Monthly Archives: August 2022

the dark thoughts

Follow these and be amazed….

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

A poem in Vietnamese by Lê Vĩnh Tài

Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

the dark thoughts


I’m aware of the path you have chosen

in the sudden rain


I’m aware of the secrets

communicated in your eyes


you are wise and sad

through all your

dark thoughts


your eyes darken when it comes to me

I don’t know if you love me

or not


but our shadows

shall eventually move on

like the passing years

beyond death


like how I will

one day die


perhaps in heaven

the green path on the way up shall widen


time will move on

there like the leaves and we will fly

if we can’t surpass it, we will die

you’re aware that if I’m unaware

then you shall simply pass by


we can’t have a wedding

we are both adulterers

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Not What the Poem Means & Without Sorrow There Cannot Be Kindness by PD Lyons (with pics)


not what the poem means

but how

how it makes you feel think react

when you bring your self to it


the tapestry is not thread by thread examined

but rather thread by thread combined~

if you see each thread you miss the tapestry


 study each brush stroke you miss the art work

forest for the trees ~

take it all in

take a big swig

not to figure it out 


to see what happens.


where are you singing

where are you dancing

tonite open spaces of my heart

in memory together and apart

children take us by the hand

sun across some foreign shore

where life is only looking back

trading places with the dark

wisdom drawn like silver

without sticks without books without roots

unspeakable nite this time

I will not medicate I will not dogma

I will wide open in the dark.

Without sorrow there cannot be kindness.



photo by shelly 2019

‘A soft lilac’

Visionary Poems

A soft lilac 
characterised the sky 

While a pale light from a serene moon 
hovered at the edge of the scape 
Where a forlorn adieu 
of a departed sunset 
lingered in a haze of lavender 
And there was a gentle breeze 
which ruffled the tranquil waters 
that abided amid infinite benthic realms

While a shimmer 
issued by the dawning nightide
Skimmed the horizon 

As the breeze whispered 
to the frisky the sands 
and frittered them away 
For to scatter upon the moonlit seas 
their myriad grains of quartz 
Which rejoiced in a silverine glow
by the orb of night bestowed 

~ d.a.simpson ~

Image: quangle on Pixabay 

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Goodbye Portugal

The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son)

Saturday 27th 

And it's time to say
Goodbye Portugal
It's really been
So enjoyable
Spending days with Luke
Just memorable

Love you both so much
Beloved sons


Towards the train station


Wonderful wiring 🤣

Breakfast views

💖 Faro

A sunny marina

I 💖 Faro

The view from the breakfast balcony

Shade needed at 8.30am ☀️

Our last wanderings

Healthy juice


Mid morning snack


Looking towards the ocean

Corner of the marina

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the poet PD Lyons Reading from As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time ~ part 3, w/text

Pdlyons's Explorations

~todays menu~
Pensioners Remiss
Knowing Now the Healing Ways
Atlantic Luncheonette 
themes: growing old, 1970’s, love, city

PD Lyons Reading from As If The Rain Fell In Ordinary Time erbacce~prize for poetry 2019 erbacce~press Liverpool UK

Pensioners Remiss – incorporates a variety of scenes from my home town Waterbury Ct. St Johns Church for example is still there on the green.

Knowing Now the healing Ways – again influenced by my hometown and my first apartment back in the 70’s. 

Atlantic Luncheonette – one of those classic coffee shops in America long before Starbucks or cappuccinos. On the corner opposite the exquisite white marble Waterbury Post Office. Many a skipped school day involved the Atlantic – strategically placed half a block from the library. How ironic, skipped school to hang out in the library. They even let you smoke in there back then but that’s another poem or two…

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what need for those protecting/defending righteousness?

Pdlyons's Explorations

“In every instance every individual has choice. “

This statement is what every oppressor/authority fears most. For if there is choice then there is no “one way”. If there is no only one way than what need for those protecting/defending righteousness?DSC_9146

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Guest poet: Mbizo Chirasha – Identity Apples

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

hibiscus-flowerPhoto: Sue Vincent

 Identity Apples

I am a fat skeleton, resurrecting
From the sad memories of dada
And dark mysteries of animism

I am Buganda
I bleed hope
I drip the honey of fortune
Makerere; think tank of Africa
I dance with you wakimbizi dance

I am Tanganyika
I smell and fester with the smoke of African genesis
I am the beginning
Kilimanjaro; the anthill of rituals

I am the smile of Africa
My glee erase the deception of sadness
My tooth bling freedom
I am myself, I am Gambia

When others seep with bullets stuck in their stomachs
I sneeze copper spoons from my mouth every dawn
I am the Colombia of Africa

I am the Cinderella of Africa
Where mediums feast with the ghost of Kamuzu in Mulange trees
Here spirits walk naked and free
I am the land of sensations
I am the land of…

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We Had Our own Penises Then, poetry by PD Lyons

We Had Our own Penises Then

Taught them tricks

Sit up



Roll over

Play dead


Got them to fetch

 Escort us on the lead

Not mess in the house

Be careful how they peed


And whenever we wanted

We’d change them.

Start again with new ones –





Sometimes they’d fall in love with us

Break their own little hearts

But our love?

Only meant for each other

Was not that kind.

Che by pd lyons w/photos

ruthless pursuit of your own dream.

suffering, the only reward for those who commit themselves to a dream.

swamped by muck of the masses.

vain valiant fool.

exhaustion your killer.

all sucked away, your ideals, your blood.

too late for you.

too late for those who loved you.

the people get the leaders they deserve.

no one asked you to die for them,

so they killed you.


Thank you all at Unlikely Stories Mark V !

1Anorexia Nervosa

she has been
to me
and in serving
i make an art,
of that which words
have been forbidden
i express
on my tight
a tale
everyone wants
to interpret
i cling to it
like a charm
she has been
to me
with secret dark
eyes closed
a sea
of objects
so safe
she does not
move me
but rather
causes me
to linger
a tip toe
from eternity
she has been
to me
this ornamental flesh
a power
always yearned for
and i would
cut myself open
for her but this
she does not
ask for

Youth, Yoga, And Reincarnation/ for Diane

I am the darker mother
Walking away
The time is noon
The world in flames
We talk
You listen
But tears cannot bring us together
Our flesh not bound
By such things
I am the darker mother
Walking away
We shall not meet again.


Battered Women’s Services ~

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