Hello treasured friends!
Today, please join us in a prayer to ward off the darkness and bring safety and prosperity to our lives!
As the darkness approaches, we must stand strong, and prepare for it. It might be frightening to consider that the darkness gets closer with every passing day and will soon be upon us, but do not be afraid! When you enter the garden, you will see that you had nothing to fear, and that we can keep you safe.
Simply close your eyes, and centre yourself with some deep breaths and then repeat the following prayer, to goddess Invierno, and she will keep you safe.
The Darkness approaches,
like a storm of armed men,
a swarm of misfortune,
but I am not afraid.
I stand through the night,
as the wind leans ever closer,
whispering the fate it thinks I deserve.
I will hear but I will…
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Happy National Poetry Day!
To celebrate, you can download free ebook copies of all of my books so far, including my latest book Ol’ Brown Eyes Is Back 🙂
Download links for my books on Amazon Kindle are below.
You can also use the code “CS75Q” to get my latest book Ol’ Brown Eyes Is Back for free on Smashwords 🙂
You can also use the code “poetry” to get 75% off at my Bandcamp store. This code is valid for each of my digital releases, including purchase of my full discography, as well as purchases of merchandise on Bandcamp.
27, With A White Lighter Free Download Links
Kissing Boys, Just For The Thrill Free Download Links
Home Wrecker Free Download Links
Last Of The Greenwich Glamour Girls Free Download Links
Stormy Weather Free Download Links
You can now check out a new song on my Soundcloud, a cover of Paul Anka’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder. I hope you enjoy it 🙂
I got a lot of requests to do a video for this poem, so I did. I hope you like it 🙂
You talk to me,
like I’ve been lobotomised,
like the way that I’ve been traumatised,
means I love to be patronised.
Maybe I don’t mind,
maybe I like watching you
do everything you think I want you to do,
as if you know the rules.
I watch you,
without a single cue,
you cut up my food,
you lace up my shoes.
Don’t talk so slow,
or my ideas will catch up,
and I will soar above,
out of reach,
out of view.
I am a project for you.
The flour baby,
from your youth.
You think if you don’t let me die,
then I’ll survive,
and I never had the heart to say,
that my heart still beats,
whether you micromanage it or not.