Südliche WALPURGISNACHT

Creeping back to life, brewing in the deep dirt.
Invigorating waves, a fresh vibration.
To the noble witch, regeneration.
A higher sun, a tree top full.
A real and sacred manifestation.

New leaves explode, new flowers and aromas.                                    
The weather surrenders to the angels of the seasons.
Hills and mountains witness the earths magic,

and bless it with their essence and worship it freely.               




Buds of our southern september ending the month in resplendor.
Warm breezes break the spirit of frost chasing winter south.
In every plant a power surges, an invisible fire.
The beginning has begun again.

This flow of rhyme

This flow of rhyme, unpredictable and mine.
Absurd and meaningful, ridiculous and fine.
Be a witness to every line I each day deliver.
Try to damn this river.
Burn these stairs leading out of the gloom.
Turn these deep green grasses into dunes.
Curse it, smash it with a mace it wont break.
Burn these stairs, these letters and see if you get nearer,
to proving your point or breaking down in tears.
As subtle innuendos rain down , rattle the senses
and render them defenseless. This flow beyond time,
this flow, this appaling style of rhyme.
Using words like this should be outlawed as a crime.
Wont stop it though, heed the Sign.

Sharp remarks

A voice so shrill and blunt.
Bent on on being right.
A tongue so sharp and hard.
A tongue like a knife.
Become proud and faultless and tell us...
How we should live our lives.
A voice so indignant restrained in spirit.
No doubts in the conclusion, promise, swear it.
A voice so carried by anger, dare to share it?
Outrage in every word, dear dear.
Some kind of message, a popular idea heard.
Settle and reflect.
Rest that tired mouth.
Life´s a giant spec, not a simple answer now.
Life´s alittle light a little dark,
Life´s alittle grey in a way, somehow.
Never in need of some quick judgement...
Some divine conclusion, not requiring sharp remarks.
Put away lofty ideas, contrasts fade like skin will.
Anothers shoes can be awkward, so let the tongue find reason and not the point of a knife.

Fortune teller

The way is gone, a path now eaten by the jungle floor.
You can hope for the past back and all your perceived glories.
Of only your old habits can you be sure.
Toward the future there´ll be no real sign, just a lonely tree.
Footprints wash away in the rain, find your way back but it´s not with the same eyes you see.
Lights that shone on nights when you felt like a star, you reached your maximum height.
What can you expect but a mixture of tomorrow unlike your foresight.
The string has been cut and to turn back now would be foolish.
You´ll never be truly lost on this round planet, only for the things you wish.
Dawn will help swallow the predictions of yesterday, sweet.
And when you search for the tree, maybe you´ll find a stump and a rock.
It´s just a sign of the times if you´ve courage to face the clock.
Paths that could have taken you places far away.
Now you´ll live in the world that you made, you´ll remain.
You´ll be careful with your dreams and you´ll have to stay.
Hope the sunrise comes in to burn the dust and make you brave.
For your home has become a grave before you´ve even gained a wrinkle.
The same old talk even on this new day, same old songs you still sing.
Seconds laugh while the minutes run by, sleepness nights made up of useless thoughts and uncontrolled sighs.
The way is gone the weather blew it out. Such an abstract idea like ten years from now.
Even if for one glance behind destiny´s curtain was allowed.

Brave among friends

Ridiculing and using subtle humour.
Wearing your combination, predictable colours.
Cheering and booing your life belongs in the crowd.
Brazenly insult them sitting amongst your friends.
Words come out of your mouth like the money that you spend.
One dark day you´ll know, just like the money that you owe.
Your way is quite pretend.
Nothing matters, man is but a sloth.
The couch, the factory and reality t.v you watch.
Television sports and junkfood grow your belly into a pot.
Why worry leave it in the hands of god, only your team matters.
After games, running loose breaking things, windows shatter.
Would you have the courage alone?
Teach your children to take life for granted, and never think on their own.
But you´ve duped nobody except yourself cheering for stupidity.
Dreaming of wealth, and practicing some false version of humility.
For knowledge you have scorn, empathy only when you mourn. 
Poverty is a mindset, and one things for sure-
It works well for people with a real fear of being poor.

