Those balls in your head

Be there inside your eyesight
leaving your body
to become something of the air
Fill the room, no longer containing yourself

Oh the boredom waiting in the mind
Leap out of yourself
Don´t expect reasons or motives or signs
Don´t be in there trapped

The finest gift you were given were your eyes
Choose this day to use them as doors
don´t be stuck to the mind´s sticky flaws
Chase the day for what it looks like

Heaven in your breath
Overthrow complaints, memories and pests

We, the children

Stripped down to the bareness of the soul
Cold hard reality exposes us
Our ambitious veins call attention
Tight muscles, we are the shape of the world

We are the bipedal conquerors of the Earth
Our strain, our pressure, our illusory ascension
Shaped by the shores and religious metaphors
Tasted by the water we bathe in

Colored by the sun and stripped down to the bareness of the soul
The minds magic obscures us
Our ambitious hearts call out to the barreness of the soul
Like a patient does to a nurse, the body a hospital

We are misunderstood children roaming the steel concrete immensity
Chemically charged
Shaped by the novel names they´ve given to our limits
As varied in person as the animal kingdom

Bruised by our own trajectories
yet seeking in them for the cure
Dining in our own thought factories
With ambition and religious metaphor

Love wash

 Shower daily
Yet water doesn´t clean you like love does
The mirror can´t heal you
The numbers for progress relieve you

Thumbs up
handshake, hug, kiss
meaningful embrace
A certain quantity of love

The simplicity of it
like water you pour
and water that is poured onto you
A clean soul requires it

For the filth of a soul that can´t love
will only hinder health and help illness
So shower daily in water
and in love

The realm of being

Like a spring bounces
How it bounces back
Like the rocking chair
sliding backward and forward

There's a will to jump
or swing or move
There's a page in the book of being
it's written about you

Blood wins swimming curling
spinning veins conjuring it
encouraging it
yelling it into heat and energy

The air moving in and out of us
 waiting millions of years to fill our lungs
and surf our blood
I'd stand up and declare something worthy of provoking a revolution

Knees springy and hands swinging
Talk you into a bright future
like cows into a new pasture
Though the redundancy of it nurses me lazy

Beautiful farms of people who wouldn't lift a finger
All the same flavor but one that oblivion relishes
Do you want your epitaph to be written across a cemetery smart screen
zero to show for all your time in the realm of being

To know what god is

He is not the creme lilac in the front yard
Nor the purple lilac in the back yard
But he is the paths between them
The steps and the breathing
the shade and the sun

You are in the middle of him
and can not define your existence
Anger rips you as you accuse the universe of being it's toy
You are but a toy unto yourself

Fleeting and futile like a four year old
wishing that the sun would shine through the night
The woman dressed in black is no angel
Neither is the one dressed in white

The spade you dig with finds rock not answers
And as the women pray for you
and as you mistake them as some holy sign
The lilacs come into flower

The four year old is pulled from the front gate
and ushered inside
as the sun sets
Each step toward the front door is a whisper

They may say you can see
make out the shape of him
or prove he doesn't exist
Oh my dear clever pretenders you are the soups aroma

You stray enough to please the world
to please the earth as if it were a nose
Pretending to cultivate something beyond ego
attempting to touch the both lilacs without knowing the shade or the sun
Are you straws for heaven's juice

Or unknowing comedians entertaining some panel of higher awareness
far into the unknown
\Furlongs from the lilacs
Clever pretenders you bend beliefs and taint reality to forge documents that claim...
to know what god is!

Whirring wonderment of life

There's the nourishing cheese by afternoon
by night sweet pungent Indian music and food feed
In the halls of life where you reside there is temptation and confusion
No ears for them as the rhythm achieves

No, no, near the pillars you make yourself deaf to that encroacher
You bless your older family as they prepare vessels
Befuddled by the rhythm, you lost amateur poacher
See how the uninvited friend makes his way to your gold
cloud his mind with promises

And your family sets off
and so do you
Yet you attempt to park on a steep hill of antique shops
Yet there's almost no room for you

Despite the pleasant embrace of the sun
you see the houses of old dead enemies
Their vices have asphyxiated them
since you don't know when

Forgiveness would see you find a fixed parking space
to witness the whirring wonderment of life

Intergallactic conquest of earth

Across the milky way came the fiend's of ufology
setting up surveillance in our solar system
Over years these aliens gauged our technology
It instilled courage in them

Long screaming road trains fill the skies
destroying every military installation they find
preparing the earth like a Christmas turkey
Now they are here, they grew tired of lurking

Drove upon drove of foreign alien armies swarm
recruited from across our galaxy for war
Most stand hopeless against the intergalactic fiend
Yet some took their guns and rejoiced at what they sent.

