Somewhere off the coast

A hundred legs bend and straighten across the nylon sea floor
All in their own directions, their own degree of haste and sails
The low lights dull our faces as the footfalls dull our ears
Down the concrete steps the bladder almost busting
Past the half burnt carts of food vendors and peddlers

Then into the overpowering light and stench of the public toilet
The hand size square white tile walls stained with mystery colors
The cleaners running desperately in and out of each bathroom
Like a dog fish into the concaves of the coral reef
heaving soaked mops as if it were a flaming heavy lance
As quickly as I entered did I leave

The bus a whale beached
Still empty
A tweeking cellphoner here and there
The bus flips it´s tail down we´re gone
as if the city were an ocean that shone

Blabbin bearded elf

The blab elf speaks for sport
Yeah a tad, but this beard comes a little short
and a thousand social norms dictate and pinch
that you graciously grow it another inch

And wherever you pick fruit from the orchard
Know it is about as appropriate as that inch too short
The blab elf has not devised a progress report
At the monthly meeting he pulls his wild card

And the same old buzzword pops like popcorn
at around the time they need some hype horn
Those lips between that facial hair start to flap
It´s crowding his mouth like a bristly welcome mat

Best of luck to the blab
They hired him on his gift of the gab
But off his chin there was hardly enough to grab
Make it last they say, don´t make it a twinkling fad

Chin up I said, though didn´t share his persuasions
Good luck with your corporate fruit picking and private frustration

Grease monkey down Jule´s bones

Twenty five layers of grease have accumulated
It´s as stained as the way of life fake gold plated
Idle and smiling no sweat
five millimeters of ash hanging off the cigarette

Dirty brown hair tangled through with grey snakes mucky
Out in the pre-midday burn as happy as they were lucky
local snacks half emerging from oily paper bags
A sudden twitch of desire shakes a joke close to bragging

another burst of laughter as their customer´s truck appears
pulling in and pounding down a gear to make a repair
The ash falls and eyes raise up at the sound
The idle smiles curl back round

Zipping up soot soaked jump suits work I´m afraid
The end of the day is still a year a way
Back into the shadows of the workshop
Coffee pot down to the last dark drop

A sudden twitch of desire to get a joke in
but soon subsides as the customer shows him what´s broken

Breeze to monday for tools

Breezing past the two motionless tools
tools that should love each other
Work and boredom collide
The word mediocre gets thrown around

Two mediocre tools stalled
Who just hang on the wall
waiting for Monday
Waiting to earn pay

And the breeze passes by
but the screens is all they feel
the dead screens and the weeks obligations
They slowly forget they were born to feel

Born with more ambition to be sedentary
More physical energy than to be stationary
They don´t care anymore showing every sign
They can´t relate they just make the deadlines

King of eternity

King of eternity

Often I falter even when the stretch is flat and easily navigated
Like the wet sand within the tides reach
The dizzying sky calling you from all directions with it's winds
and the crash of the waves distracting you from your journey
Just empty shores undone sea

And suddenly you've stood on a shell
You limp and hear the wind taunt all is not well
The waves rush and attempt to trip you up
Turn on the wet sand and see god holding the shell
Justifying eternal sanity's useful silence

Not a religious figure not a miracle or illusion
Not a blinding light or sacred shining spirit
Just god in plain cloth offering you the shell
listening to you in a way that makes you feel he's speaking
Juggling empathy, sincerity, untainted sympathy

Just when you thought there was no other confidant
No other source of comfort, nothing
just you walking lonely upon the empty shores
But you were wrong and he is present

wind burned but clean he makes you believe
That our plight lies so far from our pain

Teeth, tongue and Digestion

One side of the table is in the shadow
redness and shadow
Doubt surrounds the optimistic at that table
Friends went ahead and tried to discourage love

Sharp teeth surround the gums humid and loud
The nature of the mouth
with it's soft tongue
touching the teeth as if to mock them