Ignus Fatuus

 
 It´s that flourescent light in the dell illuminating the creek.
Does it call us or warn us or not even know we´re here?
Impatient leaving the tavern and ambitious for a shortcut.
Curiously he goes after the spark, though the grass and land is flooded.
He follows it into the wetlands until he´s knee deep in mud.
That distant spark that warms his heart and gives him hope to trudge.
Now waist deep, stationary wet and ready to weep.
The spark has left him stuck, and the sounds across the putrid waters seem to cackle "bad luck"!
Panic sets in like a spider bite and the mouth itself spontaneously begins to shout.
For the warm aura of the nights ale is gone and the beacon of hope is out.
Until the chest goes the black rotting peat and the feeling departs from his now buried legs and feet.
Something flies across the swamp a little bigger than a bat, terror paralyzes his scrambling arms.
It settles not far from him on what looks to be a log, and the sound of it´s voice is good cause for alarm.
"What would you trade to rid yourself of your predicament?"
Knowing the price he replied fearfully "Not a cent."
The tone did change like the growl of a feline thus the dark figuire pleaded- "Will you stay here to slowly sink and even more slowly lose your life and drown?"
He uttered "I´d prefer to die here struggling, than suffer an eternity deep down."
The figuire hissed and took wing, the log it was on suddenly opened it´s eyes and in his direction began looking and approaching at a lizards stride.

Profound?

Profound?
Rhymes I concoct esoteric and strange, what is their essence, are they even deep?
Or just simply plain.
Certain words i´ve taken for their definitions, however cheap like a child´s game.
Can i distract your mind with a few of my lines, or does your attention hesitate to leap?
Caged by the brain.
Play with your emotions in an insane jungle of stanzas.
Hit your thoughts and feelings with some of my abstract manners.
Or do you turn your eyes away, because you can´t stand it?
Such confusion and chaos in a ball of light, what will be it´s cost?
Away from flesh these words may penetrate your heart and thaw it´s frost.
Alas these poems be not profound, to the contrary using the inexistant antonym...
Perfectly and proposterously proLOST.
Will I let light Out When I spread poetry?

Carve up the squid.

CARVE UP THE SQUID

It landed on the slippery sidewalk, helpless pile of legs and sea weed.
It fell out of the sky, still wriggling like a child with A.D.D.
A little girl and her mother were walking by.
The girl made a point of walking right over it leaving her little footprints up the side of it. Grotesque and wild.
It landed on the slippery sidewalk. It fell out of the sky right outside a butchers shop and a cellar full of lies and expensive wine.
Still wriggling like a dog riddled with fleas. The dark shadows arrived with cases full of knives and cut the squid all over. Tearing it´s flesh, you could hear coughs and through the slashing even moans.
This was no normal squid it had bones and blood.
The shadows worked hard with their razor sharp knives and carried the bones to the cellar of lies.
A world without compassion.
It landed on the sidewalk, it fell out of the sky at night.
Out of hunger or hope it´s mission went awry.
On the face of our dinner tables, on the face of this round planet, exists a darkness waiting.
And every squid or beast that falls will meet their knives and mouths salivating.

Taste this day

Taste the day.
Here´s the blended morning with soup for a sky.
Half sunny and cloudy, no z´s to sleep, no tears to cry.
Near midday in some dim kitchen tell me will you cook something as the afternoon consumes the rest of the day?
It´ll be all over soon like some semi sweet dream, stop and savour it one moment as time slips sneakily by it seems.
Get a mouthful of this traffic despite it´s evil´s, the flavour could be much worse.
The road´s so dry it could use some sauce. Or a drink to quench it´s thirst.
Your appointment didn´t arrive on the table, no steam no aroma just an empty eggshell.
You can search for tomorrow and install it like a cable, a machine but leave today where it fell.
And taste it, smell it, for it´s empty plates and dirty dishes still remain before the next dawn breaks.
The flavour fades like so many memories blocked out by your obsessions.
Taste this day.

