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Sunday, 20 May 2018

Forty-Nine And Fine

Hip, hip hooray,
It’s my mate’s birthday,
He’ll celebrate
With a chocolate cake
And Carling beer
With his near and dear.
A year older
And somewhat wiser. 

It was nice to see family –
I enjoyed their company,
My mate had a barbeque
With nice meat to chew.
The kids were in a pool
To keep them very cool.

© Andrew Stevenson 20/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Thursday, 17 May 2018

Appreciate Reiterate

I wandered as lonely as a snow cloud
And flaked out all over earth’s beauty,
And covered what could be proud
Like that drowning, swallowing sea. 

Drown in existent, hardship sorrows,
A long hard breath until the end –
That mother nature humbly swallows
As our procreating, breast aching friend. 

Reach up high and taste the apple of life,
A bitter-sweet reprisal for insane strife,
That reaps its sown earthly, manly crop
Of blood sucking breath not forgot. 

Philosophise a remedy for harmony,
And wish for heaven from hell on earth,
And embrace and nurture a friendship
With others who also suffer hardship. 

© Andrew Stevenson 17/05/2018

Alienated Philosophy

It is written: ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’, but logic says that it is: ‘dust to dust, water to water. Our bodies are approximately 70-80% water, most of which is living DNA, and the rest is programmed DNA, such as bones, hair, etc. Most water, in some point in time, travels back to the sea, perhaps with some, or a lot, of species DNA (including humans). 

Here’s a possible philosophical premise: there is DNA in space. We are approximately 70-80% water within our bodies, our water is living DNA (besides water intake); we freeze sperm and eggs, and when defrosted these can come back to life; there is lots of ice in space! 

© Andrew Stevenson 17/05/2018

Conscious To The Unconscious

You know, there is intelligence in trees, as they seek the sun, and as such have some type of consciousness, as to be unconscious, they would grow like robots, in a sense of order, but they grow with their own sense of seeking, and thus must be feeling, but not as us, with eyes to see, and a care to bear, but they have their roots firmly embedded in the ground, a type of haven. But perhaps this is not the case, and they are on an ‘auto drive’ consciousness, and are thus unconscious, and an analogy of this would be a computer, we can programme one, and it will function from that input alone, and not think for itself, in a psych sense! 

Nonetheless, we cannot dispute the intelligence of trees, as they seek the sun, which is evident all around us. 

You know, logic says that there was only one apple tree to start with, and that it had its own genetic code, yet in Britain, there are over three hundred different types, which is evidenced from reading their individual genetic codes. Did all of these trees evolve separately, or did they branch off from each other! If they branched off from each other, this indicates an intellect, as in building on code, regardless of a psych sense. Computers can do likewise, as in some programmes the input warrants them to act in a particular way, such as picking up on particular words threading through the satellites in space, and thus acting upon it. 

Now the computers have intellect, but this is unconscious, and were created by humans, who are conscious. So if the trees don’t have a consciousness, what consciousness created these! 

(Logic says that trees perhaps evolve through climatic and environmental conditions, as species do, with God’s will.) 

© Andrew Stevenson 17/05/18

Fighting Back With A Rap

Jay Z is a gentleman, and conducts himself sensibly and appropriately, and has a symphony of characteristics: he disregarded womanising by romanticising Beyonce, which plucked her heart-strings with the bling’s of love, as he is platinum when it comes to a companion, and is a wealth of gold for her to lovingly hold, which symbolises that he is glowing in blowing a tuneful rap, that is respectful, and not neglectful, as she is a lady with a morality of standing, and has an understanding of environmental upbringing. He has an empathetic care to stare back at the ghetto, and is sick at the stick that comes with it, that beats a drum of bleats so glum, as lambs are led to slaughter, a gospel truth of patient growth, and he doesn’t like the brass in some hoods’ pockets, who tap into rap to pile their crap of emptying their sack, he is not derogatory to femininity, and his masculinity is an art apart to reap an apple cart of female pride. 

