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Thursday, 19 April 2018

Keys to the Kingdom

Keys to the Kingdom

forget it folks, the weather's hot and Iceland are aving a Barbecue Promotion

Unbeknownst to the Welsh or should I say those that live or exist here, the whole country has gone from becoming a colony to a Castle.
The Prince of Wales Bridge is the Draw Bridge and the Severn Estuary is the Moat.
They tried the Ring of Iron at Flint but the whole of Wales is now a colonised castle and they have just handed over the keys to the BBC who will be broadcasting the Establishment and Westminster Propaganda from Central Square, Caerdydd. With the Anglophile WRU and the HMRC and the Trinity Mirror's Western Mail, the Centre of the Capital City has been tucked up like a kipper. They've done a Wooden Horse Manoevere, they've dropped their quislings and collaborators like Cairns, Carwyn and Ken and with UKIP in the Senedd you have to ask did we subconsciously want this to happen? Have we become addicted to submissive behaviour? Have we forgotten how to fight? I think we know that it is too late unless we are prepared to fight a guerrilla war like Owain Glyndwr. Cardiff is lost, despite the presence of the Eisteddfod and Tafwyl and loads and loads of the comfortably numb and complacent amongst the cyfryngis Cymraeg, nothing is going to change. The BBC are very clever you see because despite giving Welsh Speakers a comfortable living and a sense of self importance they have pulled the wool over our eyes. The viewers and listeners think that they are our saviours broadcasting in "iaith y nefoedd" but they are in fact creating a hell on earth in the long term because despite this bullshit target of 1 million speakers by 2050 we subconsciously know that we are disappearing up our own fundament and that the writing is on the wall for the language "Cofiwch Tryweryn" We are all taking part in a daily charade which is eroding our enaids from the inside out. We have become a soulless people. No longer kind and passionate, now vacuous and cold like the rest of South East England. We have been sold out in front of our own eyes by our own people. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different result so if you think that supporting Wales in the Six Nations and voting Plaid Cymru is going to save Wales then you are a mad c*nt. Take it from me because it takes one to know one. The only thing that can save Wales is an act of God. We need a Spiritual Revolution, A Diwygiad where people en mass, the 37,500 (It's a tidy sum but a mere drop in the ocean compared to the population of Wales)who signed the petition leave their homes on the day that the draw bridge for Castell Cymru is to be renamed and undertake a sit down protest to stop the traffic for as long as it takes for the c*nt Cairns to change his mind.If it means we have to drown him first, then so be it. We cannot put up with this shit any longer. There is no time left. The time is for action and if that means a Civil War, if that means hand to hand street fighting then so be it. 
Cymru am Byth.

Further Reading
Guaranteed to F**k you orft!

Tuesday, 17 April 2018

To whom this may offend

Alabaster Pasty
To whom this may offend
You may be affronted(hopefully)
by this punk performance poetry which is like
the non automatic, automatic door
on the waiting room at Keighley Station going Southbound.
I had me an alabaster pasty at the 'Island of Lesbos' artisan, wholefood delicatessen and patisserie in Hebden Bridge.
I paid a lot of money for summat that tasted overspiced.
It were a cross between chicken and avocado,  glycerine and ice.
This didn't actually happen, I am making it up.
To prove a point, that things are overpriced and you wonder why?
rent and rates, overheads, profit margins, greed and human nature.
 You've got sucker on your forehead,
The dead eyes of a Fellini headed female on a packed train from Leeds to Manchester.
She had more cases and bags than Sophia Loren's trailer on a film set. If you were fifty years older then you'd get the cultural reference.
We stood all the way on the Trans Penine Express, it was a Sunday. 
Dewsbury and Stalybridge rather than Venice-Simplon.
It is such an intimate way to travel, I imagined an orgy but I wouldn't take part.
I am an abstainer.
An abstainer of the alabaster pasty.
The price of the ticket should have meant that I travelled in first class fully clothed orgy.
There was solidarity amongst the stander uppers that the sitting downers could only envy.
Why are women on hen parties always overweight and ugly souled and loud?
Shoe horned into their black lycra, like walnuts stuffed into a man sized Johnny.
What the fuck has a pink flamingo and a cowboy hat got to do with getting married?
That poor bloke is all I can say when Debbie and Marian, Gloria and Fay come round and stay, drinking cocktails.
I thought that misogyny like anti-semitism was a made up thing but I came off that train in Piccadilly as if I'd had my dick rammed hard in a jar of Kosher Piccalilli .
Stinging foreskin needing lard and they wonder why we prefer foreign birds or other men.
Life is like an alabaster pasty.
You take a bite, it tastes of nothing and it gives you indigestion.

