Moonrise muse.

Sweet moon touch me with your roundness.
The humble mortal squirrel inquisitive.
Tis I.
Still shy yet ever recognizing-
the thief as time.
And the sweet inspiring as you...
PROXY in my rhyme.
Far away muse.

Like wintercloud´s end

Life passes by like heavy clouds.
Relationships invert.
Pointed icetipped rain find your face.
The angel exits.
The warmth you sought so severly...
The seasons with-held.
Mercy a bankteller exclaiming the
absence of funds.
God arriving briefly to remind you
your souls no longer valid.
Don´t blame it on fate.
Like the clouds of winter´s end...
spring will come and you´ll drift into
nowhere.

Year watcher.

Since childhood the trees near my house,
always kept a shadow.
Not one that matched the suns angle.
Now in the heavy heaving city,
a darkness finds solace again
close to me.
Through the years it has soaked up
 my smiles and frowns,
my laughter and tears!
It has sent me night magic,
and terror.
Never showing so much as it´s face.

Usurp the console

The court a complete mess.
Rhetoric flying across the ravenous
politicians.
Bending and bleeding words
blends of bigotry.
The tongues quest for a scape goat.
Accusations soar like hungry eagles
over a rat infested barn.
Laughing and scoffs meet the ajudicators
requests for calm.
Soldiers enter the forum
 their unison marching-stomp brings silence.
The coup-like tension rises as the console
uses bodylanguage to usher massacre.

Enter Freya

Friday she´ll come with force.
Wonderful Freya atop an insane horse.
Galloping toward the weekend.
Away from dying thor, away from
wicked wotan.
She the teacheress,
She´ll leave Baldur speechless
upon the shores, bounding to me
houndlike a spectacle a luscious mystery.
Bearing that smile such that calms me
before war.
Arriving before me beckoning me to
adore her.

The hurt gets passed around.

What a tragic party.
Snacks are lies and flattering remarks
all revealed as false by the filling- tasty.
Yes then the cantankerous offensive
lets loose.
When the wine and whiskey successfully
probe for the truth.
What a party, what a gas!
Inline to cry after you see the others
misfortune and laugh.
And when the evening freezes
and your brow stiffens like season´s last frost.
You´ve seen truth as scorpions under
Lies such sweet desert rocks.
Now you´ll return no more to pretend,
to the cold and empty.
Illusions once your loudest friends,
leave you now in silence so gently.
The sweet package is you wrapped in
pain and grief.

Fly away from death.

To evade the shadows of the raven.
To wound the imminent.
To bash fate above the head with a
barbed bat.
Take flight into a darkness so black...
And twist flapping and screaming until,
Dawn or the distant explosions light the way
to a new beginning.
To strangle the raven as it attempts to peck
out the eyes.
The bony ragged bird that glistens with
lustre when a fresh soul is named and necked.
Though how shall I take flight from the impending.
When I have neither wings nor feathers.

Tokyo hope.

Years of driven smoldering grimace.
The edge of the river littered with
ribcages-the random boatwreck.
On silty shores of broken promise.
Where the wooden posts were erected
with bite marks that resembled faces.
Pirana artists and termite accomplices.
Near the top where the wood turns black
 the odd gold coin still seems to glitter.
Ambition still feeds the fish
and hope cuts like a samurai!
Each time the bridge is rebuilt
the water runs dry...
and the wood finds fire.
The blind seaside villagers tell their
overbearing chiefs well constructed lies.
Condemnation tastes so salty.

The offender

God will take you literally,
unlike me.
The midnight gator dressed to engulf.
Waiting at the gate of the twelve sins.
Outside your fool chambers.
A smooth outcast, not flaky like the paint on your walls of
expectation.
Drowning your idealism, darkness breathes on me.
Shot juliets lark when i sold the poison.
I the Abandoned bomb factory.
The offender.
I the serious, ugly injury!
A midnight reptile god left like a stray guard dog.
I see the words criminal form on your lips,
I´m the cream of your judgement,
taste me!

Topshelf rhyme

They´re trying and it´s dizzying this flow comes from us the chosen,
the freak in our poems will have you frozen.
Don´t compete just stay on line believing.
That we´ll give you your next line for your
homework or your girlfriend or your lack of seeing...
that life´s made of words arriving and leaving.