That it can taste
but the white mashers just crush
Working to provide the flavor
turning the world to mush

without a hint of aroma
The bad news just rolling off the tongue
Like snowballs accumulating

One side of the table the kids sit in the shadow
complaining about the lack of food
Rest of the house in darkness
Life's desire somewhere near the pit of the stomach

looking back at the inner throat nostalgically
as she falls into the bath

The trumpet

The grand delusion peeling off his eyes
As he walks the men to his side smirk
and his megalomaniac tick thoughts fall
jump and cling to the trouser legs of his security detail

Nostradamus blows his nose
and cleans it on Da Vinci's mantle
The grand delusion still hangs from his face
marring the oval office

Young men, fresh out of ideas

So the old stench of the rule books, well trodden roads and comfort zones
"supposed to" monotony shipping in from "has been" horizons
"What do we dream" I hear them desperately think
and I have the very medicine yet they haven´t learned to drink

And the way benchwarmer´s eyes square them up measuring them at wrong angles
judging lack of diligence and how they´re excessively dangerous

Led by the busy obligatory safety consult pop wise-check
collective opinion reliever
The pressure and weight on their fresh ideas
Not ready to be givers nor receivers

They guess who they are and what it´s all about before curiosity dries
But the answers come with a pile of hand me down lies
NO HELP from the Jung brand 3rd to 4th phase indoctrinated convention praisers
close to their predictable midlife disturbances and well into child raising

No the generation gap is just too far for the limited resources
of those unquestioning pre retirement work horses
So the bridge is never finished and half of the wisdom
falls into the drink, another fail on a real life quiz done

Different plots in the garden

Part of the wheel barrow must be divided
yet still stay whole
No sense in pushing it in two directions
both sides of your head baldness running down the middle

of men like us

Here´s a hotel, here´s a garden
what´s left to contemplate
No sense in getting lost in thought
mad tears your worst enemy

falling from eyes stuck in our concrete heads

We could share the spider
You take four
and I´ll take the other four
we´ll split it somewhere above the abdomen

Fangs and all my friend

Because part of the wheel barrow needs to be shared
and there´s enough room for material dreams
in ticket stamps you may collect before the bucket bounces
But leave enough room for the compost

Because we´ll both be in the ground, life at the bottom is rough
Death is no more than a fancy epitaph

Death's season

He points on toward the men huddled in the shack shadows
He growls like a supple huge predatory cat
The flames from the trash can are down to ankle height
and the wind seems to be enslaved by this intruder

It seems the cheap talk of the wall lovers made them feel safe
safety no truer than a lie each man a baker' s pastry
The fires down to an inch and the snow curls in
like the hair and way of the modest maiden

Yet so does the unfeeling and faces pale and cold look to where the ice falls
Their liquor bottles empty and their arms folded to bargain with the cold
Their heads bobbing up and down and their nervous pacing
emergency room pacing and up to their pale faces they go again

Have we any air left in our lungs
any blood left in our veins
for it points at us accusingly
We the broken, seeking shelter from the rain

Yet it buries itself under the awning among us
and slowly nibbles on us when we are not looking
not feeling and suddenly we are unconscious
it points to us with a pledge we take with dread

Rush on death- behind your eyes

OHHH I hear it howling
and washing down the spine near midnight nye
I know it from the shrill bark in the night mut
OOhh I hear it with the passing car

And in it comes the sword itself
Merciless and swift as clean as acid
it mocks us all and pushes us out of the way
as if we were the same insects we squash by day

The same animals we kill and cast astray
OoOh it never leaves us and keeps a fine eye on us
Each one of us a prize each one of us dies
And it's slow groan covering it's laughter moves through us like thunder

It is the joke that laughed as hard as the concrete a hundred meters down, mortality's swell
and waiting invisible lips and teeth for breakfast, us landing, it chanting like a spell
Waiting for the blood slip, wanting our injury to end us all the same
regular cup of our vitality or whatever remains