Carlos was a prophet

Along the lakes side, and how am i to believe.
The grass blown just well enough to form what looks like hands, sending for me.
And what would you want with an accident like me...
Across the bridge you called me but i wasn´t happy to cross why did you call me?
And here i am infront of you and the honest, why´d you call me.
And i never felt like i belonged and now i´m home is there such a place?
And the water running made so much sense.
I don´t know why your eyes were covered for?
Showed me miracles like you had some factory pumping them out by the thousand.
How do you know I´ll fit in, will you steal me away from this earth.
The reflection in the lakes confirmed you.
But i still feel ashamed. Unworthy. Damned.
Those new worlds so fresh you´d prepared, and here we are with rubbish tips.
And you still hold this invitation? You still believe i belong?
My many flaws disgraceful and sore, yet you´re ready to send me there?

You´re flirting with lonliness.

In the corner of your house where you go to brood and think about love.
In the moment you notice how alone you really are...
You´ll fantasize for half an hour before you wake...
And see... Life´s saying goodbye through the minutes that pass by.
You´ll put up with the little nothing given and tell yourself it´s enough to get you through.
And that pain burns as a mountain on fire.
Life´s saying goodbye and you´re nodding like some word made sense.
In the corner of your house where you go to brood and think about how things could have been.
In the moment you notice reality sometimes doesn´t cater to your needs...
You´ll fantasize for about an hour before you see me.
And see... time was more brutal to the mirror obsessed.
In my absense you´ve been flirting with lonliness.

False me...

As I stand infront of you all, look upon this artificial exterior. I´m unreal and pretending in your area...
This smile I use not as an expression, these exaggerated words i speak. My fake way of giving my fake lesson and the way i´m bragging when i peak... see right through when i grow faded and weak, missout on my flow, lose my glow and drink my falseness.
Am I fake? Is my drop of dishonesty filling up a lake in me... have no faith in me!
Nothing real behind these eyes, mind, and i pretend to live, and devise new disguises cause even the animal inside the real me is full of even better crafted lies.
I´m duplicitous, my intentions hide in the darkest mists, you´ll catch them but you´ll be missed, drowning in my swamp cause i´m willo the fucking wisp, keeping it unreal and twisted, just the way you like it downright villianous, you can still take the piss. 
I´m truly false in every sense, I don´t know where my integrity went. I might aswell be made of wax in the absense of authenticity, in the pool of untruthful facts.
I´m a story full of holes that a filthy pervert told. I´m more fake than flattery for the rich, a taxidermists stitch, more false than a corpses pulse, zero values, no soul.
Don´t waste your time deciding if i´m lying, cause my whole life´s a facade reflectionless shards of glass. Fire to the past. Expressionless heart seldom beats fast.
Every day an act on stage cause i dare not be real, there´s the danger to feel.
How did i get this way prohibited to express, and create this convenient bullshit mould.
Cause I AM FORCED TO LIVE IN YOUR FALLACIOUS, PHONY, SHAM OF A WORLD... get that.

Only the sun.

But, only the sun.
Show me the world, get your head around the globe.
Touch the polar ice caps, slide across the continents.
Jump the islands and land on one to sleep. Swim the straits alongside dolphins.
Pierce the clouds and taste rainbows. Own the wind and embrace the trees.
Dress the mountains in ice and curve their rocks with your hands.

Stand with me on this plain and flirt with the moon in silence.
Bathe in the sea and create waves that ride miles.
Bless the forests from their shady interiors to their leafy exteriors.
Drag the rivers along where it may tickle your fancy.
Caress the hills like they were breasts round and grassy.

Only the sun reminds us to wake from playing god.
The omens of dawn more real than Nostradamos.
And the secrets of dusk more sacred than scripture.
The rays of midday are a parents hand guiding you.
Only the sun reminds, recharges and can renew.

My defect.