Sweet answers

Pour me coffee get it lofty
Lets employ the contents of our skulls
Pillow still night sweat wet
let's exchange statistics

I find myself ready to correct
It's just a location in the brain
send that thinking aroma now
So those sweet answers can't start playing

I want you to go into the day knowing
Oh sweet wisdom
I want you to go into the sun savvy and running
To come back tanned and happy

Let's brew this knowledge and get a whiff
Enter the world again wide eyed

The class game

Cushions, old abandoned houses
Roman empire class
One place, earth body
Curiosity rope

Comfort aids the brain
During the class game
Washed in T.V waves
Who is the pilot?

Choose from handy facts
Bankroll fat
Title worthy
A few forum steps from primitive glory

My weary eyed girl(for Maira)

Her fifteen hour days drain her energy
Yet her radiance lingers for when I arrive
Her days are filled with troubled young ones pleading
I do what I can to ease the tension of my weary eyed wife

She is a battler a concerned warrior who can take the heat
Yet the woes of the day gather in her mind to meet
At a table where anxiety eats
I see her vexed and do my best to address each
So pre-eye closing thought might be sweet

The day's problems can be hot and few realize zen
So before they accumulate I attempt to extract them
For she is the girl that made my life twice
My weary eyed girl who is foxy and wise

Bill and Scott

How they pursue what´s out there
Women and Money is all they care for
Bill and Scott desires at war
Nothing rare about them
except their exaggerated Southern drawls

Oh how you let them
They have mastery in offending people
And no one would ever hit them
even as they beg a knuckle to the temple

They sell their talk and their wobbly ambition
and fools buy! Some of them hard done by others wanting anger
The street has bred some that would go for their gun
But sweet words give birth to excuses

Just about as custard as a cozy night´s lullaby
Bill and Scott´ll rob you blind, starting with your eyes

A short rhyme about life

Well it's just a sharp jigsaw
Not a piece was made for you
Yeah you were made for it
Exponential existence

If you've time to dream
Order your jumbled fantasies
to get them closer to reality
While your hearts still beating

If there's a generic secret
Lame conformist guidelines
devoid of meaning indeed
the meaning of life is in you

Locked far away from your conscious state
Conditioned to ignore it for it to be too late
There's a pile of your dreams and a poem about you
written inside the walls of your heart
where you dare not go

Night´s grand harvest

Checking the neighborhood
Like a lost wheelbarrow
Like a van on a slope with it´s breaks off
Harvest the night my will on fire

Door to door trying to lose the counsel man
Invisible creatures tolerate us
Door to door like face to face
people looking out of their Windows

The wheat of the night
Harvested by me to make bread of the heart
eaten by day heartily
each house a new field to see and reap

Counsel man still by my side
complaining of the invisible creatures
Silence while I´m holding the scythe
let them flee like field adders

Be not insistant of their danger
For protest screeches from the cane to the cot
So I´ll roll the dough you get the oven hot
This glorious night will see a fair yield got

What´s the time

Have you the hour
Well I read it on screens
but each one is different
which makes me scream

It´s killing my genetic blue print
to a fervent feeling toward punctuality
So have you got the time
that unreal reality

I get out of bed
legs take me to breakfast
but eyes search for hands and numbers
that cold feeling taps me on the shoulder

Yes that ghoul is lateness
the one we invented to haunt time

not one of you have the right hour though
Not machine nor human knows
Not afternoon sun with late autumn Wind blow
Nor midday drizzle inviting

Greenwich meantime you are no good to me
For I want to live forever
And your reminders of mortality begrieve
We work like that machine cogsfull of clever