Wonderland and The Candle Man

The story of the Vanilla Poundcake

Burning bright in the arms of midnight.
The sweet scent of lovers long lost.
Moments new, springing into life.
Aromatic powerful passions lingering in air warm. 

Deliciously delicate healing beacons of light glisten. 

In the hands of time, wings wild bloom.

The birth of fragrant dreams, exploding in unseen kingdoms.

Humanity alight, in fireworks bright.

A spark burning furiously for humanity, every day and night.


The Magic house stands deceptively normal amongst all other gentrified lookalikes. No one suspects anything unusually abnormal behind its faćade of normality, however, the truth unfolds beyond ink on these pages. Mysteries, unravelling cheekily unprovoked. The Candleman crosses unsuspecting paths on a day otherwise perturbed. 

Akimbo beneath the sparkling sunlight, the Candleman unusually drowsy at midday succumbs to a slumber unwarranted. His back door, carelessly wide open as his eyes flutter into a world he never imagined possible. The grass vibrant green, crumbles under his slight weight. His snoring gentle, rudely disturbed by a buzzing insistent. The Candleman, sleepily flaps his fingers at the pest, irritating. Unsuccessful, of course, he bolts upright to confront his pesky intruder, to only be stared in the face by what he supposes is a bee with magnificent purple butterfly wings. The Candleman, convinced that he is either in a dream lucid or trapped in wicked trickery of the devil. Neither making sense much. 

Before his brown eyes, is a glorious Japanese garden. Trickling amongst the lush greenness, a stream, sparkling crystal clear carves a path exquisite. A proud bridge ancient framing the beautiful scene. Within his grasp, stands a masterpiece. A grand, cherry tree. Her all knowing wisdom an electric live wire, humming a melody historical. The crisp air, freshly clean. Singing birds chirp, faintly in the distance. The Magic house nowhere in sight. Bedazzled, the Candleman, shakes himself unable to believe his eyes in awe. He is thrust into this surreal reality by an enormous fluffy white wolf, in a crumbled yellow waistcoat and matching bow tie, rushing anxiously past him. His pocket watch pounding loudly in his giant pink paws. His sharp teeth, gleaming gloriously in the sunlight. The snow white coat, milky soft. 

“I am so very late”, he grumbles to himself. 

The Candleman, confused in his state of deliriousness, begins to follow in the footsteps of the hasty huge wolf. 

“Mr Wolf, please wait up!” Shouts the Candleman after him. 

Bewildered the wolf stops abruptly, stares and then barks rapidly. 

“It’s Sir Toto. And I am so very, very, very late. I cannot chitchat”. 

With a flash of light, he vanishes into thin air. Just like that. The Candleman’s words dying in his mouth. He coughs a little, choking on his shock as he aimlessly begins to stalks the grounds, unsure of what now. His waiting short lived as he finds himself being called by what appears to be a water fountain. However, at closer inspection, it is not an average water fountain at all. It is, well, a wax fountain. Beads of intricate wax, explodes into colourful droplets, singing quietly before they die in solid clumps. 

“Welcome, Mr Candleman. We’ve been waiting long for you.” Announces, a voice brisk brittle.  

The Candleman, clears his throat, throbbing. Hiding his amazement, he mumbles. 

“It’s good to meet you, Sir. But where am I?”

The voice crackles cooly. Then breaks into a thunderous laughter. Hiccuping, eventually, his cackling concluding. The Candleman, shifting uncomfortably on tired feet.

“You are certainly funny, Candleman. You are where you are supposed to be.” 

The Candleman, willing himself to find a quick retort before another mishap occurs. Unfortunately, his luck is out of sync today because the wax fountain already a solid statue frozen. Predictably, nothing today would fit in a neat puzzle. After some helpless exploring, the Candleman stumbles upon a rabbit hole, which he narrowly misses falling head first into. Proud of avoiding his near miss, he lets a sigh of relief. His joy short lived. From evidently nowhere, a vanilla cupcake with heavenly aroma lands in his open palm. It’s smooth cream, deliberately detailed in design. The folds of the velvet softness neatly arranged. 