Second Hand Frigidity

Second Hand Frigidity

They don't like people, who make it quite clear, that they've been doing it wrong all along.
You know that this life and your wife is not the right fit but you'll sit tight in the hope that you'll find the wit and wisdom to extricate yourself from this mess.
Come on lah! Fess!
While good queen Bess meets the geezer off the blue planet you are still checking whether you have any stake left in it!
Can I sell it? Can I fuck it? Can I make it? Can I bake it?
Where did your obsession with cooking come from cos the British palate is not renowned around the world 
There's Indian, there's Chinese. There's Italian but not many that carry your name.
"Just going down the Butcher's Apron for some conger eel and mash mother!"
"Don't forget to bring some back for your brother."
Sibling rivalry will be the death of many a family and while mummy is concerned about Freya some of the working class are on an all daya, it might be a bender or it might be breakfast but listen to me while I broadcast that it's social mobility and the lack of it that is making people die ten years before their time.
All this International malarkey is just a distraction.
They, the Eton Toffs and The Vicar's Daughter don't want you to have what you oughtta!
They want you focused on the telly and playing with your willy.
They do not want you to plot and plan on how to get rid of the man. 
They are just so glad that you are more concerned about your Nan
who is the same age as the Country's matriarch.
The one that Prince Charles is waiting to cark.
He has always wanted to be King, he'll be the oldest monarch to don the crown, at this rate it will lodge on his frown.
They've bought him off with the Severn bridge, I'd have given him a clapped out old fridge for his second hand frigidity.

Tuesday, 10 April 2018

The Wider Silent Majority

"The wider, silent majority is absolutely with us"
said Alun Cairns of his bastard bairns, 
7th Generation of the Industrial Revolution
you mean the ones who drove the Brexit Bus 
down our Valleys Street and then got stuck up the twyn?
you mean the wider, silent majority
 who wear the Prince of Wales feathers on match days
at the Principality Stadium and then get roaring drunk and abusive because they hate themselves for not being able to sing the National Anthem?
They couldn't find their own arse with both hands let alone sign a petition
Yes they are absolutely with you, you simpering, grovelling Tory lickspittle, you triumphalist little Vale of Glamorgan Barley Baron.
When you were a Tory Assembly member you wrote down the words Greasy Wops on a note pad when asked by Vaughan Roderick what you thought of, when you thought of Italians. Ti ricordi che?
 Now you are Secretary of State for Wales.
What would the Bracchis, the Rabaiottis and the Basinis think of that? 

Bella Ciao from David Williams on Vimeo.