Poet´s creation.

I baked my vocabulary,
root words and meaty slangs.
haveya with it!
Yeah I grilled fresh slimey similies
until they could touch tartare-
Like you touch want and heave
for a better word.
I´ve boiled haiku´s with Miehle
And tossed city salad rhyme with filintine!
I´ve burned fine verse with Buhrs,
we´ve decided popular´s a curse.
I´ve had the chef´s Hatt on for words.
Cool, hot, holy and perverse!
I´ve fried wild stanzas in the mind of simon
In the next life it´ll be the same I´m the eternal rhymer.

The raw deal

Chat with farce and frustration and the rest of the
man made mental prisons.
Chat with my maid, life´s harder for the spoilt
in their well paid snake coil.
The raw deal is, some stop feeling-
like fish on some factory line reel
further toward the hook,
or the rockbottom sinker.
Self help the nonthinker,
  the only thing
keeping people reading books.
All feeler, suffer- analyze.
Be dominated by an unfair world.

Eric sickly odin

There he stood before me.
One eye shrunken and blackened.
Why -was he dressed in shadows?
-Was he not descended from light?
Humble as always he appeared before me.
With pure pain in his expression.
If god subjected you to this my dead man...
Then what use is GOD?
The poor spirit could hardly speak,
hark hell had harrowingly had it´s way with him.
He showed the very expression of merciless blows.
Will I thus also be confined after I soon pass away?
Have I not prayed? Have I not forgiven countless times?
near the ranch slider, you´d hear further laughing
at the notion of heaven from my grandfathers son!
One of Eric´s faithless legacies.
My hyperactive origin!
Rich in life and almost in heart.
He the sickly Odin living in one of hell´s east valleys
Must be sprung!
The weight of a spouses suicide cut.
And the soul of a man who fought for good...
freed! Oh god surround us at the ranch slider
for blame is but a worm that freewill overlooks
yet your worthy vision can extract with a glance.

Lose this one.

She went out, barely said goodbye.
Disappointment´s arrow flies.
 
When you´re near an angel
that you slowly grew to love.
When you´re near a lonely man´s
last resort even the time together´s
not enough.
 
Grey routine like cigarrete ash
and no children of my blood.
 
My solitude a sudden flash
when the house is quiet.
Grief speaks to me and says-
"You´ll be without a co-pilot".
 
"You´ll fly solo soon son".
"You´ll not have the dream, the daily grind
or rhyming pun".

The one about the hat.

The jokes and claps.
The badtaste smacks-
from lips, from hits, from
Your personal hell´s own pits.
Under it all protected you may feel.
Hot and sweaty brain swells-
Skin reddens and peels.
How´d you look without that goofy hat?
The one about your head
and the problem it had choosing-
the round upside down vessel
that covers that little tuft left.

The feeling outside

Come out in the glare and share this semidust,
Twighlight heat from the long burst of a day.
The sun so tough, so bold and brazen.
We almost become embers.
Most of us are salty raisins.
The suns sugar forever.

Tips for yearning

Let me introduce you to the human bigaouf.
Human and the touch and instinct of the hunting dog. 
Bad idea to decieve we who´ve watched you eat
and each night deeply breathe.
You pretending to be something you´re not
I´m on you like yachfiddle rot.
Go out posing and i´ll mark your living as if
it´s not.

Your thrills

And I´ve seen your pipe.
I´ve seen your yellow and brown skin both aiming at gold like hot cold revolver.
I´m here.
Even after death I´m here.
I´ve seen your trigger like a bonnet.
Were you a present? On what kind of time bomb?
I´d pay a million just to see you brilliant.

Admire this...

Wow look upon us.
Wow us flatter us.
Butter us with flowers.
And batter us with compliments.
Fry us in golden oil.
Spend hours wondering about me.
Let it turn into one of those fantasies...
That gets you to sleep.
Have I become the longing?
This noone I am.
This man.

Reckon again

Look at the crowd.
Clap and sing becoming part of the ring.
Shocked by the circus act I am.
The beast unfed I am.
Reckon again the tamer´s dead and I´m...
Moving in your direction my stomachs rumbling.
Whip and claw the circus act creating mass commotion.