“Eat me.” It whispers. 

Without thinking the Candleman pops it whole into his mouth. The precious sweetness, clinging to his greedy tongue. For what happens next, even the Candleman, did not expect. As soon as the guilty cupcake hits his insides, a cheeky laughter gurgles in his stomach. 

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have, Mr Candleman. Oh no!” Mocks a small voice inside. 

Before he can do anything to save himself, the Candleman begins to heat up internally. The burning flames scorching his bones brutally. Fortunately, the pain doesn’t last long because instead, he combusts into many little rainbow sparkles to only disappear into the raging furnace. The teasing flames licking the tiny rabbit hole. The sweet scent of vanilla hangs in the air. 

“By the way, my name is Vanilla Poundcake.” Murmurs the small voice again. 

Find out more with https://www.youmeandemilio.com/. Where humanity comes to life in velvet magic of wax artistry. Light a candle for the spirit of humanity with us. With each burning candle, we will send love, light and magic into the world. For more of The Candlemans spell binding adventure, please watch this space for his next steps. 

Love. Light. Hope. 
Burning as one collective. 


Begin your story here. 

Shadow lightening


My inner zen Buddha flaunts her arrogant mischievousness, eyes twinkling in outwardly wisdom wild. Years of emotional chaos licking my insides harshly. Wounded again. A battle other, scarring parts that recoil within to heal from toxicities unknown. I hear no more, a deaf stranger stumbling on feet, small. Hope brewing in the cup of life, steaming wickedly across oceans calm. A giant hand pulling on a cord invisible; a delicate thread of a union tied tightly around my heart fragile. I want to jump in her cool arms, float to the unknown tsunami of freedom, yet I am not able too. Simply, I do not know how.

Instead, my little Buddha plays a trick devilish, its lick a sweet, warm flame goading.

“Follow me”, she sings.

Bound by her melody, majestic- stupidly I follow. The hammering in my chest, a plea of a heart resisting. However, transfixed in this bewitchment, I only can continue. Doors many, a blurry whirlwind rainbow beneath my blind eyes. The low roar of a lioness awakening, stirring sleepily from her slumber. Her flames scorching, the soft coccoon of my womb. Agile limbs, knocking the wind from lungs crushing beneath an evil long forgotten amongst the midst of wonderful hope. In this moment, its birth, longing to  push past boundaries forged in iron shackles enchanted. Resistance no real possiblility anymore.

Warm dragons breath, igniting a spark in my veins cold otherwise. The thudding slow of a heart passive, now a steady beat of  a guitar broken. My feet stumble on their own mistapping.

“The Anger Room, welcome”, she hums in a whisper melodious. 

The clammy fingers hanging off my loose arms, tremble terribly. Pounding blood rushes to my ears, a roar deafening settling home. The erratic wheeze of my lungs, coughing inside explodes in my mouth dry. I just cannot be here. I cannot. Yet, this is where I am. A shadow eliminating in light, now burning a hole into life. The mere reality a hazy blur of many selves, co-existing as one. Fear grapples with my throat. The threat a danger beyond any reality perceived.

“You cannot hide”, she hisses. Her melancholy bleak. 

With hestitation mighty, my fingers cling to the rusty baseball bat. Sweating eyes sting, clouding my vision. The vacuum lulling.

Hit me.”

“Hit me.”

“Hit me.”

“Come on! Hit me!” Her screams wild. 

Unable to move, frozen, I suppress emotions, swimming to life in my heart. Amongst a world, simmering in rage heated, it’s heart, festering in unreleased furiousity- I am here, safe but so ridiculously afraid to let go. Whilst, versions of my non aggressive self, exploding violently in the wake of someone else dawn. However, though, my inner Buddha holds on to shreds of humanity. I will not be angry. This is not me. 