Sunday, 8 April 2018

The Age of Imperfection

or Wonky for Short

I am a Professional Failure. This is not me doing myself down but a statement of fact. Despite my bad breath and halitosis sometimes I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and say "You're actually a breath of fresh air lad". To reach the grand old age of 52 without a job/career or a spouse and children actually requires military planning. This does not just happen by chance. The fact that I had to don the mask of insanity to do it might appear a little extreme to you dear reader but the mentally ill can get away with murder as we are seeing on the news. To feign mental illness was the only way I could see that I was going to get out of the societal conditioning of striving, succeeding, competing, achieving. In other words perfection. I have become a glorious imperfectionist. Rather than bent I would call myself wonky. Capitalism has latched on to this fact now and Supermarkets are flogging off misshapen fruit and veg. Broken Biscuits have been around for a long time but it now appears with the world having imploded that we are all rising to the new consciousness. It's OK not to be perfect. It's all right not to get top grades. It's fine just to be without having to prove yourself to anybody. I can say these things now because I have walked through the veil of tears. There are no expectations on middle aged men. Well there are, we are expected to be slovenly and slow and good for nothing but going from the bookies to the pub and that suits me just fine. The fact that I don't gamble or drink doesn't matter. Society expects little of 'the feeble minded'. My 12 years of 'economic inactivity' have allowed me an insight into our collective insanity. There is no way I could have got back on the merry go round after I fell off quite spectacularly in 2005. I have been fortunate. With the love and support of my family I have been afforded a sanctuary in an emergency. I have had to re learn how to live. Learning how to live on little and this has actually been liberating. I was always self conscious and shy as a child and teenager and it appears that this self consciousness has returned now in the form that depending on where I go, I am actually dressed as somebody who doesn't care and doesn't try. Never somebody who cared about clothes and fashion, I could be a mannequin model in the windows of less salubrious charity shops. I am a scruffy, rough looking bastard in short and this does make me pause to reflect especially when I meet new people.  Their eyes belie the fact that they have identified a 'wonky', an imperfectionist and they are wondering what fate has befallen me to escape the culture of conditioning.
Perhaps I flatter myself but others can always identify someone who is self conscious. It is the law of the jungle. If you are self conscious, you don't tend to take so many selfies. It is a question of confidence and there is very little in life that can raise your confidence apart from success. But success always appears to have a dark side, a shadow. Unrealistic expectations from parents can cause a great deal of anxiety and distress in their children. So if any parents are reading this, take it from me, a professional failure, if you don't want your offspring to end up wonky, you will need to take advice from CAMHS if of course you can get hold of them.             

Friday, 6 April 2018

Bridge over Tory Waters

Bridge over Tory Water my'n uffarn ni!
Cairns like a Kamikaze Emperor came out from the Bank Holiday Clouds and announced that the Bridge, our Bridge is to be named after their Prince.
I didn't want to make this about ethnicity, it's about class, entitlement and monarchy, unelected monarchy and a little louse called Alun.
The most unpopular boy at school, he must have been bullied mercilessly to end up like this.
Harri Parri is getting married to Meghan Sparkle in May and while the sickly sycophants in their Union Jack underpants can't wait for that one, we the Welsh have to wait another year for this monstrosity.
I name this Bridge "Prince Charles"
Quick dap it!
Neil Hamilton and Dafydd El are going to hell.
That road is paved with good intentions and the best that we can do is a petition.
Non Violent Direct Action?
Fuck It, how about a little violent direct action?
If they proceed then we must plant seed.
Marijuana Leaf painted, Graffiti Tags, Republican tainted.
They have fleeced us and our visitors for the last twenty years, they blow the tolls and present us with the contents of a toilet bowl.
We had no choice with the Principality Stadium and now the Prince of Wales Bridge.
What is it with the letter P?
Do they think we are all pricks?
We watched him getting knighted at Caernarfon Castell and now we have to cross his effing bridge.
In this piece of bad poetry I call upon we to finally act, Wales Must Be Free.
Blow the Bridge, Paint it, Tag it because you rename it and you can effing forget it!
Political Prisoners lining up for nosh at H.M.P Berwyn will sing in perfect four part harmony
" Pont dros dyfnderoedd trafferthus."
Fe Godwn ni Eto

Tuesday, 3 April 2018

Back to Work

All I am presented with is people who think about themselves all the time including me!
Come on Theresa, shake that magic money tree.
The possession of cash flow is what divides us.
As long as we have enough to pay the Council Tax at the end of the year because I really want someone to police my bins.
Now sanctimonious prats are calling Basic Income, money for nothing.
I call them rats.
We are born to a country that taxes us as soon as we are old enough.
There is a central pot of money called the Treasury into which many people pay.
I used to do the same I have to say.
But then I got sick of trying, I got sick, a melancholy malady that had been with me, quite possibly from the day I was born.
Now I self stigmatise myself, I treat myself with scorn.
I don't allow anybody close enough to do the same, this working and paying tax, it's all a game.
We all need money to live but not to exist.
At the Government we all raise our fist.
Mark Twain said that the world didn't owe us a living, I don't think that is very forgiving.
Everything comes with conditions.
If there was enough quality work about then many of us wouldn't shirk but working for the existing wage?
I'm sick but not a berk.
This work/life condundrum is getting really humdrum, to the point I can't think about anything else.
CV, Interview, Suit to do what kind of job? 
I feel like a ghost moving through the Queen Street Shoppers.
Badly dressed, unimpressed.
It is the gaze of the female I try to avoid. 
Rightly or Wrongly I feel that they judge me.
Not hunter nor gatherer, just a bad poet carrying a locket of my mother's hair.
In Limbo Land heavy wooden blocks of progress cannot be shifted.
By the time I started my first job my father had retired.
I came back from selling print in Llangollen and cried.
It's all very well being 'pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad' but there are no fucking jobs here.
So over the porous border we troop so we can eat something more nourishing than soup.
Liverpool, Manchester or Bristol
If I had the balls I'd blow my brains out with an antiquarian flint lock pistol.

