Ravenheart

Carrying a vicarious redemption on behalf of someone else is a burdensome weight the preachers daughter still carries hers each moment of every day a beautiful quiet soul who was given the sin substitution by her callous caretakers , her atonement isn't due any time soon.

Every experience through the innocent eyes of a child can be quite terrifying now as an adult even death is placed into a casual calm context your maker might as well be your baker.

Sooner than later we as a species will have to address our crazy situation of over population , due to land perishing and pollution in the final stages we may very well end up as refugees building our own blood lined barricades of revolution .

A musing about giving your offspring a strong polysyllabic sounding name something that will inspire them to aspire towards fortune and fame.

The fear is now definitely here , our café laite life styles are over and we are living in isolation cells similar to the Trappist monk our beautiful secular society is all but defunk.

A short poem about lust that seemingly deadly sin that if the devil be shamed and the truth told is an instinctive desire that we all carry within .

Similar to an Eskimo fishing through a hole in the ice one could easily imagine a soul catcher waiting patiently at the edge of a black hole in order to capture our very essence , then freeze drying us in the absolute zero of infinity giving him our plasma concentrate life , we'd be ready for a re-nucleation or reconstitution, and what better freeze drying facility than the perfectly vacuumed packaging plant of space .

The human hunter gatherer brain is so very hard to truth train but maybe not if you start using the new silicon scopolamine dream and drip feed it daily with some digital dopamine served up from our omnipresent Turing machine.

A musing about two relative's who should never have entered into a doomed relationship due to their persuasions and personalities being planets apart one a reclusive miser and the other an extravagant extrovert ; perhaps now with the internet we might make a much better match.com or sexual selection of it with God Google's precision and profiling us to the last detail of our mortal minutiae it should make for some interesting parings that are not left to the seven senses of the sapien .

A poem about the rain cycle's continual celestial cleansing this perpetual purification of precipitation shows no discrimination of skin treating us all to the same asperging sanctification from sin .

A poem I wrote for a terribly crippled girl called Daniella she lived in agony all her life but there wasn't a day I didn't see her gorgeous smile or hear her wonderful laughter , she has a soul so beautiful the angels will definitely care , it certainly casts long shadows of perfection my own and many others .

Prostitution is one of the oldest professions in the world which was here before the four angels of Samuel it's about time the government took control of this sexual slavery let's face facts  the chancellor's been selling cigarettes and booze for hundred of years they're both forms of narcotics best not allow the criminals any room manoeuvre better to take over all their operations save these poor girls any more torture legalise their ancient profession too .

When you get to fifty something plus tax seemingly a sexy silver fox sporting those ashtray coloured locks you may want to forget about the fifty shades of grey and perhaps think of putting your sex pistols away .

A poem about emperors pope's and kings who believe themselves to be the devine demagoguery even as children they  had whipping boys  to take away their punishment and guilt, sacred scapegoats for them to stripe and slaughter ; If a devine deity did arrive on planet earth these mobsters and megalomaniacs would soon see them quickly murdered .

The reason the train left at a minute past midnight is because in Sheffield that time all the steel factories blew their whistles for the shift change and the train guards had to wait one minute for them to cease before they blew theirs , I left that Armageddon come apocalypse of destruction behind and never looked back the kids of today may need to do the same with their own silicon industrial Revolution .

A poem about men and their midwife crisis as a matter course men feel the need to try out a new horse so they get a divorce and set off in search of adventure usually riding a Harley-Davidson towards the sun and what they think will be some all new sexual fun .

All Medieval religions outlawed usury as a sin , profit of any kind wasn't allowed it still stands as a judgement against you today the road to perdition is going to be littered with alot of Gods righteous as well as the Devil's detritus.

Steve McQueen once said he came from the gutter and that he'd not done bad for an orphan boy . Every year he used to go back to the borstal where the bungalow boys beat him back into line he became head boy there then after a fifty different jobs from lumberjack, getaway driver, pimp and gunrunner etc he finally found his niche a Co star James garner called him crazy McQueen, Bruce Lee said he was the toughest son of a gun, and Robert Vaughn admitted he had what you can never train pure natural talent which a thousand years studying at RADA wouldn't give you The X factor, vulnerability and violence mixed with stunning sex appeal that gave men and women a red light late night hot sweat dreams. The photo is a mugshot taken from one of his many DWIs . Steve McQueen the semi deaf dyslexic kid from the streets he certainly was an still is an inspiration very similar to Sean Connery who also had a hard up bringing on the streets of Edinburgh it also gave him that cool confident charisma l to just be them selves and

A deadly sin this jade eyed Jekyll our secret  schadenfreude that hides within waiting to hatch out into its true reptilian skin .

A poem written about the suicidal tendencies of snails thay started out as jellyfish swimming free in wide open sea so I can now understand why bonded onto terrafirma they may suffer from depression or suicidal Tendencies throwing themselves to their deaths under our feet on every garden path or rain wet street .