Her laugh, is a cruel jibe. I shudder. Backing away from my neatly arranged demolition site. She blocks my exit. I am trapped in a room with my own shadows. Escalating anxiety grips me forcefully as the lioness roars again. The inferno alight within somewhere unknown. I sob. She laughs. The merry dance continues for awhile eternal, before the moment without warning, she breaks free.

I am a helpless victim to her antics. Watching in horror silent, I stare at this shadow manic as it unleashes furies hidden for centuries long passed.  She is simply, uncomplicated. Her feline limbs strong, destructive and uncaring. In her awakening, she sees nothing but only her repressed agony. Without careful inhibitions, she ravishes all that dares to step in front of her claws. Her viciousness, appears unnecessarily pointless but I know it’s not. The method to her insanity, sane really. The years of being forced to hide, a toll unrelenting now. My pleas pathetic, fall upon the dead. I am not able to tame her. No one owns her, only her. Her anguished howls, tearing my ear drums. Her blood tears, bright cherry red. Blood thirsty claws, shredding innocent wooden furniture. My attempts to bring her to the light, die in my mouth as her heart bursts from her chest. Her cool words hang between us. 

“I am anger. Free me from this never ending hell.”

Without any other warning, she bursts into a bonfire magnificent. I can only stare at the ashes beneath my weary toes.

Alone, with a baseball bat, in a room clinically white, finally I breathe. I drop the bat, letting the tears flow without fear.

“Did you have a good time?” asks someone.

Blank, I nod. If only we didn’t shame our feelings, today, I wouldn’t within be fighting to release emotions I didn’t even know existed.  Whilst, the world, swallows up our inner Buddha’s behind the latent normalised anger of society, I urge you to stop. We do not need to label our feelings. They are expressions of our inner truths. We can live alongside them, without fear, guilt, shame. Behind every inner Buddha, there might be a lioness, please don’t bury her deep, beneath layers of hate. She’s only delivering you a message. You are not anger, only a moment of expression. Beyond that moment, you are light, love, joy. 

Our shadows, are our windows. They mark our beginnings and insurgence to awakenings. Please, free them safely.

Thank you to the Anger Room for a safe, organised experience.


Why not meet your shadows in a safe place? 

The Candle Man



FullSizeRender (1)

The Candleman 

Warm wax simmers in the arms of light smoldering cheekily. Melting in the arms of cool wisdom and knowing elusiveness as rainbow fireworks teasingly teasing the smooth curves of a kingdom lavishly ravishing in joy simple. The delicate air of stillness, serene cascades against fragile winds whistling gently. Their dance a seductive trance of footsteps laughing at promising unspoken truths unhidden. Paths, provoking the sleep walking into the mystical fantasy of realities many. The unbreakable bonds of time sealed in cosmic connections beyond words deaf to witnesses unseen. Eyes, watchful patiently waiting for impending storms, beckoning beneath calm waters. The electric sparks of energy sizzling beneath fingertips, tingling with the gift of magic destined to unravel. Masks unmasked submit willingly without fearful shame. Power potent exploding in embryonic life, defiant to live. Life reborn again and again in simple purity, enticed to shed layer upon layer of old skins.

Proudly, high on his throne, glistening underneath the rich luminous halo of light, flickers the faces of our voices, silent. Skin velvet smooth, evolves with each burning flame; blazing magnificently bright. Strong tall roots, embedded determinedly in mother natures bosom warm. Undeterred, resilience resilient in the wake of each dawn. Soft aromatic scents of sandlewood drifts fragrantly amongst the breeze fresh, whilst he burns slowly through day and night. His sweet melody of unconditional laughter rings crisply through the mirrors of puppets asleep.

Shattered. Scattered. Scarred. 

Raw, sizzling smoothness floods against the banks of unsuspecting waters. Yet, his flame alight, always. Never, dimming. Light against dark, midnight moonlight charges our frail weak hearts. Its beat rhythematically punctured with an infusion of enchanted light love, eager to heal our demons inner.

