If ….

If all the knives in the house were bread knives

with what would we butter our toast.

If all the knives in the house were matches

with what would we cut out vegetables.

If all the knives were the same

what a grace-less act it would be enjoy a simple meal

and a horrendous ordeal to chop the wood with a table knife.

If you and I were the same,

of what use is the day and night?

All for nought would be the

strings of silence played by the mid-night breeze.

All for nought the

chorus of birds at the command of a rising sun.


A hearty welcome to all new followers, viewers and faithful virtual friends, you gladden my heart. On this quest were many cry ‘abandon this infatuation’ I sincerely appreciate all those who haven’t dissented.

Happy Easter.

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Slain

On the altar of hope lies a crimson heart

char my doubts,

pray the wind at dawn scatter my ashes 

unto distant shores of pleasant pastures.

it wails.

∗∗∗

On the shores of an abyss lies a patched mind

swallow my pain,

pray  the waves at dusk snatch my memory

into depths unknown from which none shall return

it wails.

∗∗∗

On the cross of forgiveness lies a broken body

salvage my wounds

pray the dew of heaven nourish my flesh

healing every crevice blotting out every scar

it cries.

∗∗∗

On the altar of love, a voice beckons … 

’tis but for a season’ this too …

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Gaping love

She asked,

Where are the scars on your heart,

the bruise on your soul.

Where are the welt marks on your back,

the weeping ulcers on your heels.

A prove of

how far you would walk 

how much you would endure 

how much you would weep

if you lost my love

He replied,

I would walk the deep to prove it to you

But I wonder, would your heart let you recognize it?

Would the image in your mind 

embrace the image before you?

Perhaps your soul craves a martyrs love 

before the love of a mere mortal.

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The 21st century prayer

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my iPhone 6 to keep.

Taking sleep selfies through the night,

Growing my social media likes by hundreds till the morning light.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my youth to preserve.

If I age before I wake,

I pray the Lord my botox and wardrobe the charade to continue.

ooooOOOOOoooo

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
Bless this laptop on my bed.
Before I post this picture online,
I give myself to Photoshop. 

Four credit cards on the left,
Four debit cards on the right,
One to buy those shoes, one to get the latest couture (or at least the best imitation),
And two to bear my warped up self away.

I go by sea, I go by land,
The Lord made them for me to indulge.
If any bills should come to me,
Sweet Jesus send me more credit cards.

For A listers and followers are the branch and I’m the flower,
I pray God Utopia to some day find.
And if I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord to leave on a bang.

ooooOOOOooo

The line between comfort and covetousness is very thin.


I like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s followed my blog recently, your following means a lot. And to all the one’s who have stayed faithful since the journey began, thank you ever so much,  your loyalty shown in comments, likes and pingbacks in a world with such fickle temperaments in very refreshing.

Thank you!

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Stay refreshed.

 

Turning tides

A single stone rightly aimed

is stronger than heavy armor in battle

turning the tides with precision.

oooOOOooo

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Oh what a tease you’re

going back and forth as though you’ve

no aim, mischievous as ever.

oooOOOooo

Wash over my soul, cleanse

me from within. Wash over my body

rid me of his stench.


 

 

Written for TJ Paris haiku challenge – tide.

Holding on

Holding unto something or someone

who doesn’t want to stay with you

is like holding unto expired food,

soon it starts to poison you.

Willful destruction on your part

perhaps un-willful on theirs.

It’s good to stand by your choices,

It’s better to know when your choices have forsaken you,

It’s best to know why you’re standing by those choices.

 

 

 

Grow the account

Lay them not in hindsight

nor in apology, but in loves bank.

Strengthen the bouquet, againgst mephitic deeds.

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Written for TJ P aris haiku challenge – bouquet.

For all the soliders and the one’s who have gone beyond as a result of conflict or hate.

This week I went a  word above the usual, sorry.

Images copyright Livehomeanaway. Found the poor bird dead on the side walk and the poppy in a neighbours backyard.