Wednesday, 30 May 2012




Country Seat


   ”Country Seat” in the Lake District (Cumbria, England) Isn’t this a serendipitous place for a bench? It will be 36 C/ 95 F today and (as always) soul-swamping, oppressively muggy and I would do morally reprehensible things for a ticket to the Lake District. (AndyC_pics flickr)


Saturday, 26 May 2012

It's So Sad

Oh its sad
I love you more than any guy I’ve ever had every time you came around I was glad
No matter how mad
I was glad,
And embellished with pride that you were mine..
You reminded me of someone,
it took me a while to figure it out..
When I did I was furious and mad
You remind me of my dad
Oh its sad that I’m in love with my dad.
This let’s me know that the men I chose to be in my life are emotionally deficient.
The lack of expression of your emotions left me guessing and suppressing my feelings not to out shine yours. I would always fill in the blanks of the things u wouldn’t express verbally..
Oh its sad I’m in love with my dad
Your inconsistencies made up for my in abilities
Your expressions made up for my seemingly wrong comprehensions
Its sad, I’m in love with my dad
And it makes me so FREAKING mad
Because that means I have become the statistic..
A replica of everything I despise
A metaphorical beating stick
Engulfed in the bliss of the past
Lost in the present
Forgetting that there is a future
Unable to embrace the sunshine of tomorrow
Bringing me so much sorrow
Leaving me to borrow
time,space, ANYTHING that would fill the void inconsistency, pain, anger, anguish,heartbreak and shame
This is no game
My heart isn’t an object you can just push off of the window pane
Its a gift, a treasure, an irreplaceable gem that I gave to you on purpose
But that doesn’t matter to you
You disregarded as if it had no value no merit no worth in your world
You just tossed it aside
Leaving my hearts rhythm to beat for a man who was marching to the sound of his own drum.
I always seem to fall for your type
And its sad because no matter what you do ill always love you
Oh it so sad so very very sad because I will always be in love with my dad.



I have run out of sugar and water

Standing in this abyss not knowing where to turn with no light in sight, I write this letter to you. I need you to understand that though things look bleak at this moment it won’t be like this forever.

You are phenomenal. You are a work of art specifically created, a masterpiece never to be duplicated or created ever again. I need you to know that you have the strength to do anything just get out of your way and get it done. Love every ounce of you; there is no one who will love you more than you. Your uniqueness make you beautiful, embrace it own it. You are wise and amazingly sweet, follow your heart but always carry your brain with you. You are not alone; though many have walked out of your life God said he will never leave you. In life you have always been told when life gives you lemons make lemonade! What they didn’t tell you is tht sometimes you can and will run out of sugar and water. This should be a problem for you because you have the strength and wisdom to survive. When it rains know that it is a blessing, go outside dance and enjoy the rain. Understand that it was sent to make you stronger and to give you the opportunity to dilute the lemons you have received. Just like the makes its honey, I need you to get up and make your honey; your lemonade will not sweeten itself. Embrace every opportunity given to you, take a risk, work hard and stick with it to the end ; the end result WILL be honey! Now, knowing your worth and abilities I want you to never fear any situation, sip your lemonade; reflect, revise and keep moving! Standing in this abyss I see light, finally realising that standing with closed eyes makes it impossible to see the light. I want you to walk with your eyes wide open, your head held high knowing that you are the author of your world, Write phenomenally!
With love


Friday, 25 May 2012

Outer Forest


Deep space, deep in the forest (by CostaDinos)


Tuesday, 22 May 2012

Monday, 21 May 2012

Fool Spirit


Notebook sketches. This page is just weird.


Old Night Owl

Thereafter hath began with conclusion for supper
My eyes seemed weary only one star protruded from the galaxy
End to new has arisen and black to white was now insight

I’ve seen the moth before on many a dark horizon
Approached me you did shy moth, you were gray in nature
Both inside and out forever shone brightly you have,
Friend of the night
Worry not of that bat in thy circle, it keeps its distance
Like it too, I’m proud of their presence and my outstretched hand
Wished for that graceful pitch
The cats stray quietly in the cinnamon grass and peppermint leaves
Streetlights clear, red, orange and the like
Stoplight hits green
You’ve accepted the petition my dear friend
Allowed you have the bat to stay, I now dance in the array of my friends’ glory
My friends are alike still different the same
Moth is a known dark horse and remains elusive and hidden in size
New friend of will you create havoc as my moth thought of you?
Black you are in appearance but I refuse to believe
Believe that you are just as thy presence speaks
Do thy words fool me or is it my ear that doesn’t accept the obvious as truth
Friends you are by species eternally entangled by the paths we fly

Copyright December2005 J.R. Thomas


Saturday, 19 May 2012

Thursday, 17 May 2012


Only In Jamaica… If you don’t get it I totally understand.




My life thread transplant was successful,
It’s all new inside.
I went back to life today the hues seem different,
I noticed the sun rose in the center.
A new day was born and our work must go on,
And we rose up acre after acre of gold, we harvested.

I’d like to hold your hand today, they seem softer.
Come with me let me share my rejuvenation,
Let me show you this place where the air is lighter.
Try me now I promise to be a new inspiration,
And if you practice I’ll be yours for ever more.
Harvest some more take until satisfaction.

I can see us now hands in hands along life rocky road,
We are perfect together new life, into extravagance we explode.
Will you accept me into your life a new page on which to write?
New canvas on which to draw, a new child to mold,
Come on over into my novelty and be reborn.
Don’t start over, build on a new foundation,
Rise up and harvest acre after acre of gold.
Copyright December2005 J.R. Thomas


Tuesday, 15 May 2012

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