The unannouced arrival of the musical chants of burning fires lick hungrily without warnings much. It’s roar fierce. The wildly raging inferno of confused Wildfire, grappling helplessly with the magnetic coil of The Candleman. His greedy mirth pulling her into his melting warmth. A contagious laughter, echoing in her ears, dainty. Their embrace an awkward truce between strange friends unfamiliarily familiar. Wildfire’s whirlwind chaotic spins into sudden stillness unexpecting. The chemical alchemy of mysterious mystics forging a firm wall of togethered unitedness. The soft inner circle of family new, taking shape in the shadows begins a dance tantalising. Tethered, finally as one, they remain connected from a distance not so distant. His bewitching charm a spell, accidental. Yet, nothing random happens here. All is willed to unfold as it wishes. The colourful scattering of pixie dust, reviving forgotten dreams. Wildfires sudden arrival intriguing her into his world of modest beauty, honestly honest. Words, hardly needed as hearts mend, without any real clarity. His throne, worshipped wistfully by those unable to reach its true depth. Wars fought beyond its wall, unable to penetrate his kingdom solid.

The Candleman continues to bleed love into his magical little heaven, untouched leaves no one. The spell, a final call to the kingdom of inner selves. Heal your heart at the Magic House with The Candleman. Thank you kindly for all of your hearts openness.





Find your inner goodness with you, me and Emilio. 



Fluttering financial wings of freedom

The fluttering wings of our soul, sleeping amongst the noisy lull of modern life madness. Entrenched roots, intoxicated in the silent buzzing din of a coil so deeply embedded that the seen fades into the unseen. Merging realities distracting further. Open eyes closed shut tight.  Asleep. Awake. Asleep. On we go. Until we fall into a magical slumber; cocooned gently in the arms of mother nature to never awake again. Yet our desperate wings plead to ears deaf. Our dreams begging to explode into a vibrant cocktail of freedom. The voice of our truth crushed beneath many voices, unheard. Buried desires burning into the ashes of failure. Do you stop to listen?

Instead, clipped wings suffocating slowly, die. Whilst we chase the hypnotic rhythm of chaos.




Until we can go no more, when one day our footprints fade in the sand. Our voices, a memory distant. Rats in a money maze, seeking nameless happiness without the real understanding of happiness itself. Watching our lives pass us by, before our eyes dead. Unchanging change our norm. Our reflections blind behind cracked mirrors, unwilling to dig deeper. Cracking, crack by crack more.

What’s your self worth?

We die today to be reborn again. Only, when we can see ourselves. Burning passion passionately fighting to freely live. With the determination of a warriors will, we will spread our wings. One day, to authentically escape the shackles of iron cold clutches of a merciless master, faceless behind many faces. Finally, alive. Once trapped lungs, now breathe air fresh ready to face a war inner before any other.

Our enemy = the broken parts of a self forced to die everyday.

Our destiny = to heal our wounds, to love our beautiful hearts.

With me, will you choose life?

Together, in this over saturated world, disconnected connections seeking connections. Our battered minds, disabled from our once engaged hearts. We have forgotten our truths. Alone, we are not. We are beautifully unique butterflies, dipped in ink of our own special kind. The blood raging through our veins, one of the same. Our exotic difference, forging a familiarity similar. Bleeding the same blood red. You die, I die. Our song, one. Then, why do we die alone, broken?

I call you to the promise of the illuminating light of love. Its radiant warmth, sinking deep into your cells. This is the moment, to find yourself, finally to break the rhythm forged by the hands of evil others. Evil within staging an alliance to seal our fate amongst the sleeping dead. Frozen silence, cracking through ice thin walls. Its voice, a shrill brittle, calling you to life. Listen to your heart.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Its thudding, a reminder stark. You once were born free. Rebirth, a path new. A wild intoxication surging through your freshly renewed soul, belonging within. Beneath the furious beast betrayed, awakens a spark. The fragile delicate blosson of love, forcing its way to life. The beginning of an ending, awake again like cool spring water, dripping between fingers wet. The insistent call of a voice in your once dead heart, louder. The chance to find love, with no other but yourself. An invitation to insanely, madly fall in love with the imperfect beauty that embodies your thin veil; so one day you know your worth. The calling of freedoms of various kinds beyond your checkbook.

