
What we once admired we often despise and yet have no measure of when one emotion became the other, it probably didn't have too, we missed the change.
We loose touch, make new friends, we age but also become younger in so many ways. Lovers hearts, our hearts have the ability to do that, if we notice, yet we seldom do until we loose a friend and the news hits us hard.
For we simply miss the differences.
We just get eroded by lifes daily chores, Work eat sleep repeat.
So step back and look at the differences.
Look at what you have or what it is you need or need to change before it's to late to say it.
But don't miss a moment of it wondering what if? Should I have or I wish I had. Because even if you're wrong, it's right.
Hug your kids, your parents too and show someone how you feel. Even if it's just with a warm smile or just being there. Or something daft
It may be the only smile they see today, or the difference in their life that keeps them going today.
I once bought a welshman a little dragon in an egg. He collected dragons. He was so excited by it, it was like he was a little child for a few minuites. That's how I will remember him. The child like smile. Those are the memories we make.
So be the difference not the differences. No matter how small, to someone it could be all

I sat
The only sound was the water
Lapping at me
Wave upon wave
Higher each time
Cold yet comforting
Time to go
A last supper of Jack Daniels
Then bounding through the water
You came
Stuck your slobbering tongue in my face
Snapped me out of it
A walk home
Wet
Alive

The light glistening in his eyes as the salty tears ran from them
In that instant there was no more mask, just the face of a man
A man lost in the trials of life and without any compass or destination
A man like any other.

I sat and watched her with her new bucket and *****
In her mind building a fairy palace
Adorned with cocked shells
The walls around it to keep the ocean at bay
Then feathers collected placed as flags upon its towers
A day I'll remember a lifetime

You fall in love instantly
It just takes you time to realise

The Christians came
Our God sent us!
Were on a crusade just killing stuff
If you don't have a Christian cross
You will have to have your head cut off

The Pope you see he ruled the world
So he thought till Jerusalem.
The Kingdom of Heaven here upon earth
Soaked in blood where Muslims fell
A holy war they said it was
****** kids so they don't grow up

All things cycle all things change
It was Allah's time once again
Saracens, butchers barbarians too
The names they gave Saladins troops

Though when the city fell to him
He gave passage to all to leave in peace
He afforded a gift no Christian did
Love and life to practice your faith

If history teaches one good thing
The hearts of men are everything
All a soul can ever be
Is deep inside you and me

The crusaders brought a holy war
To a peaceful state for a bigoted cause
A Pope who wanted lands and wealth
Nothing more nothing less

I spoke to a friend today
She asked how was life in my world
Topics a many were discussed and disected
Failures and love and feeling dejected
Does it all come down to to just one thing?
A few inches of flesh and some physical thing
It's a lottery finding the one who fits
And not just in the place where the G spot sits
Goldilocks only had a choice of three ?
For us it's many and a lottery
Small , tall round or plump
Does it all come down to delivering *****

Life is a game some say
Well games have rules don't they?
Do we simply play with people?
With or against?
Is that the all of our existence?
Do we try to win?
Win what? Love? Money? Position? Just what?
In doing so, with each win, we loose.
To believe different reveals a fool.
The best we can ever hope to achieve is life without fear.
Fear of loss, hunger, poverty, loneliness, hurt and emotions many.
Be it selfishly of with others empathy.
Know when you play this game, and roll the dice, move your piece, change your position in this life.
Tell your story, play YOUR game, choose a side or shy away.
Remember this and this alone.
The game will end, when is beyond your control.
All you have done, achieved, lost or found, loved, desired, or craved, wanted or needed, shouted or screamed for or just remained silent over.
It's all gone, because this was never your game
We're only players each the same
Rolling the dice
Again and again
Again
And
Again

Half full?
Half empty?
Why are we so obsessed with measure?
If your blindfold, can you tell?
Does it taste any different?
What of the smell?
So dont measure what you think you have
Or what is gone
Treasure what you have instead
Someday it will be gone

Throughout history the wolves have always been at the door
Always waiting for an opertune moment to strike
Be they wolves disguised, or in plain sight
Always there
Always waiting

But there have always been men and women who step up to face them
without question
Shepherds in another way

A thin blue line stood between all that we cherish and those who would take that away, one attack at a time.

One of that blue line stood and did his duty.
He stood where others ran
He looked into the eyes of the wolves and did not falter
He stood fast to protect his sworn flock
He died in a battle for good.
Keith Palmer
The Good Shepherd

Ever wake and realize it's gone
Not just gone I mean GONE
You have drifted on like a train wreck
Looking for a place to happen
A culmination of ostrich behaviour
A summary of ignoring signs
The last post plays in the distance
The day you realize you can't do this
Not just another day, not another week
Not at all
You play over how to plan the escape in your mind
You can't call it suicide, but they will
You find you stare at trees "bit of rope" job done
Or walk barefoot on the shore, further out all the time
The third rail is looking good !
Tablets and *****, ***** and razor, or all three
What makes it worse is the "Oh we wish we knew"
The oh his poor wife oh the children
Why do you think he did it!

The Bath was the option chosen
I never knew why he did it
I just cleaned up afterwards
Reassembled his torso
Bagged his belongings
I never knew why, never will
The note was a ramble to me
I guess a last eruption of emotion
I think I've had days as bad
Where sadness drowns you
Fear chases you
Emptiness overpowers logic
But here I am and he is gone
Who was the bravest
He had his great escape

I was once asked the difference between good and bad.
After a while I said
You may not know you're doing good.
But you will always know if you're doing bad.
He slapped me.
That was my last ever brush with the catholic church.