Wanting us deeply extinguished
off with disgust, it alive in the rust, it at fest in cancer
this position toward the end, toward too late too mend
old skin old skin, we will never let go and whatever still boiled in our minds
will nail us when it finds us in the afterlife, somehow unjust, somehow unkind

Behind the mirror this hiding phantom, hark
More painful than Hell's anthem
Crush!
It's gone from us and all there is, is only used skin
all there is, is the old carcass, signs of our former selves

Donkeys, we dance around the subject
and pretend we won't be next, no vice to reject
Donkeys, our ambitions don't reach much beyond regression
and invite it in with every habit it convinces us to treasure

OOhh you'll one day know the coldest darkness
exempt of any light, completely swollen and bones bathed in ice
Just a lump once a moving human whose ways and whims would suffice
It doesn't ever bargain and if it did we'd never afford the price

No medicine on moon land boardwalk

Each day comes with a sunrise and an alarm clock
Before you think underwear and socks
and straight off into whatever direction you've created
No eyes for the poor no hands for the falling

Just a moment as you feel the day's friction and want a swig
Just a quick toke oh you long for a drag
And the day has grown empty like a series of them over time
some convenient narcotic no one could call it a crime

Lets pretend in some James Bond way
Heavy hitting negotiator talk on talk on the play
Denying the reality of these half hidden addictions
that pop up anytime the day starts to collect friction

What would you be without a racehorse after the finish line
Down on your high dreams of grandeur you feel it's time
A calming sedative some condemn and others praise
You know the part of yourself that secret little crazy

Grin as the lovely smoky nonsense tickles you into avoidance
Why did you beat down that boy inside yourself as if he was your prudence
Never admitting that some corpse of a spirit still longs to wake
But you'll keep it dead just for god's sake

Facing those things would be as scary as confronting any malicious demon
Suddenly upright in your fancy little trance screaming
Waking from your spinning mind that almost catches a drop of joy from each rotation
But all true happiness has picked up and made for some other port's immigration

Bloodshot eyes, aches and irritations that have been well neglected
Still a straight face when you swear there's not a single regret

How they teach you

They teach us things we never thought we'd have to know
Like how to think fast mostly and sometimes respond slowly
We never see out of everyday the hum, the many gifts they bestow
So precious in nature yet nameless, shapeless, formless.

Sometimes they don't even know they're teaching you
That's when they teach you best
and the many conflicts that seem so useless
actually carry you somewhere you really want to go
but you never knew could use that place to grow

It is said they rub off on you like the hair of a horse
That their personality has a friction on ours and the two course
and the friction awakens or tranquilizes us to many subtle forces
Like how to think fast and respond slowly
and how to take an insult like a compliment without recentment growing
And see this little person and the temper that they're throwing as solo

The finish line

Each edge of that box
assembled to create the shape of death
a human death
a departure from the earth forever

Inside, the lifeless body makes it's argument
in complete silence
convincing us all that the spirit is at peace
That eternal rest has begun

To where he's gone there's no way back
the love of family and friends must pave that road
every round of laughter, every kiss and hug
a paver on his path to glory

His eyes closed tight, mouth pursed
not a hint of life within that skin
Death shaped in that coffin
People spread petals and prayer
and many species of care
But it remains hard to say goodbye

The four candles of his farewell

The four candles
As solemn guardians completely stationary
Tall and attentive at drawing out the darkness
awake and astute to watch all visitors

unflinching and fiel
never flickering
even when the wind attempts to steal
So true and bold

Those four candles where the eyes of god could dwell
monitoring the mourners as they attempted farewells
To the body of a good man who had already folded
The candle flames so symbolic of our own souls

I tell you the wicks didn't shrink short on that cold day
neither did the wax fall precociously as mourners prayed
As if all was balanced and all debts were paid whole
And the last exchanges were loving ones alone

Two palms touch

It's one of those columns grey and pinstriped
Pale and desperate yet exuding a certain grace
with deeper lines than an old man's face

bulging sections to one single umbrella canopy
Glistening and rustling frond leaves jumping, galloping
inviting the tricky breeze up for a cup of tangle

