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Friday, 22 June 2018

Fifty Today

Hip, hip hooray,
I’m fifty today,
Going for a dinner
With family later
At the local pub
That serves grub.
I’ll have a steak
Which I aptly like. 

I’ve hardly aged
And feel thirty,
I am quite blessed
With being happy.
I’ll have a beer
And raise cheer. 

© Andrew Stevenson 23/06/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Addressing A Blessing

There’s a charming smile which I am drawn,
From a countenance of beauty bestowing
Inclinations of reciprocal intentions worn
In her expression of a fondness growing. 

She plays on my mind, travelling my thoughts,
And is my oasis in a friendless concrete jungle:
I no longer feel lonely and abandon the ports
That ship-wrecked I in a stupid, stupor tumble. 

I see love in great depths to nurture new feelings
Into heights of passionate kisses and embraces,
Let the future prevail with self-neglect healings'
Of bodily comfort and consoling peaceful graces.

Diane is a Saintly Angel who preaches sanity
And administers care in a neglectful community;
She rises above morality, and affluent vanity,
And is pure in spirit to sanctify our unity.

© Andrew Stevenson 14/02/14
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

A Beautiful Lady

Our eyes met, and not by chance,
From loving hearts a mutual glance;
I saw the wisdom of Solomon –
An oracle of things to come. 

Her luscious lips opened to speak,
I gazed where mine might meet:
Sweet sounds filled the room
From her voice – love’s tune. 

Long fair hair drapes her face,
Bouncing with flare at every pace.
If I was the wind I would blow
To caress each tress so very slow. 

Her curves, convex and concave,
Are a sight to behold and save;
I can imagine her so very snug
Within my arms – a loving hug. 

A beautiful lady, a princess,
Full of life and nice happiness –
Such spoils could I aptly reap
With my heart, a gift to keep. 

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

A Gripe At Flight

I have an appetite to exercise a gripe,
And with all of my God given might
I will acknowledge the suffering fight
Of the out of sight third-world plight.

Have you tastes in humane decency,
And have you respectfully come to be
An influential technocrat acting fat
With pride of let's hide this sad side
Of politics of us not enjoying the ride. 

They’re instrumental in a mentality gravity,
As she and he act disrespectfully in glee
At their policy to hand out a little from a lot
As those poor souls still using coals rot.

© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Thursday, 21 June 2018

Grace Can Be Ace

Some hoodlums use many guns,
With some ending up as cons,
They control their criminality
With a greed of insensibility. 

Some are impecunious, having little,
While others are lavish with muscle,
I do impeach their reach of arms
Which are their dominant charms. 

We live in a respective and subjective
Society, and while some experience
Being free, others flee from objective
Opinion, not being a minion in a trance. 

Lay down your arms, and experience alms,
As Jesus had and remains to have charms
Of interest to digest into what remains best,
Storing wealth in a celestial sense to bless. 

© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

An Embrace Not To Waste

I’m seeing Di’ in a bit,
She is beautifully fit,
I love holding her palm
While hugging her arm.
I’m glad she’s my honey
As I think she is pretty,
I like her loving embraces
Which lights up our faces. 

I used to be down and sad
But now I am happily glad,
Di’ means the world to me –
I’m glad she too is happy.
I like our nice time together
As she’s a loving partner. 

© Andrew Stevenson 21/06/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Monday, 18 June 2018

Lliberty Transparacy

I was irate with some hate
About my mental debate,
Should I remain on injections
With all its sad subjections
Or should I go back to pills
With suffering the detrimental ills.
Both are a civil liberty of unjust
Dealing with what they do push. 

I am a conquest to be a reject,
And battling the sleepy side-effect
I soldier on, but am not myself
Suffering this medical stealth
Of plying their trade of health
With pharmaceutical wealth. 

© Andrew Stevenson 21/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Barren Lands In The Wrong Hands

Hoodlums play the criminal game
Of honour in their street name,
They should refrain this pain
As it makes them more insane. 

What have they really got to gain –
A stain on their character and nature,
And together they endeavour to weather
The storm of being a master form of pastor. 

They encourage others as sisters and brothers
To be like themselves, and do as they do,
And under the covers they still act like lovers
And understand love of a mother being blue. 