His demeanour oozes modesty, and his words are humble, and with a grumble he expresses the concrete jungle, which can be heard in his lyrics, and felt in his sorrow, as where is the hope for the poor when the political score is beg, steal or borrow to see you into tomorrow, as poverty is rife, and prosperity booms away from these tombs that lock up many a resident in their home, and lots are tearful and alone, and some are fearful and prone to carry a gun, as the dwelling of a wondering of a bruising while wayfaring in the heat of the street must be nerve-racking. 

© Andrew Stevenson 12/03/2017

The reference to apples is indicative of wisdom, from an Adam and Eve sense!
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

At Times

I like a nice, quiet drink
Where I rationally think
About my mentality,
Sometimes a gravity
Of insane insensibility.
Yet, I love socialising
Without patronising
Negativities opposing. 

I have my paranoia moments
And suspicions with movements
Of the populace around me –
Paradoxically being free
But I still feel locked up
As I swallow, sip and sup.

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

Saturday, 12 May 2018

Overdosed

Who’ll mourn if the come down doesn’t wake him,
Not most of his victims of criminality for sure.
He weakly fought and lost his battle within
And on any help had slammed shut the door.
No tears will seep from us, for his life was sin –
But not always, there was a respectful time before
When he’d paid taxes, and was thoughtful to kin;
He knew what love was, and his family did implore,
But he left them for dead when he went out to score. 

Her son, who once could do no wrong in her loving eyes
Before his time had been laid to transgressing rest.
With tears she regrettably said her farewell goodbyes
Whilst packing away his memories in the old attic chest.
Yet just across town her son slowly breathed in air,
With no one to lend a hand, and now also a care. 

© Andrew Stevenson 13/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Having Bipolar

The time of day ticks by slowly, drawing in the night,
And undercover is a brightness plight,
As I am lethargic and restless –
Superficially painless. 

My smiles and cheeriness fade into a space,
Where loneliness picks up its pace,
To draw on my intellect,
With a mind to dissect. 

I am twisted in two, this way or that way,
Indecisive affray to play or decay,
And as I rot in thoughtfulness,
In comes the darkness. 

I have to look before I leap, and under the sheet
I sleep, and bleat and bleat and bleat,
And as the hours are stolen away,
I live to fight another day. 

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

Monday, 7 May 2018

Lovably Lovable

I am seeing my Babe later,
I have come to love her,
We are nicely blossoming
With our wooing romancing. 

I think she is a sweet Lady
And I feel so incredibly lucky
When I have her in my arms
Expressing her loving charms. 

We spend a few hours together,
This to me is pleasing pleasure,
I love her sharing her company
With humble and modest me.

Di’ is beautiful inside and out,
She has luscious lips that are pout
Which are dreamy to nicely kiss
With longitude creating my bliss.

She is pleasantly caring with me,
A source of my happy tranquillity,
It is always pleasing to nicely see
Her reciprocating back lovingly. 

© Andrew Stevenson 07/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Sunday, 6 May 2018

Blossoming Love

I see Di’ today,
Hip, hip hooray,
She is very pretty
And acts sensibly
Loving happy me
Giving me serenity,
I will be aptly loud
That I’m now proud.

I love her on my arm
Expressing her charm
Of being beautiful
Making me fruitful
In everything I do
As I love her too. 

© Andrew Stevenson 07/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

A Long Walk With My Dog

I’m off to my Mother’s soon,
I’ll be walking across town,
The flowers will be in bloom
Which will make me frown
With happiness and some love
With the sun shining above.
I will be tending her garden
Whose grass is now overrun. 

I’ll be seeing my daughter and ex
Later on today as I’ve had a text
To say they’ll be on their way
After their car-boot-sale stay.
I will enjoy seeing my family
Who are happily very friendly. 

© Andrew Stevenson 06/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

A Steady Pace

My girlfriend likes romancing,
Which to me is very pleasing,
She is wooing me pleasantly
And I am acting gentlemanly
By taking things at her pace
As I like her not being in haste.
She is lovably loving with love
And gives me a big, squeezy hug. 