Just a stones throw from a local jungle
and along the frond where parrots dare
Is where the sun puts in most of it's care
Is where two palms touch to make a prayer

Along the lake of a mind

Share a piece of your fond recollections verbally
And when you are done cut your ears off eloquently
The world can only have so many ideas you without the pencil
I wonder if you can invite the world with a voice so ungentle

Spill your memories, the most whimsical and absurd
Give us more and more reason to acquire each word
Devlish exaggeration more than a tall story ought
And I´ll bring friends whose opinions are easily bought

take a secret or a piece of gossip someone hides
fold it into a paper swan that´ll glide
run it along the lake inside loved one´s mind
Then set it on fire so no one else ever finds it

The one spark may fall, just one
like a vulture hurled to the ground by a hawk
Unable to ignite the paper swan
And it may unfold into a blank piece of paper

Peace becomes the victory in that mind

A pool of it

It's the town museum

It's my mansion,

The paintings have been encased in glass and set into the floor

The shallow indoor pool

And the indoor leopard who kills any intruder


The jewels are set into the walls

Reflecting the sunshine outside

There is no place on earth

whose floor tiles smile as much as these do



The pacing leopard my security system

It's no run down town museum

it's my home humid and ferocious

It's a blessing pools of it

Wink and grin(smitten)

I wonder where you are, fair one with brown skin
Somewhere in my life
Playing your role as my wife
Waiting up for me as I do for you

If I make it to Friday we can snuggle
But each day takes a swing
and honestly the only thing
keeping me fighting them is you

Your wink and grin my darling
a few sparks for the gasoline in my gut
So my arms for you are never shut
and that for you I ever stay willing

I wonder where you are
In such an eccentric city as this
during the long days kissless
I wonder fair one with narrow curls

How much do you long for my way
as I stand there looking at you from the doorway
Dim light surrounding me as I choose you for another night
Your neat alluring modesty curves just right

Fair one of brown skin
Oh how often I feel smitten

( For Maira)

Irony on the hook

Out in the sunlight
ready for the excitement
Everyone is leaving
Everyone is running for the exits

When you return, open the curtains
count the days away
simply feel the presence of your loved ones
For the few precious days

You coming back to them
like a fisherman bringing in dinner
Many search for smiles and sunshine
the world over

Pick up a hook, tie it to the line with bait
Until something bites
down there in the darkness
Overdoing things to fill that bag where faith should be

Rock the boat until you become fish food
Irony and agony frequently speak to you
I have become a dock, a pier, a port even
Steady and protective

Lassie survives the apocalipse

The river has almost entirely dried
It is indeed a long ugly wound sun fried
One that spans the length of the land through each town
Like that line of worry off your brow

The rotten clay now exposed
The needy bend and lap water directly from the shallow creek
rags around them to warm them when night is a fridge
The strange dog watches from the ridge

They march on past a thousand abandoned mansions
and try to find an abode less haunted as evening expands
less soup kitchen to the demons and their blood thirsty plights
The chimes of their dinner bells echoing calamity into the night

Scratch a living as the sky is now where morning swims
As the strange dog steadily picks his first victims
Blood to satiate a thirst so deep it brings on repugnant groans
Why, they don't question the fall of one of their own

As the unfortunate person is taken to the ground
devoured by this outlandish strange hound
They just look on as if they won't be the next feast
and the howling demons scream for a piece

Yet the hound won't share the carcass
And taunts the unholy in the darkness
and the demons cry bitterly as the smell of the blood
sends them into contorted fits while the dog smiles blissfully

Modern wicca's market

All the witch doctors are conspiring against me
Their ghost threads and offerings mix into my psyche
No they don't know the weight of the beaten track
and the poor souls who spent their penny
trying to bring me into their lives

The tables full of herbs and roots and spells of attack
Not single a incantation distracts me from the track
And even as I'm checking out of this supermarket world
I deny them the change but never the goodbye
over the counter desperation in her eyes

