Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up



That is enough to begin with, but words and worlds within me swirl.

You do not even realise how long you spend in a trance state (I wish not to be patronising, merely rhetorical, by stating it like this). In a trance state of one kind or another. If you accept that this is so, the screamingly important question you must address: WHAT IS HAPPENING WHILE YOU ARE IN TRANCE?

The prayer of one reminded by falling cherry blossoms of the taste of an absent lover.

A twinge of pain, my Lord

The merest twinge

Reminded by pink cherry blossoms swirling down under a dark breeze:

Her inner thigh

Curves up to a silky sweet moistness

Of pink lips and a deep, deep kiss.


As my calling is so very different (you may see in the profile, beginning blog users) from my unfortunate (or more likely blissfully ignorant and drugged out) predecessor , I begin now publishing poems here. I write, of course, the poems about love. Always.



As the result of a series of events (the story involves smuggling of arms and drugs, homosexual intimidation, bad gambling debts, and people who are stupid, young and on drugs) this domain has moved into control of myself, Ishmael Smith. ALSO HAS THE REALGEM ltd BUSINESS VENTURE. New announcements will be made soon.

(You will understand entries time-stamped earlier than this carry the initials I.:.S.:. but were previously signed to "Lazy", which is screen name of fucking Mikey - you may wish to explore the earlier entries to understand this character, although, I know him personally, I don't know why you would want to do this)