True story

Lucy lived alone.
She had, now in her later years, become so used to being her own company, that the complexities of relationships seemed now just a distant memory to her.
There had been love in her life.  Oh such love! With the fire and intensity of Greek tragedy, but it was never to be long term or "The one."
She had grown to believe that was the stuff of fairy stories and Disney  and always happened to others not her.
Lucy had worked hard all her life, seldom saw her children now after years of trying to provide for them and she just plodded on doing the best she could each day. Her marriage long ago crumbled, no one's fault really they just drifted apart as the kids grew up.
Then the day came that rocked her world. Now alone, this wasn't something she could fix. The Dr was clear. Not years, not months, but weeks.
So she came upon a plan. She always fixed things so she wasn't going to leave the kids any burden.
Rather than leave it all for someone else to sort out she had an idea. She decided to have a giveaway day!
She posted in the local paper and social media.
"All free to good homes."
And how they came. Strangers mostly. The poor the greedy the needy and the curious. They took her life's possessions apart and made them part of theirs. Like vultures they had picked the bones leaving very little even her underwear found new homes.
She had given close friends the car and bigger things too. But by the end of that day, there was little left to be done but put the house up for sale. Her work was done. No burden to anyone. She was content.

As Lucy began closing the door, there at the gate, stood a young girl about 16, looking at her with big eyes and a soft smile. Now curious Lucy walked down the path towards her.
Her smile was beautiful, no it was captivating. Alas try as she might, Lucy couldn't place the girl asking "Can I help?"
In a soft voice she replied
"I saw the advertisement"
"I'm so sorry, it's all gone now." Lucy replied.
The girl smiled and said
"No, I brought you something Lucy"
She walked up the path meeting  half way. She asked Lucy to close her eyes tightly and put her hands out.
Lucy laughed and did what she bid her do. She knew her name.  It must be a prank one of her friends had put her up too.
Surprised, Lucy felt the girl's arms embrace all around her. She held her like no one ever had. Warmth and love Lucy had never experienced in her life. The girl whispered "This is for you Lucy." Lucy held her so tightly not wanting it to end.

The next day a neighbour found Lucy on the lawn. She was cold and lifeless, a gentle smile upon her face looking up into the sky. There was only one more thing he noticed. A single white feather on Lucy's chest. He reached out to pick it up and as he closed his fingers, it disappeared as though it had never been there.

How do classify the human zoo? Those that ride on mowers or walk behind? Those that garden or pay others too sythe?
How would we label the cage doors? Narcissist, liar, cheat or *****?
Swindler, thief, wife beater and more?
Or would we label them like science does now with sociopath, psychopath and criminally insane all herded together till they **** again.
Where would we put the lost and forgotten? Disabled deformed and afflicted in ways you can't imagine.
We walk each day in the human Zoo, now two meters apart as we all queue. The thin the obese the tall and the sort all hunting for big roll and pasta too hoard. But while you stand just look around, for the next Jeffrey Dahmer could be two meters behind!

Some dads hide and are never there.
Others try to make it work.
Some are blocked and lied about.
Others never gave a ****.
Some are just an ATM to pay without a thankful word.
For some that all becomes to much and then they shed this mortal coil.

Write words down that you can't say on paper each and every day.
Drop them into a great big jar
Read them months later and release them and cleanse the soul
Or depress the **** out of yourself
They did burn well though

To hot! To cold!
Goldilocks said when trying porridge before her bed.
To soft! To hard!
Sleep would be a drama as well.
You see not everything in life fits the way it ought.
I don't mean material things like a couch or a rug.
It's the things you can't buy, like how he gives a hug.
Its the way arms wrap around you or the feeling from her kiss.
It's more than just the motions its the way two lovers fit, energy's in balance a rare thing that it is.
So goldilocks I guess was right when she knew what she didn't want, if the missing piece isn't there, is there any point.
Imagine it's like Christmas but on any other day, you crave to hold them in your arms and feel complete again.
So ask me when it's Christmas?
I say that I don't know.
For until i've found the right pieces my hearts as cold as snow.
So that's my theory, it's the jigsaw of love and life.
If you melt into each others arms I think you have it right.
My only reservation? Well if you get it wrong and try to make the pieces fit with someone who is not the one.
I guess some will fit, as you begin to complete the puzzle, but struggling for years to finish will only cause you trouble.

When I was born it was 66 The Beatles were trying to work it out. The sounds of silence crossed the ocean and
These boots are made for walking, set the rebel scene as teenagers went to war.
Elsewhere they said the sun ain't gonna shine anymore and wanted Somebody to help me. You don't have to say you love me and Pretty flamingos were all about.
Then the war in Asia had the ballad of the green berets a **** storm clouded all their minds and paint it black made people think of those who didn't come back.
Then stranger in the night and when a man loves a woman were sung to make us forget.
You can't hurry love so reach out ill be there made the summer of love seem good again.
The paper back writter took the last train to Clarksville on the poor side of town where the song on the radio just keeps me hangin on.
But in the end December came and ended on a high. Good vibrations from the beach boys was merry xmas to all.