Are you awake?

To allow yourself the chance, find out more with Michael Johnson and Angel Eyes.


Check out 21/02/2017 to enjoy your own freedom.


Love. Peace. Harmony.

Fly far with your new found wings with love in your heart.












Each bright morning, I wake with light love in my heart, embracing each new encounter as a gift from God. A celebration of life bursting deep within from the depths; ready to explode as many infinitive fireworks. My eager heartbeat of a smile flashing freely at all willing to envelope in its magic. I am an intoxication, slowly burning seductive wildfire into life itself. The fluttering of my heart an ecstatic beat of a rebellious drum, defying the sorrows of the world. The catching rhythm, alight in the whirlwind of chocolate mocha eyes dancing to soothing music unheard. For miles endless, radiates my love. From my heart to yours. A freedom blessed. At what cost though?

The insistent ebb of a call ringing loudly in my ears.

What is the cost of kindness, unconditional?

It asks, the unsaid challenge said.

Stubborn defiant ink bleeds through my veins. My unspoken words tart.

Kindness is kindness, its cost unmeasurable.

A laugh wicked echoes in the cry of the wind.

Are you sure?

The taunt registering in my heart. The flippant shrug of my right shoulder a reply- whatever, is what it seems to say.

I would watch the way the wind blows ….

Faded hissing linger long after the calling ends.

Piece by piece, I piece back my heart. Ignoring the warning. I continue with greedy flames licking through the wake of my experiences.


I am happiness.

Until, the wind changes its direction and the course of my life, requesting a pleading refund. Before myself sits, a client. Her flirting fingers toying with her curls wild. Mischievous brown eyes staring into mocha midnight ones; an unspoken dare forging.  Her slow dance with my fragile sensibilities- a threat dangerous. Her lip curling as she drops innuendo after innuendo. My heart stops. I deliberately flash my wedding ring, light catching its intricate promise. Yet, her path undeterred. What the hell? asks my mind. But flustered as I am, I have no retort. All I hear is the panic of my heart.

Run. Run. Run.

Enduring this unprovoked torment, I let the meeting conclude. Slowing my overwhelmed senses as she disappears from my world temporarily. Collapsed lungs, gasp for air desperate. However, my lesson had only begun. My electric fingers tingle as I open the messages on my phone. An onslaught of a wholy other kind begins to play before my eyes bewildered. My desire to not care kicking in, when a suddenly my mind urges me not too.



A saddening delusion wickedly mocking my heart.

I told you so.

A promise to care for a friend, unravelling in cruel kindness. Promises purely platonic from a place of unconditional love pregnant in a reality completely unrealistic.

The spinning of my world, unsteady for this moment I realise that my way of a life was simply that. My way of life. Others caught in its weave were perceiving something, I did not intentionally project. Yet, here I was. Receiving abuse for someone elses misconception. Their reality willing to bend mine. My will unwilled. Somehow, from the pure version of love, I become somehow an object for those desired what they did. My desires simply undesired in their delusions. However, kindness remains kind. The truth unchanging. A sad fact that kindness, may not be so easily received in this deprived world of lost misfits seeking beyond themselves. 

I embody my own truth. Always, will do. What you percieve is yours but that will not come at a cost. Kindness will not pay its price.

It will purely be a boundaried offer to humanity.

My message a reminder that our actions and inactions, have consequences beyond our control. All I can do is burn my light but in a measured self aware way. And that does not come at the cost of love or kindness. It comes with the price of healthy boundaries, which harm no one and they simply require the polite request of respect.

You are welcome to bask in my love, light and life, however you MAY NOT penetrate it as I will my world to spin as I want. Not YOU. Not anyone else.

I am human. A man.