Di’ is wise expressing an intellect
Of knowing what is nicely best,
She enjoys reading my pieces
And praises me for my graces.
We share a fondness for each-other
And enjoy our time shared together. 

© Andrew Stevenson 06/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

I Hope For No Sorrow Tomorrow

I’m seeing Di’ tomorrow,
Lately she is full of sorrow
As she’s been feeling sick
Suffering the bodily stick
That comes with it as well,
But today she feels swell
Which aptly I hope will last
So she is not prone to fast. 

Di’ is pleasantly pleasing
With kissing and hugging,
We both express loving
With sharing and caring.
I’m made up we’re together
Which I hope will last forever. 

© Andrew Stevenson 06/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Springtime Sunshine

I have just walked Sadie,
It’s a gloriously sunny day
Making me quite happy
As we went on our way.
I like to get a brown tan
With as much sun as I can.
On the lead I was in control
While we had a pleasant stroll. 

Springtime flowers were blooming
With their bright colours consuming,
Daffodils were swaying in the breeze –
My hay-fever was making me sneeze.
Ducks were floating and quacking
In the canal that we were passing. 

© Andrew Stevenson 06/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Saturday, 5 May 2018

Believe And Do Not Grieve

Look up to the sky
And hear the cry
Of our God up high
As to why deny
We are all to die. 

Some will be in purgatory
For their inability to see
Sensibly to Jesus wise plea
That after-life is heavenly
If you come to believe in He.

Jesus preached forgiveness
To alleviate personal stress
At believing in what’s best
Having more and not less
Of His apt words to digest. 

Jesus’ still gave supplication
To an unbelieving nation
Adhering to religious separation
Not believing He is God's Son
Preaching His wise wisdom. 

Will you pray this Sunday
For Jesus to lead the way
To a brighter and better day
Of being happier while at play
In God’s image made of clay. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew. God bless.

They Wrote What Jesus Spoke

Listen to wise Jesus, our Lord
Who taught to not use a sword,
He preached not to put up a fight
But to forgive with your might,
And to love with all your heart
As some were madly world’s apart
From having the right faculties
Of adhering to Godly sensibilities. 

Trust in His Friendship of Light
That can be shared in the Gospels
Of Mathew, Mark, Luke and John
Who wrote down our Saviour’s life.
Our Lord Jesus spoke in parables
To believe that He is God’s Son. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew. God bless.

A Stroll With Its Toll

I have just taken Sadie out,
It is a gloriously sunny day,
We had a nice walk about
By the river with its bay,
People were out on boats
And swimming with floats,
Ducks were being nicely fed
With plenty giving them bread. 

The heat eventually took its toll
On poor Sadie having a stroll,
She needed to be rehydrated
With a cool drink to be sated.
We both liked the wayfaring
Enjoying the bright sun shining. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

The Might Of The Light

It’s nearly Sunday,
An apt time to pray
For a better tomorrow
Devoid of bitter-sorrow,
Our Lord is the Light
To lovingly put up a fight
To free you from gripe
With how he did like. 

He saw the brighter-side
And taught to not hide
But abide by the tide
Of opening eyes wide
To channel their thoughts
Charitably with nice ought’s.

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew. God bless.

Nicely 'Hi' And Sad 'Goodbye'

I might not have wealth
But I am in good health,
And often am walking
Which is my exercising –
Amongst lifting weights
In-between loving dates,
As I like to look my best
For her palatable digest. 

I’m fondly falling for Di’
And love to say to her ‘hi’
And let out a crying sigh
When It’s time to say ‘bye’.
She is very personable
And lovably lovable.

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

I Am A Nice Guy With Di'

I like to be a nice gent’
With my Lady-Friend,
We’re experiencing Lent
With an absence trend;
She’s busy with work
And has responsibilities,
We still manage to talk
And text with pleasantries. 

She’s pretty and beautiful
Making my life more fruitful,
We are both very compatible
Such as both being responsible.
I’m next seeing her on Monday
Which is bank holiday May-Day. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Pleasing Romancing

I am buzzing
With dating,
She’s loving
With sharing;
Our pairing
Is glowing –
She’s shining
With caring. 