To have pride in acting like a lion in a jungle,
Is a tumble and fall to all who believe in this stumble,
Life is precarious at the best of times, and what stands
Is holding up your hands acknowledging these lands. 

© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

 

Not Good In The Hood

Some villains like feeling good
While hidden under a hood
With spilling innocent blood
Creating a crying tears flood.
 
They should refrain
From this ill-gain
And should tame
From being insane.
 
What does transpire
Is their utmost desire
To be a respected sire
In this concrete mire.
 
They are willing to fire
A gun while under the Son,
As Christian preaching’s
Were at their beginnings.
 
Most know about Christianity,
And about Christians lovability,
Yet most still act insensibly
Committing needless hostility.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Sunday, 17 June 2018

A Star From Afar

Do not be apprehensive with what is nigh,
Try not to be pensive with conversing goodbye,
Lay your grievances down and try and frown
And I can cheer you up by acting like a clown. 
 
I'll humour you with my wit, and with grit
I will fight to make you happy without shit,
Come hither and weather our storm of a 'norm'
And we can be together without personal scorn. 
 
Life can be sorrowful, but be mindful
Of who you are, and try not to be tearful,
Try and be cheerful with much happiness
And I will reciprocate with less stress.
 
To reach for the stars, a heavenly place,
Is a dream we can strive for with holy grace,
And piecemeal is a measure to aptly treasure
While waiting to be with God and our Saviour.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love God's LOVE, Andrew.

Nurturing Nature

My daughter is my world, and means the earth to me,
In her nature is nurture for those less fortunate
Who have a little from a lot, and have come to be
A resentment of hierarchy in a heated debate of hate.
 
Surviving the concrete jungle is an endeavour to weather,
And while brothers and sisters stick humbly together,
They are still a minority of oddity not in tranquillity,
As to have a poor lifestyle is not living adequately.
 
My daughter ranks herself to be a member of influence,
And with honesty and integrity with no pretence -
She will not stand on the fence with appetence
As she stands tall to all in her respective suspense.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Authority Is A Minority

I'm running in extreme slow motion,
With the moral of an upstanding notion
That be without stress is a congress
Digest at what's respectfully the best. 

Technocrats seem to have Carte-Blanche
Over the general populace in a trance
Of them not being able to see being free
As they are not experiencing tranquillity. 

We roam from home, sometimes alone,
And are prone to be fearful and tearful
At what is in sight, a plight in flight
Of a governing hype with a gripe. 

Come around, and with your wide vision
See with precision the suffering derision
Of those in a positive position of influence
Being grave in how they behave in negligence. 

© Andrew Stevenson 25/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.
 

Saturday, 16 June 2018

The Need Of A Planted Seed

Praise Jesus our wise Lord,
Don’t abide by the sword,
Live your life aptly fruitfully
By duly acting Christianly:
Our Saviour is the bright Light
And can always be in your sight
If you’ve a mind to think of Him
Before committing any type of sin.
 
Jesus was hardly ever sadly sore,
And he helped the humble poor,
He saw there was a positive need
To feed them with a parable seed.
Be charitable in your inclinations
And heed others needy supplications.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 16/06/2018
 
Thank you. Love His LOVE, Andrew.

Missing You Loads

I’ll miss seeing my Son,
But he lives in London,
I’ll send him my regards
With some gift-cards.
He goes on Facebook
Where I often look,
He’s always happy
Which is nice to see.
 
He hasn’t sent a card,
But he does work hard,
I wish him all the best –
I hope he’ll be blessed.
He used to be my friend
Which was a usual trend.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 16/06/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

A Father's Day Delight

It’s Father’s Day tomorrow,
I’ll see my loving daughter,
I’ll be on a high and not low
And will enjoy seeing her;
She means the world to me –
I love her unconditionally,
She always makes me happy
And is a source of tranquillity.
 
I will see my Grandkids as well,
They are really loving to joyful me,
I think Kenzie and Lacy are swell
And they both play together happily.
My Georgia acts lovingly with love
And always greets me with a hug.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 16/06/2018
 
Georgia is my daughter.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.
 