Monday, 2 April 2018

Don't Stare! Care!

Don't Stare! Care!
Zionist Unionists
Facebook Trolls
Anti Semitic? This takes the Biscuit.
The Establishment are out to destroy JC.
Murdoch writes drivel with his cock
Alan Sugar puts a lead weight in his sock.
When people with power know that their days are numbered, they awaken from their slumber and attack the man who is going to tax em.
So this will be relentless, the closer we get to Brexit.
Davis will be holding his nuts till next May.
Johnson, the most undiplomatic boor since records began.
And what about us, the rude poor.
The eulogised working class ain't got no sass.
We should care but we just stare.
We drink our Latte, maybe join a foam party.
Surrounded by charred concrete, we find it difficult to get to sleep.
Jesus Christ, on the day of Resurrection, it makes you weep.
We are reminded that we are the only critical mass never to have revolted.
Once in 5 years we are proud to say we voted.
Betting Shops, Alcohol Laced Cough Drops, The Lottery and Bonus Ball is like a Primeval Call.
Ant was trying to get out of his pact with Dec for many years but we were just too blind to see it because you see we don't really care, we just stare.
We stare from the porch of our home to see if anyone else has parked in our zone.
Territorial tae fuck, you wanna ruck?
In my bigger car, I say on Bluetooth "oh Zoe you're a star"
Shallowness and artificiality shall follow me all the days of my life until I get me a trophy wife then unemployed shall beget unemployed.
There's six generations haven't worked in this house.
Don't blame me, blame the coal board.
A Samurai sword swishes through the air and a newly sworn in PCSO is sent to investigate. He only gets as far as the gate.
He is tasered and battered in a revenge attack.
He is dragged inside and placed on a rack. The balaclava headed incumbent says 
"Watch this Mon brave"
He has stitched together a montage of police brutality through the ages, most of it from the States, the Part Time Police Officer is offered an After Eight.
Back at the Station he shouts at the Duty Officer.
"Don't stare, care"
Our Televisions are Bigger,
Royalty getting larger
Will Harry and Meghan have a guard of honour from Eton?
The bullies from the Bullingdon looking like something from a Kubrick film.
Giving the homeless a gentle nudge as they eat their fudge and prosecco.
Fuck me there is a lot to get angry about.
Much of it a figment of my imagination, no doubt.
As I bring this bad poem to a grinding halt unlike a screenplay by Sir Robert Bolt, I make this plea to the lower middle class.
Next time something matters, don't usher your children to bed.
Don't run back down your stairs to stare.
Please Care!

Thursday, 29 March 2018

Sobbing Selfies for Mental Health

Sobbing Selfies for Mental Health from David Williams on Vimeo.

G'day! In today's blog I propose a therapeutic practice that might pay dividends 'Sobbing Selfies'
My intention in the above video was to have a good old wep similar to Anthony Hopkins in Shadowlands. Great big wracking sobs! Didn't happen but I was fairly close to it! I actually lie in this video because I say I cannot remember the last time I had a good cry, well I can, and similar to the Australian Cricket Captain it was in public, in front of an audience in a village hall in North Wales in 2014. I had just performed in the drama of a friend who had written about the challenges of going back to work after the protagonist had suffered with depression. We had rehearsed over three days and script in hand in front of about 25 people I broke down in the Q&A at the end. Wracking sobs after somebody had asked a question about the stimulus and inspiration of the piece. It was embarrassing and I do look back and cringe but I often wonder if more people cried in public especially men perhaps it could act as a pressure valve to let all the negative feelings, frustration and anger out which is a given with the human condition. What do we do with all our regrets, our disappointments, our guilt? Where does it go? Where should it go? Nobody seems to know but what we do know is that 84 men a week are taking their lives in the UK. They are even talking about it in America. So guys instead of sending dick pics what about sending sobbing selfies? Instead of trying to prove your masculinity, why not show your vulnerability! Instead of testosterone, show the world that you are at home with your emotions. You don't have to Man Up you know. That was also a lie. 