She is charming
While conversing,
I enjoy our texting
And our phoning.
I’m quietly missing
Her nice cuddling. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
A piece with the same rhyming suffix throughout.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Hi To Di'

My girlfriend is a Lady
Who’s attractively pretty,
I like her acting Christianly
As it’s a source of serenity;
She is delightfully sweet
And a nice, beautiful treat,
And the times that we meet
She’s hot with a warm heat. 

I’m fond of her loving essence,
Which softens my feeling tense,
As I still have some anxieties
With mad bipolar insensibilities.
But we are still growing strong
And fondly to each-other belong. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Time For Spring Sunshine

I walked my dog at six,
She was picking up sticks,
The early morning sunrise
Was welcoming to my eyes
As everywhere was sunny –
A source of tranquillity:
Sadie was off her lead
Sniffing the odd weed. 

I strolled past the canal
With my pet, canine pal,
She had a pleasant run
While enjoying the sun.
Early birds were chirping
While out and about flying. 

© Andrew Stevenson 05/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Friday, 4 May 2018

Back To Normal

I write to heed my suffering
And thus, wisely weathering
A dark cloud that does shroud me
And my sanity, a grave mentality.
My delusions and confusions
Can become character creations,
And as the nights madly pass by
I am prone to shed a tear and cry. 

I am humane, gentle, soft
And hold greatly aloft
A morality of some sanity
To Christians with sensibility.
But regardless of these abilities
I am still prone to be ill-at-ease.

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

Tuesday, 1 May 2018

An Angelic Treat

I saw my Lady-Friend
Who’s very charming,
I am now on the mend
From missing loving.
I love her company
As she is endearing
And is my tranquillity
With her sweet-caring. 

We are both complimentary
Exchanging the odd pleasantry;
Di’ is humorously quite witty
And is pleasingly, nicely chatty.
She is an Angel heavenly sent
And I’ll be a respectful gent’. 

© Andrew Stevenson 01/05/2018
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Monday, 30 April 2018

I Was And Am

Medication can be tearfully unkind
Messing about with my insane mind,
And as I slump into depths of despair
I am prone to sit quietly and stare. 

A paranoid mentality of nurses after me
After a lifetime of extreme insanity:
They are organised and are forsaking
To my reluctance to unkindly pill taking. 

I think I am being scrutinised, analysed -
Which can render I to be mentally paralysed,
But I still exchange pleasing pleasantries
Regardless of my unending mentality. 

Oh, woe to I and my stupid beliefs
Synonymous with psychiatric grief's,
As I'm sometimes rendered incapacitated –
An insane, grave position really hated 

I have times of being quite well
Where others can observably tell
That I’m taking care of myself,
As I look and sound in good health. 

© Andrew Stevenson 22/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
I wrote this when my meds didn't suit me.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Sunday, 29 April 2018

Delusional

I fret with a paranoia feeling
With a history of seething,
And a future of uncertainty –
What is to become of me. 

The public is under scrutiny
And madly and stubbornly
I assume and also presume
In a sad, psychotic gloom. 

Who is spying, watching,
I am constantly wondering,
And what is their pleasure
From this prying endeavour. 

Who is acting and who is real,
I mentally suspiciously steal
Away my sane rationality
To this inflammatory insanity. 

© Andrew Stevenson 21/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

Who Am I

Hurrying here and scurrying there,
Ever watchful of people that stare
At a lunatic going about his business –
And a person in deep, mental distress. 

Trying to stay stable, in and out
Of a maddening psychosis bout,
And I may be madly inclined
To worry you out of your mind. 

But I'm mindful of who I am and how to cope
As I'm also charitable to the aid of some hope
Of my being a gentleman with wise chivalry –
I can also be quite humorous and witty. 

I am a multitude of characteristics, an enigma,
Alters to cope with while suffering the stigma
Of being mentally insane, a reject of society
And a person of considerable notoriety. 

© Andrew Stevenson 21/03/2017
 
A re-edited piece.
 
This poem was written when my meds didn't suit me.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.