My defects are in triple digits and as i age...
I can´t manage to change the way they want...
My defects are such diamonds i´d bet my wage...
About a hundred mistakes in one week, almost one a page.
Thousands of little errors, there for scaring envy.
And I know them myself so don´t bother to send for me.
Could you conceive I´ve enough faults to fill a nuclear bomb explosion.
I´m a freak wave, an eruption, and on your grassy hill I´m the ghastly errosion.
Maybe here on the other side of the world it´ll be safe...
No there´s no denying i´m an eternal disgrace.
So wrong, messed up big time, wrong time, wrong life, wrong place.
The downside always presents itelf sooner or later.

It´s an addiction...

Holy holy greatness.
Evangelism crack and catholic cocaine. Righteousness is the worst of me.
Mormon meth and jehova heroin, can we refrain?
Corruption juice i need, I haven´t had enough and i´m thirsty.
Just one more hour of tricking ourselves and we´ll be right for the rest of the week.
Take my drivers license and my stupid vote. A crabs mouth doesn´t leak.
Take my buisiness for 25%. And in two weeks make my kids tweak
Tax me until I grow thin, my musics rhythm will continue,
and my team could win... Pity about this excess pollution.
As we fantasize about leaving this land of plenty for some mighty illusion!
At the same time it´s all the fault of some town planner, a lack of education, a lack of manners.
And perfect you must suffer for your honest ways, that´s right you never played anyone.
Honest you... you are going to see...
Criminals plague and run the outskirts and even the cops are ansy.
Holy holy nothing, take the country, take more working man´s money for some quack with a speech.
The pavement cracks under politicians feet, and the rubbish flows behind the preacher.
Now I lust, I lie and i´m greedy but what you´re doing is feeding the honorable leacher.
Join the chorus of the complacent and the apathetic you´ll only aid the tides of the devil with a bible in your hands.

Is that what we are?

I see us all marked by street lights and cars and apartment buildings, concrete mass.
Is that what we are?
Burning the gas and burning these dry woods, smoke and fumes.
Where can the open lung not suffer?
Halls and corridors cells and cellars, cabins and rooms.Upon the road is the movement of forward as in the glass as in the metal.
I see us all marked by numbers and digits in abstract devices. See us all positioned to enlarge the city.
Is that what we are?
Did we come to be egyptian slaves? Did we come not to question but to obey like slaughter house beef?
Have we a plan so defined in this notion of existance that to stray from it, would be against the very direction of the blood in your arm.
Waiting for tomorrow to free the small when they would lift us so much higher, yet we starve them.
Is that what we are? Do we turn them away?
In lines to the city limits, in queues to the culdesacs, we wait like hungry seagulls...
There´ll be not a scrap left on the stained mantle for any. When the few make you think they´ve something they haven´t got!

Joy in two arms

Love the way you like to simplify this world for us all.
Thirsty for that optimism, like i´ll ever taste it right?
Gotta love the way it could be put out there to be sold.
And maybe it was just your beauty and my lonliness.
Did you choose your dusk? Choose to blend yourself?
Is there much feeling between your two arms?
Do we choose everything we´ve got?
What is install for me?
Does he trade in black and white and guide you?
No victims, but why do i see pain in your eyes... That pain, don´t call me closer.
So simple, does it all fit, is that your sentence.
The power in beauty, can there ever be truth aswell?
Did you choose the water you drink drop by drop?
Your perfect man that holds your life together.
Where my heart goes i´ve no idea, and my dreams float with it alas that isn´t me...
That isn´t the way i feel, and everything I plan is sabotaged by my passion and instinct.
Your hair is teasing me again in the two seconds that I glimpse you.
Can I choose that?
Your skin shines even in the shadows of the most gloomy corridors, and should I look away?
That´s all I can choose to do. You know it all like some well repeated act.
How much joy could there be between two arms?
Should I keep these emotions as if some sign from god or...
Should these emotions be flushed, but they hold like some parasite.
I´ll be gone before they sour, my few words would remain.
Dreams of water and dusk and offers from your sure knight.
No... I want nothing from him.