Wednesday, 28 March 2018

Stigma & Taint

Stigma & Taint

Time for a Poem Robert Owen
Whatever happened to Bleddyn Bowen?
Anti-Semitism is afoot
What is fame when mortality beckons
How long you gonna live, what do you reckon?
Unemployed Russian Diplomats queuing for soup
Theresa May going "Whoop Whoop"
Cold War, Phoney War, Putin shows us the door.
In string vest and Donkey Jacket he crosses the floor.
The impudent West, oh give it a rest.
Time to rub some Vic on to our collective chests.
BBC and LBC won't give you a lot of tlc
You have to make a choice between your mental health and wealth.
You can't have both.
Poor and well or rich and crazy
Like a Sunday Lunch but without the gravy.
Wittering on in doggerel won't pay for some fresh or secondhand bog roll.(Recycled Line)
I should really try and find some work
but at 52 I'd be a berk 
to trade my freedom for wage slavery.
They don't give you medals for civilian bravery.
I'd like to promote myself as a purveyor of mirth
But cheap laughs are two a penny from someone of my girth.
I should really set up my own examinations board, if in trouble just pull the red cord but no one would attend because they know I'm going round the bend.
Euphemisms for madness are ever so quaint,it beats me why there is stigma and taint.
El loco, the mad un, the nutter on the bus
crazy, demented, she's lost it, what's all the fuss?
Mental Illness and Melancholy
Is a great leveller from hunter to hunted, sick in fox fur.
Out on the town, they are admired for being 'off their head' but they are the statistics that usually end up dead.
Making others laugh, putting others first is a dependency that gives you a thirst.
alcohol, drugs & gambling are not lifestyle choices for the ambling, 
these are the past times for those that inside are burning.
It's all very well saying "Life is what you make it" but how do we know that you're not faking it.
You can pull yourself up by the bootstraps and then use them to hang yourself.
Scratch Cards & Bonus Balls
Bad Poetry, Your Call.

Thursday, 22 March 2018

Anweithredol yn Economiadd

Doeddwn ni ddim yn siŵr beth oedd y label diwethaf i mi gael ond ar ôl darllen darn yn 'Fwrlwm y Bae' yn Gylchgrawn Golwg wsnos hon, sylweddoli na 'Anweithredol yn Economaidd' ydw i ag dwi wedi bod fel yna am dair blynedd ar ddeg bellach. 13 years, anlwcus i rai. Mae Llywodraeth Cymru wedi cyhoeddi cynllun newydd i geisio lleihau'r nifer o bobol sy'n ddi-waith yng Nghymru a chyrraedd yr un lefel a chyfartaledd y Deyrnas Unedig. Wastad chwarae catch up da ni wedi bod yn gwneud yn yr hen Gwalia, nawr rydym eisiau dal fyny gyda'r nifer o ddi-waith yn weddill GB PLC. Well, dyna uchelgais i chi, ras i'r gwaelod os fuodd un erioed. Mae o'n edrych fod Gweinidog y Gymraeg a Dysgu Gydol Oes Eluned Morgan gyda rhyw fath o hudlath! 
"Os oes cyfrifoldebau gofal gyda chi, allwn ni rhoi rhyw fath o strwythur mewn lle i'w helpu gyda nhw." Mae hi hyd yn oed yn mynd i ddatrys problemau iechyd meddwl. Nawr mae hwn yn dipyn o hudlath neu Magic Wand i'r Wenglish amongst you. Dwi ar bigau'r drain fan hyn nawr oherwydd dwi'n disgwyl gweld pobol mewn siwtiau yn dod i'r drws a chynnig gwasanaeth gofal i'm annwyliaid ag iddynt sortio allan fy mhroblemau iechyd meddwl sydd wedi bod gyda fi ers yn las lanc o 13 ag dwi'n 52 eleni, felli edrychwn ymlaen yn enfawr i weld beth sydd gyda nhw i gynnig yn y cynllun newydd yma. Ond i chi yn gwybod be, dwi'n eithaf hoffi'r label yma. 
Does dim mawr allai gwneud am y label 'Anhwylder Dau Begwn' oni bai am beidio sôn amdano fo ond mae yna rywbeth reit nobl a dewr am y teitl "Anweithredol yn Economaidd". Mewn byd cyfalafol, cystadleuol, neo-rhyddfrydol dwi falch o ynganu fy mod yn anweithredol yn economaidd ac efallai, efallai fydd rhaid iddynt dynnu fi nol i ryw fath o waith yn cicio a sgrechian. Gwyliwch y gofod yma.  

Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Fit to Work


Fit to Work
Fit to Work
Come on Now
You mustn't shirk
Look at that man in his new car
Look at that woman, she'll go far.
Don't you want to be like them?
It's not fair that they have to subsidise you
They are the many, you are the few.
Fit to Work
Fit to Work
"Sanction me, you berk"
Folks are ill
you make them walk uphill
you kick away the crutch
you hide their inhaler
you ask them if they want to claim travel expenses
and when they say no, you punish them.
DWP means Stupid in Welsh 
mutated from Twp
I can't tell you how many times
I've looked for non existent jobs
on Government Job Search.
Not a single one of those vicarious careers
did I want to caress
but I had to apply for them
because you said so
but who are you?
Who actually are you?
Someone with a job
making someone else
get a job that they are not fit to do.
You begrudge them £8.00 a day
Come on what have you got to say?
This is the Welfare State
that Attlee made
and you are dismantling it in front of our eyes
you're too busy kicking out Russian Spies.

Tuesday, 20 March 2018

The Thief of Joy

The Thief of Joy
Self Driving Cars
Non Alcoholic Bars
Back to Rehab Stars
News just In, it wasn't Putin
Wenger has come under suspicion
Because the Emirates is in Islington
Photoshopped hats on Communist cats.
Climate Change
Coral Reefs are Dying
What's your beef?
I am the thief of Joy
I have come to steal your new found toy.
A new for old Cold War.
The BBC news is a bit of a bore
We are over populated to f*ck and controversially it's quantity not quality.
You can hear the food chain being pulled down the Khazi.
We've over fished, over consumed and now we're over fuc*ing.
"Excuse Moi mon brave, what are the issues you are ducking?"
You can only be famous and tell it like it is cos if you are a common man, they look at you as if you were jizz.
Film Executives wear black to remember those who were power played into the sack.
Bozo and Mogg the porcelain frogs ribbitting on about Mother Russia.
Don't you realise that they could crush yer.
The beastly Brits are a bunch of shits.
Tommy Robinson on Speakers Corner wants to get rid of yer if yer a Foreigner.
You might want to check your label to see if you are.
Angly Dangly Saxons and their off shoots the Windsors are planning a wedding for which you must pay.
The Picts and the Celts as usual don't get to have a say.
Let us hope there will be snow in May.
I told you I am the thief of joy.
What do you mean "what's my ploy?"
I'm here to steal your fun, here do you want that hot cross bun?
we are surrounded by the new Victorian.
Across the Pond they want to confiscate my gun just because I am Mental.
Sugar and Gambling the old fashioned addictions.
We're meant to be fighting the fundamentalists but are turning into them ourselves.
Simple pleasures, Hidden treasures
All substances to be banned, don't let the human stand unaided
They must face their mortality cold turkey.
Put them into a room and give them a broom and let them sweep up the debris of their past.
Standing at the Exit Door, the thief of joy will give them a score out of ten for resilience.

News from Nowhere

News from Nowhere

Hitler navigates the A487 from Aberaeron to Aberystwyth



David's books

How To Be Idle
Second Sight
Freud: The Key Ideas
The Yellow World
Intimacy: Trusting Oneself and the Other
Going Mad?: Understanding Mental Illness
Back To Sanity: Healing the Madness of Our Minds
Ham on Rye
Electroboy: A Memoir of Mania
Memories, Dreams, Reflections
Murder in Amsterdam: The Death of Theo van Gogh and the Limits of Tolerance
On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft
I Bought a Mountain
Hovel in the Hills: An Account of the Simple Life
Ring of Bright Water
The Thirty-Nine Steps
A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose
The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment
The Seat of the Soul

David Williams's favorite books »