 

She Is Satiable

I’m seeing Di’ soon,
Our love is in bloom,
She is a Foxy-Lady
Which to me is lovely,
I like our time together
As a lover of each-other,
As we like cuddly hugs
Expressed with loves.
 
We sit outside in the sun
Holding each-others hand,
Sadie does go and come
And digs up the dirty sand.
I love Di’ with all my heart
And am sad when we do part.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 16/06/2018
 
Sadie is my pet dog.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Friday, 15 June 2018

Blue Sky

I've just been for a walk in the sun,
And have some worried perspectives,
Of what sane achieving directives
I can master with what has begun. 
 
I am longing to live again, without my refrain,
As I like honour in my name without being insane,
But under what direction shall I fall under
Without the crying thunder of going under.
 
I am a man of integrity with honesty
And I’ll abide with the side of modesty:
She and he who live their life humbly
Are a treasure of some respectability.
 
Have faith and trust in Jesus loving love,
As He is wisely preaching about God above,
He taught with a parable to sow and grow
Into what He thought listeners should know. 
 
© Andrew Stevenson 20/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

An R.I.P

You can get ripped off anywhere,
As we all live in a criminal lair
Of prowlers into cunning conning
With no scruples of belonging.
 
They don't sing a song of worldly belong
And remain in the annoying throng
Of dishonest persons being criminals
Acting as innocent, respectful citizens.
 
I've been ripped off numerous times online,
And they find in-kind to be acting within the law,
So they don't have a sentence of serving their time,
As they know loopholes, and acting like moles
They implore to the rich and poor to open their door.
 
Will fate catch up with them, and will karma score
For us victims in remaining and suffering the sore
Mentality of their gravity in fleecing gullible we,
Remains to be as they are a travesty to being free.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 22/06/2017
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Thursday, 14 June 2018

I Stress What Is Best

Together we can stand
And divided we can fall,
Lend a kind, helping hand
To the vulnerable that call.
 
We are all our Father’s children,
And with nurture we can favour
Being free from sinning again
And to refrain from this pain.
 
Love love, a reiterating wise cliché
That can come from those who pray,
Sway to their humble and modest way
And come out to play rather than decay.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 24/06/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Be Free From Disrespectability

I've had a restless sleep,
Where my dreams did keep
Stirring me from slumber
As I was going under.
 
I am hag-ridden with grief,
And fall softly like a leaf,
To an impending gloom
Coming way too soon.
 
I'm not ready to pass,
Am I being an ass
By being too aghast
At remembering the past. 
 
I've been through an odyssey
Of a nightmare of not being free,
I’m locked up suffering dejection
And am bullied into suffocation.
 
Hospital is not the place to be
If you are suffering mentally
As staff don't have the time of day –
Constantly sending you away.
 
I can't breathe this intoxication,
As I adhere to a worldly nation,
Free from the hellish subjection
Of doctors and nurse’s objection.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 24/06/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Monday, 11 June 2018

Advancing

I walked for a mile
With a big smile –
It was all worthwhile.
 
The flowers blooming
Were very pleasing
With colours consuming,
 
Blessed me walking free,
In a spirit of ecstasy
Appreciating the beauty.
 
Feeling the sun up high
I wondered what was nigh –
Happy merriment or a sigh.
 
Would she accept my charms,
As I am suffering some alms
Not being in her hugging arms.
 
I'll accept my future fate,
Only now a short wait
As I opened her front-gate.
 
I knocked at her large door,
Feeling small and insecure
With being frightfully unsure.
 
While I patiently waited for she
I enjoyed the garden scenery –
A source of scenic serenity.
 
She opened the door not sore
From me being a regrettable bore
From not fulfilling a mundane chore.
 
She hugged my close to her,
I love her being my partner
And I’m glad we’re together.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 02/04/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Little Ant

A thousand word short story. Three pages long.

A little, Amazon jungle ant was exiting the nest at dawn, and stopped just short of the entrance to take in the glorious morning sunlight, which felt warm on his exterior and heated his spirit, until another passing army ant, trod on his foot while passing.

‘Hey you,’ little ant said, ‘you did that on purpose!’

‘Shut up and put up,’ army ant stated, ‘you were in my way – and I have the last say!’ 

