Lately, I’ve been hanging around with a lot of fellow Pagans. Some questions have entered my brain, and I haven’t asked them yet, mostly because I’d like to get them sorted in my head first, so here goes. I’ll start off with me. I wear and use a lot of natural products and by-products: Leather, wood, paper, things like that. It got me wondering if it was really ethical for me as a Pagan to do so, and then I remembered one...

There was a man,a man with a can.A man with a can and a plan.This man, he collected money,this man, he collected smiles,but deep inside him was fear.Fear of rejection,fear of death,fear of not living to see his daughter again.He collected cash,sold his possessions,yet still he had not enough. He hitch-hiked his way across the plains,those vast, unending desert plains,those vast, unending, unforgiving desert plains,he walk...

Another day, more work.Tiredness looms around the corner,yet I do my duty. People buzz around,coming and going. Everyone has their own agenda,their own mission. Mine? To write poems. Data entry just fills a dull hole,but stories and poemsfill my soul. I watch as people watch me,unaware that they may featurein a story or poem. The wet and windy day outsidejust serves to inspire me more,though I do wish the wind would shut...

My mind is blank,As I write this verse,though it would be,I'm in a hearse.I was pushed in a stank*,and left to rot,and when I was found,I was covered in trot.A terrible woehas befallen me,and I don't think anyone will come. Not even family.I float around and I see my beau,goodness, it's her!She's sad, but gorgeous,and wearing faux fur.I've left her behind,the only woman who I ever loved,and her tears she's wiping,with a h...

I bought a guitar on Friday. This is no ordinary, straight out-of-the-box, ready to play thing. Nope, it’s knackered. I bought a knackered guitar? Why the buggeration? Well, because I wanted the challenge of fixing it up. It has no electronics, no bridge, no scratch plate and the machine heads are really loose. The neck is in good shape, but the paintwork on the body is shoddy. I plan on upgrading as much as I can and kee...

I inspired myself. It was so weird, looking at a forum topic, named “what’s your passion?” And being inspired by it. Well, I shall tell you my passion: Shaving. I know it doesn’t seem like it, when my face is all fuzzy, but I do enjoy a good shave. Usually, I like to keep a wee goatee and shave the rest. I also shave other parts of me, but you don’t really need to know that, so forget I said that. What could impassion me...

Die!A bloody battlecry.Kill!A deathly command.Swords clash,sinew, bone, heads shattered,death for the sake of land.Ceasefire!Nobody listens.An eternal battle blazes on.Millions of men, women, children.Dead.No hope for an ending,no thought to how it began.Lost to the battle.Through the years,methods of war change.Warmongers come and go,victims forgotten,though the death stays the same.War is stupid,wasteful,sinful.

Over the years, I’ve been asked by quite a few people how to meditate. Each time I mention that I meditate, I’m bound to be asked how to do it. I’ll tell you how I, personally, meditate. Bear in mind, that my way will differ from other people’s. This is not an exact definitive guide, but more like a little advice that I’ve noticed works for myself and may well work for you. The first step is to go somewhere relaxing. It c...

The Lady of Absolution...She tastes pink.That familiar burn is there,the way it goes through me.There's a gentleness to this one,delicate, though strong. She deceives youinto thinking she's innocent. My Lady, you're far from innocent!You make me feel far from innocent.Sexy feelings and thoughts rush through my head,about Aria and my bed. Fuelled by a heady combination:My mind, Lady Vodka and Aria herself. I'm liking this...

Those nights when you just want to sleep. In this instance, I can't because I don't want to miss my alarm, so can't seem to sleep deeply enough. So I've picked up my phone, and started writing about it. It's thoughtless and stupid. I've no idea if this thing will tail off, or turn into something, but it's worth investigating with both hands. I can't sleep. Beep, beep, beep, goes the smoke alarm. The battery needs replacin...

Imagine how funny it would be if a woman called Jaffa, married a man with the surname Cake. I have a problem with that. Not because it might be misconstrued as racist, because that’s just stupid. It’s just a name! No, what I do have a problem with, is that women have to change their names when they marry. That’s pretty bloody old fashioned, and sexist. When I marry, I’m taking her name. We’re taking each other’s. Yeah, we...

I slapped a man, he slapped me back,I don't know why; it was out of whack.He then asked me "got any smack?"So to him, I said "only got crack."I'm in a jail cell now,should have realised he was a cop,I'm such a silly cow,and now the judge, his gavel he will bop,for selling drugs to an undercover cop.Ten years later, I'm out of prison,revenge I shall have,just you wait,I'll bide my time,then unleash my hate.I've found my ma...

"You got what for my mother?""A vibrator.""Why?""She was complaining about her sore feet.""So you bought her a vibrator?""I was trying to help!"The wife chased her husband out of the house. He ran until he lost her, then made his way back home, once he was sure she had stopped chasing. Looking at the present, the woman realised her mistake."Aw, bless him," she smiled, her eyes welling up.She found him wandering and confus...

I fucking hate my poetry. I love it, too. It's so bloody banal. It has been said that poetry reveals what is in your heart... Or was ir your soul? Whatever. My heart must be filled with weird, comic, lovely, shite. It has also been said that poetry is so subjective, that it is difficult to accurately judge. So... Why am I judging my poetry? Because I'm a harsh judge of my own self. If that sentence was any less well-writt...

Oh, Vodka!How I pine for thee.For a man with no money,cannot drink his Lady!I miss your burn,your delicate palate,that crack as the bottle opens.I miss the intoxicating aroma,and the weight of the glass.It always starts the same:I wash my glass,then pour my Lady.When I pick up the glass,I hold it to my lips,slowly tilt,and breathe you in.You suffuse my being,warming me,making love to me.That first sip,I just let lingeron...