LOve bats

Are our hearts not yearning, cupidity and ravenousness? Like nocturnal beasts they play.
Once my eyes were stolen by it, and thank mercy mine again just roll away.
It´s not a choice you make, and if it is- it´s fake... on your interests, your career and what´s at stake.
No love´s a bat that carries you, or let´s you fall and drains you, an animal that worships the moon.
It hangs in our own hearts, and it´s desire is to tear us apart.
It´s not about seeking somebody needy, or leaving the past behind.
It´s not about flying out with the soul intention of finding someone who´s kind.
Sometimes beyond lust, it drives us and before it departs we hunger, we surely pine.
A flying creature using sonar, with the air and the night it binds.Love is a bat fraternizing with our vulnerable hearts and minds.
It´s a mystery, and if it´s real, it´s just as truly BLIND.

Tame the rays of sunlight.

Above.
From up high, ear muffs.
Big headed pilots... Breaking clouds.
Helicopter blades, duck your head and hold your earmuffs.
Above your ears in the sky.
Horizon taunts you, the horizon haunts you.
Try to tame this sun, because i´ve surrendered.
Pacifists are conspiring. 
You can hear the rotation of the head.
From the blue behind you look down on all of us.
You can´t compete with the sun...
We never guessed you were imortal, and when you fall...
Fresh Tears from god couldn´t quench your thirst.
Tame the rays of the sun from where they hit your face.
Above like some important mission to save the world...
It´s urgent, it´s top fucking priority...
It´s nothing, it´s nowhere and noone is interested. People want to hug some sealed poster.
Some celebrity wax figuire, some sterile signed article they can lay with.
Above the clouds, near the darkness of space, the sun will have you.
Sunlight, dries up the very ambition that frost once formed.

Walk a mine field

Measure this time, measure these moments, we´ll see, let´s see...
Walk a mine field comrade, follow me because the suburbs will eat you.
Measure this great road, you´ll see, you´ll explain but you´ll never know.
Walk with me today, you cannot follow the book it´ll tie you to a signpost forever.
Walk with the measuring tape in your hand, be blunt when you speak and we´ll see...
Measure how far you´ve come and what does that mean? Are you good enough now? Let´s see.
Left to walk home from the mine field with a thousand spectators praying for my death... We´ll see
They can´t take much more from me, soaking up the laughter i´m an amputee hobling into the jungle.
My heart beats yet they cut my cord...
I fly yet they´ve clipped my wings...
No book alone will save you, standing in the solemn suburbs a signpost fever is what you are.
Praying for miracles... meet me in the minefield.

Like a roadside weed

Like a roadside weed...
There´s toad stools on the edge of the pine forest,
There´s thistles on the edge of the pasture.
Sometimes it´s useless looking for a tree amongst the tallest,
When an abundant bush can be just the cure.
Where cars pass by, and wanderers try,
Where tired hitchhikers tramp, and those of no patience camp.
Where i walk like a roadside weed.
There´s stunning palms at the foot of these beaches.
On the river banks are willows toward the water ever reaching.
And for those that grow anywhere and neither follow nor lead,
Are the species that grow like a roadside weed.

Dying stoic

What is this reality? A stoics path here ends... But was the witness as settled as the afflicted.
This firm spirit now departing from a barren table for the vultures.
A spirit unwilling to enter the nightmares we invite, nightmares that become us.
The stoic dies, intimate with lack. In some parallel universe the same young child dies among the new wheat, plough in hand.
His last breaths a soft melody for the fresh crops.
Alas in this world a desert has swallowed him.
What is this reality in which pain is tamed? In which suffering is neglected?
Graceful in the face of burning fields and stolen yields, I wish to hold your forgotten martyrdom and lend it to the kings of industries.
Postcards from hell are painted on the inner walls of his young mind, this dying stoic, this dry child.
Despite the illness and biting flies...
Glimpses of a brighter world in the dying stoics eyes, heavens hopes all stored in the attic of his dreams.
The rich seem furnish little, their desires are unfortunate and unclean.