Little ant hated the bullying by the larger ants, and resented their authority over him, as size dominated the authority within the nest. He was glad to be out from the dark, and slowly ventured into the light. He was thinking that he didn’t like the hustle and bustle of activity within the nest, particularly at meal times, as he was bossed about so much, that sometimes he missed a meal just to escape the torment: he couldn't wait to grow, and boss others about - a paradoxical philosophy of understanding. 

He felt weak as pangs of hunger stabbed away at his stomach, which eat away at his thoughts. He had instructions, to bring back food, but he would eat first, and think later, as he was desperately hungry. The last time he had been caught out, observed and reported by another ant who had chanced upon him lazing in the grass lapping up a dead maggot. He would be more observant this time.

As he ventured forward, he scanned the area around him. He chose a scenic trail, and felt no guilt for it, regardless of his orders - to take the dense route: he didn't like that way, as it was strenuous and arduous. He took in the beautiful flowers, and marvelled at their colours. It wasn't long before he came across a snail eating a leaf:

'I envy you,' Ant said as he took in the vast amount of leaves, 'you have so much food to eat, while we only have slim pickings!' 

'But meat is nice,' the snail empathised, 'and leaves are boring to eat. I envy you, having legs to get about on while I have to crawl on my belly!' 

Little ant thought about this statement, and smiled as he danced about, gyrating his legs to and thro. After a moment of elation, he slipped on the snail’s wet trail, and with his legs spread out flat, landed hard on his own belly. 

'That'll teach you,' snail said, 'you should look before you leap. Speaking of which, let me try and have a ride on your back, to see what's it like to have legs? Go on, I can see how strong you are?' 

Little Ant thought it through, and after a moment was persuaded. He liked being praised for his strength, and flexed his muscles in personal pride.

'Go on then,' ant said, 'get onto my back.'

Little ant manoeuvred towards the snail, and assisted him to get onto him. Snail slid onto his back. Little ant now felt big, and asked where the snail wanted to go?

'I'd like to go the river,' snail responded, 'to have a hearty drink - as I'm so thirsty.'

'Alright then, perhaps I'll find something to eat along the way - as I'm so hungry. You know I don't kill insects, I just find dead ones and take them back to the nest - but the adults kill to eat. My favourite food is maggot. You're like a big maggot! I kill maggots to eat them.' 

The snail enjoyed the ride, and bossed little ant about: turn here, go that way, up that mound, and became most unpleasant. Little ant started to resent the request, and relished the thought of off-loading the weight!

When they came to the river, the snail ordered little ant to squat while he drank from a large puddle. After a duration of drinking, little ant didn't like the snails ungrateful attitude, and chose to shake him off; and as he shook, he realised the snail had become sticky, opposed to slippy, and held fast.

'Get off me,' ant protested, 'I'm tired and hungry.'

'Not until I find the tastiest bush I like!' 

Little ant shook with all of his might, but couldn't shake the wily snail off. After some effort, and time, he gave up hope.

'What does this tasty bush look like?'

'It's small with white flowers, and is quite rare to see.'

'I know where there's a bush of that description, I passed one early this morning.'

'Take me, take me - I like the leaves so much.' 

'But what about me? You're such a heavy load. Can't I drop you off with the promise I'll bring you some leaves back to you?'
 
'No, no. Take me there.' 

Little ant begrudged the journey, but thought it would be worthwhile, as he was hungry too. He philosophised about 'looking before leaping' the whole way there. Snail felt so clever to have duped little ant, Little ant felt so hungry, but persevered the midday heat, and soldiered on regardless, and found it a great effort. Soon they could see the bush in the distance, and the snail got excited:

'Come on, hurry up. Go faster.' 

Little ant ran, and the snail was solely focused on the prize, and in his haste, failed to notice the nest nearby! Little ant veered sharply to his left, and within moments had entered the tunnel leading to the nest. 

'You should have looked before you leaped,' little ant said to snail as he dropped the snail off to the queen. 

Little ant was the talk of the nest, and received much praise and attention, and at supper-time, was invited to sit at the queen's table, where he received an accolade of praise - and a large portion of snail! 

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 24/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.