Juststan

It is for me once more that time of the year, when my paternal emotions soar, as the festive season draws near. Doll houses I crafted with care, every year a different style, with a desire to be there, to watch you play with them for a while. Sometimes what I miss most , is that I never got to know you, or the moments to hold you close, and share the wonder of you. Had I but a moment to tell the world, of their greatest treasure; in that moment all truth unfurled, angelic reposes constant pleasure, locks of hair tangled in sleep. Let nothing steal your attention, in gaurding their safekeep, or abuse their unconditional affection. In running here and there, let not thoughtless neglect, make you forget they are there; in that moment I ask this in humble respect. I came across a couple of sites I would like to share. Every year we read about children and animals dying in closed up cars and closed up spaces, refrigarators disposed with doors intact, I think of my own I have never seen, che

Is justice seen to be fair, her scales balanced equitable; when judges dont seem to care, about that which is reputable. Appointed by royal decree, short of only a sceptre to reign, perpertrators liberally set free, victims penalised to even greater pain. That she was raped seven times, her friend suffered assault; the judges heaped other crimes, saying she was at fault; her lawyer was disbarred, doing his duty to defend, in a court system marred, by the way judges choose to bend. A world thats greedy for oil, elects to watch in silence, ignoring the disgusted recoil, at this blatant support of violence. Six months in jail to be spent, the lashes have been doubled, they say for her to repent, without even being troubled. Only one question, If the girl from Qatif, was your daughter judge would your ruling still hold water.

Let me freeze this moment in time, capture and hold it forever, for when there is no reason or rhyme that my thoughts cant stay together, or I cant return from yesterday; on a path I alone can travel. In diffused shades of grey, fragments of time unravelled. I want to hold you so near, that time could never erase, that in you which I hold so dear, which can endure life's friction frays, yet let my grasp be gentle and light, so that you may have freedom to be caught and carried by your fantasy flight, to find all you have sought. In the magic of this moments spell, I want to whisper all I feel, careful not to harshly dispel , the illusion that it is'nt real, can my emotions be tightly bound? Can the impulse to dance in delight? All be brought to ground, in this moment of time tonight. written after reading on the risks of Alzheimers and the desire to cherish every moment that I can remember in the prayer that I can remember forever, And thinking of those who have Alzheimers a

A sixties song comes to mind, "they shoot horses dont they" a story of a different kind, a different depression. This one is of horses, running free the way they meant to be, ten thousand of them, listen can you hear them, with their call of the wild, can you feel the earth vibrating, with that pulsating beat of being free. Ten thousand horses, Brumbies they are called; amidst the echoes of thundering hooves, and cacophony of bumbling bureaucrats, a lone voice is heard, crying out for sanity to reign, to save a natrual heritage. Red the story of Peppe, in save the Brumbies. If you still not moved, see a mare shot and dying, foal left behind to starve, standing waiting by his mother, for her to stand again; Visit save the Brumbies now: http://www.savethebrumbies.org REACTION TO YAHOO NEWS RELEASED BY AP. ARTICLE SATURDAY 10th november

In benign Grabouw, where apples grow; far as i can recall, there is no crime at any given time; no violence at all. Nestled in the hollow, it's hard to swallow, what has happened there; a night on the town, brought a man down, a few drinks to ease the care. The country silently sleeps, my soul quietly weeps, for someone I did'nt know, beaten to death in a cell, trapped in a living hell; waiting for the final blow. He came to construct, not to obstruct. In his home far away, there is his wife, he was her life, which is now in disarray.