To teach us forests are ugly

The hundreds of children
wanting fresh air and good advice
love and things to do
Forgotten books

Born to correct sitting in their circles
humbled by themselves
 draw them to the sun
 stop them from going to the forest

There is no magic book
no one real answer
we can't well count the blades of grass or leaves of trees
SO look away from them, look away

For from the rooms they were shunned
 from the door way awaited to leave
and into the forest the children go
out of control and against orders

curiosity is a mad horse
for the forest is not a tree filled shaded garden
It is the edge of the city full of littered bushes
It is where the plastic bags and dubious business is done

I try to call them out of the forest
into the sun they go to be born again far from the freak show
Their parents biggest sin was to desecrate such a wondrous place
the children learn in the sunshine on the grass not tempted by messy lies

religious complaint

 work on that complaint
stretch it out so the world can fit inside the thing
ruined offerings rot in the early dry spring
Trip me up rubbish for hell gain

 grievances like tadpoles becoming dragons
  rumors faithful to the leaches
 devour hearts, fantasy has a science
colleagues have alliances

Beliefs fuel action, puppeteers
 believe them so convincing bust
 like broken records, we blindly walk
 believe they preach

 know of the beyond

 symbols fantasy truths con-artists at work
Hussle me hussle you
make us unworthy of even gratitude

God's very currency,
lie sewn together with a few half truths

Just a layer in a city sandwich

Here's a splendid quote from wondrous times past by, one you could paint
up the side of your super poo shooter of a boat
Life's a shit sandwich are served very well?
Served well as if I had shit to go around! Big eyes attract people's own destruction no dead rooster is going to give others what's mine.

No curses but these pretentious outbursts from people in this dirty city

As if I got there conduct on my chest sharp wits instead of this blunt tongue
Politeness eyes not on breasts I guess the game is at its best when we
pretend etiquette before we shamelessly bite
Don't offer if it's got to go down your food pipe

Seize the day and the half dead mooses shithole
A hunter in the country that's how we've been trained
And drink yourself into morning anxiety prematurely celebrating
The lack of a fuck I could give shines luxuriously at 6am
better pep that grain dreamer no pain no gain between the slices just pure shit bitch!

The best day in any cocky wide-smiling power hungry managers life
is when he fires you, he loves it!
When those words pass those lips, fantasies are now becoming reality
it's like the guy no one liked just got layed today and emptied full capacity on unwanting ears
Management creates the crisis it's an unstable world Mcdonalds doesn't do the dishes.

Yes right up that cockroller of a boat everyone would give their left testy to own
and lifes a shit sandwich so make bank because through the eyes of the world
you are a useless piece of nothing without your gold your stock or your green
contempt from women, ridicule from peers if you don't make bank you might as well wank yourself to death dreamer forget child labour and get some young wings and wongs to replace the seamstress

Yes form that lovely squeezer of a positive motto that washes your brain ceaselessly
That big lie or piece of the truth so small and irrelevant that its just big enough to fit into your ambitious bumhole thanks for playing.

Squabbles and Babbles

All judge
alone
Energy goes
jokes over

Grins grind
and swinging replies dive into ears not wanting to listen

headaches tear and paranoia glares
and glares behind tired eyes

Conversations were sent to you
squabbles and babbles on the bus
Tight chest and ringing ears
your just a sensitive fuss

The frontal lobe booms
No peace nor a friend
Pointless conversations and ridiculous puns
urinate all over the inner walls of the bus

Not a friend out there
Not one
Just a few people to let you know what you are not doing
Just a friendly reminder that you're not good enough nor worthy

and those spots in the darkness tear at me
the headache gets blinding
negative thinking could steal your mind
but you keep waking up

Queues and waiting rooms

Who is to blame for leaving us in the lurch
eyes swap faces each minute in a frustrated search
alas the culprits sit among us not as our boredom heightens to level grey
and find new ways to waste our time and save their money from honorary desks far away

Look around do we question ourselves what kind of trick would we play to go next?
Are we honest waiters or would we cut in line if undetected
Forget the others like smiling nobles only when accused quite surly
just to be attended a few minutes earlier?