You´ll choose

On the horizon of your dreams looms storm clouds
of sacrifice.
You´ll be found in them!
So get stuck in it.
Be struck by it.
The horizon like tomorrow moves on as we progress.
So look toward it.
Be infatuated.
Wish the day to come.
Like a mirage as your eyes adapt to the landscapes
the unknown is no longer a mystery.

Subtle way they mock...

They put it down with an angle.
They´ve loaded a gun with their vest made of teflon.
They´ve redied themselves for the deflection.
I never thought of myself as immortal.
My dream helmet and dream shield.
It was no evil.
 No evil.
No here I would be.
And my very power is in the subtle way they mock me.
Their very tone of voice changes when they think of me.

Her colours have stunned me, I´m breathless.
]Oh the ice haze has come down like a curtain
and i´m going to break.
I´m so drawn, I feel like the frozen ponds surface
is going to break under my weight.
Well i guess i deserved it with
50 million killer tonnes of my lust.
 
Memories will peel my skull and chest back
scratching my heart and mind.
Freezing me up!
Will god abandon me?

Ship´s captain

He never revealed himself.
But I had no doubt.
We could see the barbwire
and chimneys as everyone jumped out.
We found our gate in a trailor in a carpark.
A young boy came running like an angry shark.
Wrestless, frustrated he slammed car doors for years.
He got to our trailor as an old man impatient
and full of fear.
He quickly stole the keys and opened the trailor´s gate.
We didn´t flinch or even blink for here you can´t bend fate.
He dropped the keys.
I picked them up and the captain and I could now see...
The old man´s shaking hands, as we went on board
to comfort him.
The captain spoke of -the miracle of laughter
-the growing grin happily ever after, -indestructable optimism
and true joys, the names of the blessed.
The old man was once again the child
not wrestless, not reckless but knowing and mild.
Christ was the captain, I the semiconscious disciple.
Late for class.

The overbearer

Petrol burns in lakes.
Combustible futures hell created the tea fest.
And the belly button republicans.
Petrol burns in lakes and your souls are presold.
Sell us litres of the earth´s validity.
Chewing you up in hell with an octopus´ beek!
Cute as you as the shadows seek, buy more!
Lie more through the ground god speaks.
Judgement clouds you monotonous whore!

The wandering path(Clair)

When I went back home.
you on your deathbed.
How´d you know I´d lead you to the
world of trapeze.
Where you would own that smile forever
and encounter Unsurmountable peace.
Over artificial beaches and plum trees.
Over alpha male competition.
I rise out of delivering thee.
As a child down the wandering path.
Unworried by the predator who breathes in
the very same breeze.
I extended it and cut thou that beared claw.
Beyond traffic.
Beyond night.
You remain!
God grants you eternal peace.
Strong winds will test me and muses will vex me.
But you´ll be flying the eternal joy of the trapeze.
Clair, forever...

The same are we?

We´ll end up hurting people.
The same art we not?
The devil squeals and laughs.
His bellow blew up your skirt!
You´re a short fall to the ninth level girl.
Lick me with your lava tongue.
d*mn me forever.
Childish notions burnt.
Pitch forks and imps in our back yard.
Why don´t we make love by the fireplace...
My fuse my blues my shining hot muse.

I shook a lie

I shook the lie like moises did the burning bush.
Tense and red we all suffer our dishonesty.
Temptation´s shiny ruse showers down through R.E.M.
Murdering faithful like Cane and Abel.
Preoccupied with luxious as I sleep in bed.
Welcoming politely these fancy fantasies in my head.
When man´s energy for the flower errupts.
His beautiful rules are scribbled out with a quill that corrupts.
Dreams that send us chasing sirens into glistening wakes-
Leave us drying on salty shores abandoned,
thirsty and poorer than before.
Shaking these lies...
What good am I?

Consumer networth.

Buy your life,
cost effective you consumer.
Get in line, the line of credit,
The queue your a victim.
Spend that check
on a honeymoon dream.
And the novelties that adorn
a midlife chrismas.
Still no compromise.
Reaching for your own self worth in dollars...
And making the world pay
because your cheap.