Cherrypicked stories

What good are these words, that cannot stop wars? What good is this writer who hides behind doors?

poem edited

I'm singing your praises as you help me stagger home, On this cold windy night, Where my hair pours over my forehead, And I'm half man, half train-wreck, I can even poke a little fun, You just laugh, You know Idon't realise what I'm saying, But what you're saying, It fills me up like a helium balloon, And like the caterpillars that crawled away when I dropped the jar On my sixth birthday, My thoughts are dispanding into so many nooks And crannys all filled with worry, Although you just smile, Because I don't realise what I'm saying, A sign snaps in half along the way, You tell me off, It's not my fault, I tell you that but you know better, It's just me these days, I say everything seems a lot darker on the horizon of this world I haven't spent nearly enough time getting to know as I leave it, You don't fret because I don't realise what I'm saying.

Spare a thought for the homeless

A journey to find the eighth wonder of the world and another journey too.

Redefining relationships

The ramblings of a young woman fuelled by mind-bending drugs and a bizarre outlook on life. P.S. I'm new to this whole ABCtales thing and perhaps I've got the wrong idea completely. Ah well.

Uncle Ted's precious violin finds a good home.

Repetitive work syndrome