And the room rolls over with complaint
nothing but pushing buttons on phones our touch screen saints
not to the rescue, a few hopefuls flirt and the rest resigned sigh deep
The security guards try to console the  waiters who have other places to be

To no avail as we all grow stale together waiting for our number
To resolve a problem we were there last week to fix yet here again ho hum
Oh bless these fidgeters and attempting go getters when will they ever fold
So we don't get our tax back and bureaucracy can swallow us whole

it seems we will drown before the governments stomach acids consume us

Access to God

The drug dealer politician is already dead
he pulls his own head off to look around
he can't see the bleeding stump that is his neck
He deals everywhere even at the church where his family pray

He loves to talk about god
The only thing he knows of god is the feeling of power he has in his own heart
When he bribes cops or has his cronies shoot at rivals
Holding his own severed head above his shoulders he says he knows god

His religious family blind themselves sensually as planned
as he parades through his own house, severed head in his hands
they pray before meals and ask for god's blessing as they sign a pact
with a lowly demon from the mainland who runs crack

The island only has a few disgruntled citizens whose loyalty isn´t sold
They want to leave even as the drug dealing politician offers them golden blindfolds
and seats at his special church where people get better access to a God who knows
His head screams from above the bloody neck, neck veins pumping blood out like a volcanoe
Like gasoline pouring down from the monopoly´s franchises or whisky out of the comatosed alcoholic's mouth
A million dollar crucifix can´t heal you now

Empress of creation, and the glutton of expectation

The kingdom is being built
all is magnetized by working hands
a storm is forming to water the fertile lands
and to lay waste to gluttony

The four necessities are painted on my heart
the ones that affirm creation on earth's hard surface
and the path to heaven after I have triumphed
or failed to shape earth and form alliances

The eternal apprentice gets ready
Wielding a hammer and the four necessities
Beyond good intentions led astray
Give God's hand ink I pray

To sign a covenant to the road we pave
and to remind us daily of the four necessities
God give our clean hearts to the priestess
and our minds to the negotiation table

Hold the empress' hand afore the white rose
balance the tides and tsunamis of her temper
So the imminent destruction doesn't render
everything we built to rubble and cinder

The child

Never swallowed the affirmation of being naiive
Or some obligatory slight of hand was the only way to achieve
What happens, what lights up the dark
Eyes open and so many things are revealed

The gullible child that wishes the world was honest
idealistic and unrealistic
Hoping and praying that his path won´t be corrupted
the child learns what kind of beast it is

Where these rivers join

Where these eyes have met each other
From different colored faces
Where these mouths have kissed each other
love behind lips so gracious

Where this love was born
 A curious extended glance
Not knowing we would have sworn
To wedlock our hopeful hearts

And there flows our dreams and passions
down two rivers that meet
Our love is no longer rationed
abundant and complete

Where these rivers join is where our hands clasp
Where our life goals intertwine
and where destiny gasped
as sober fate did us combine

The elixir of life is our union

Fire thrill

Oh how the audience of angels and demons awe at your panic
Racing toward the exits, fire crawling along like a one year old baby
The smoke rises like the steam from moist warm morning pastures
Like naiive souls rising from lifeless forms

New beginnings as the guard smashes the glass to switch the alarm on
The noise is a standing ovation from the audience of angels and demons
who had their two weeks leave extended by god almighty and the devil frightening
Their clapping is feet running sprinting and hobbling toward the stairs and elevators

Smoke filled building creeks of fire flooding into the corridors
Upstairs the fire stares at the roof jumps over legs that stampede this way and that
The main doors open up at ground level the building empties like a trough being kicked
yet no water will be spilled over that inferno and the angels will go home before halftime

Where were the heavenly fire engines to arrive to save the trapped
Why were the cherubs not admitted and imps allowed to laugh on evil laps
Some frustrated angels tried to get a discount at the ticket office
alas the clerk was a purgatory atheist and thought they were impersonating

The cinammon

The tree is slow
The spice of the forest floor
The shy
The scent through the leaves

Arriving to the nose
Aroma has burst
quiet forest floor
A piece of the world that speaks to the mouth

The humid lift
full of chronic flavour
summer tinges in
the palate and the smell

The flux(heraclitis constant)

That same water
You got out from swimming down stream with it
short cool thrill
Jump out grab your things chase that water down

You´ve got to dive once again
 before that water spills into the salt mass
Find that patch of that same water
is it dirtier is it discoloured has it, by god, changed?

Up to your knees
over your head
profound slow flowing depths
Those ripples caused by panic will fade into the water never seen, recorded nowhere

Down the rapids the seconds, hours and days
the hissing as relaxing as watching the sands empty from the hourglass
The white water slowly cutting away at the rock and the margins
The trench as changing as the water itself and dreams like flashfloods changing the world