Not an object of your delusions.

And kindness is not my game play, it is my essence.


Make no mistake, I repeat not errors of my way.


From my heart to yours, thank you for this wake up call.

Thank you.




The Lionhorse and it’s heart 

It all began once upon time three years ago. There I was lying in bed, shackled to a body lost to illness. Not for a day, not for a week, not for a month. Rathermore, days merged as one, passing into years, three. An essence now, a distant reminder of once what was. I was no longer her. Simply, a shadow beneath skin and bones. My life clinging to the idea of the woman I used to be. Beyond my pain, emotional and other, I was nothing more than a disabled mishmash of unpredictable symptoms fighting to thrive amongst their noisy chaos for survival. 

Then, one wintry day, I decided that this battle with chronic fatigue was not really a battle at all. I wasn’t it’s slave and I would not live by its rules anymore. Chronic fatigue was not the lion, I was. So, there it began, the churning of a wheel. My past did not define me, abuse didn’t beat me- then how would this illness that was robbing my dignity, stay and win? It would not. I would not hand over my power. 

On a freezing cold Thursday morning in January this year, I caught a plane to Barbados. My first adventure since my diagnosis. The chance to actually live. My sore bones groaned as the wheelchair ached on our short trip through security. I persisted. Nothing would stop me, unless the angel of death visited. Eight hours later, the cool breeze hit my skin. My body tingled in an excitement fresh. For the first time, in three years, I walked unaided after such eventfully intense activity. Liberated by the calling of the ocean. A voice only I heard. A freedom beckoning. 

Three weeks ago, I tentatively walked into the LionHorse. The house of healing. It’s magic, subtly slow. Yet, it washed away my burdens. Without any medications or aid, I finally lived without fear of relapses. Waking to the sounds of the ocean and the kiss of sunlight, something shifted. A chance meeting with a gentle soul, her home fast becoming my peaceful heaven. Her kind words, a guide to my inner truth. A wise soul, willing to give herself and listen to my silent woes. Whilst, Mother Nature kissed my toes in her delicate fragility but her fierce determination undeterred. Its message clear. LIVE. Within her grasp, I realised I had forgotten how. Under the guise of sickness, I merely existed. Here, today- I unburdened myself from another label. 

I am not sickness. I am not abused. I am not a victim. I am not alone. 

The gently welcoming walls of LionHorse, introduced me to a mirror. A pure reflection. A free spirit, its soul illuminating with light, love and life. The vibrations a frequency high. The warm touch of an angel, breathing life into my lost reality. Blindness lifting. A self emerging from broken shells. I finally saw what otherwise I couldn’t. My lion heart, breathing, beating, believing. A home within a home. Peaceful serene calmness cascading against the friction of toxic realities. This world basking in the arms of LionHorse was unlike anything I had seen. I did not believe life as such could exist. Yet, here I was living it. 

I departed with the burning desire to live my inner truth. LionHorse, teaching me a lesson valuable… that thoughts become reality. My reality is not chronic fatigue and my small feet will not willingly walk that path anymore. The sand beneath my toes, my naked flesh soaking in glorious sunlight and the tantalising wind in my hair- a reminder constant. I am not sickness. And I no longer will carry that shame. I am who I choose to be. I choose not to be negative, toxic and angry. Thus, the past, merely that. Within that I will not forget that the memories of my body, were very real but I gave those realities a feast. No more. No more. No more. 

LionHorse helped find my LionHeart. For that I am grateful. Today, I will not be the same as I was three weeks ago. Better still, I will not enable my life to hold on to its pain because that only led me down a dark rabbit hole. One, of not my heart. Today, I see myself as my truth. 

I am light, love, peace. 

Where is your new beginning? 

I want to thank my wonderful hosts for their kindness and support. Please check out LionHorse to heal your heart. 


Within my fingertips, I grasp the soft wings of a butterfly. 

Today, I fly.

My brightly lit colours, dancing in moonlight.

I am free. 

Together, our souls breathing.