As if we owe some obedience like a royal garter
But not a piece of anyone can be bartered
This world is not a convenient transaction
You insist your credit buys magical spells quick reactions
There are no formulas you can adhere to free yourself
or at the end of it all renew your health

Have a blasphemy on the house

Out of the forest of hairy plants
shadowy voyage some promises of color
of peace of many exciting feelings
In their skeletons they don't feel the hollowness

For every opiate they consume keeps the emptiness far away
The main addiction is the childish notion that no connection exists
That life is here like a supermarket
Between the products you get your gram of joy

And tell us we who yearn for the unseen are lost
condemn us like you condemn the fanatics and their flags
And like a kid at Christmas your faces lights up
acquiring with empty hearts like machines

hungering for control
hungering for a spark of power
but the system owns you
all that is missing is your bar codes

In your little distant paradise
Where the horrors of the world don't come close
Until the earth shakes you
I pray it doesn't kill you, but I hope it wakes you

Pilgrimage to the sun

The afternoon clinic was temptation
A lost boy walking toward the dusk
walking right in with screaming shoulders
blessed as much as cursed no fussed

The ruby cutting lines of the horizon's clouds
The ushering finger of the god he doesn't know
I see him from the clinic window
making his way like a desperate pilgrim on the road

The doctor says she needs her drill
But all I want to do wish the boy a farewell
Streets dimming down in blues
I'm cured and the doctor is subdued

Boy keeps on trudging near the gutter of the road
that goes directly into the last traces of the sun
neither blessed nor cursed
Just a millennium from greeting unknown god

fascinated by the last rays of that old sun
the one that warmed the clinic through it's huge window
That warmed me, the observer, the spectator
of that helpless soul who makes his way seemingly in vain

The school of light and shadow

No one could turn on the lights
every corner of the school in shadow
Every empty desk a fright
Every darkness getting in through the windows

The blackout brought on a search for light
A search for wisdom
In these empty spaces the only instinct is to fight
and be healed in some sun down clinic

Just to wake
just to wake to the one true love
see through the card tricks of the devil
as he dangles destiny's events like some baby's swinging mobile

Then the very resistance renders a man possessed
The itchy smile he tries to shake off like a pest
just takes his over face
Only by a good wife's faith and grace
can those illusions subside

Playtime´s over for the restless

It flies freely over the city
Nothing has been freer than this entity

Yet nothing more alone
nothing more invisible
No color nor tone
solitary, invincible

Suddenly stuttering and grinding against the wind
as if god had grabbed it´s tail for sinning
Every cloud nearby shook and growled
And the world paused a heavy drowsy pause

Gobble the world up

I'd like to taste the meadow
for what it's worth lick it up with my concrete tongue
A thousand sales men will be buried here
Each grave a neon light
A ray of false hope

I'd like nothing more than to devour the polar ice
With coke, Texaco and a few descent gun companies
We could melt that motherfucker down and flood Holland
Don't you think we want that party first?
Rock and roll and luxury excess

I'd like to breathe my toxic breath all over the city
until sweet cancer reigns in every single lung
The line on the graph says buy
like the smell of a fresh strawberry pie
The line on the graph says sell
The company can go to hell

I wanna see that polar bear drown and eat red meat
until they burn the last tree for pasture
until that last river is a trickle of greasy sludge
So I can bathe in malls and tan in hydroponic centers
convert the oceans salt water to fresh and sell it
overpriced to the dilapidated slum folk

This house in twilight

Go to sleep, comfort be your only goal
This old room no better than a hospital partition
The typical softness and luxuries
far from the confused upside down cities

Wake up it´s Christmas morning
presents and family await
All the sweetness of a great colorful dream
The city itself is a canvas paint your reality

They write about the stars on the walls
The morning has it´s own personality

My pretty post office

You are my post office
You are my clean folded paper envelope
I adore you for being another part of me
A part to be expressed, to be sweat on and bled onto

You are my post office darling
Each bench, box and sticker fresh and charming
each smile, wink and glance calms me

Some comfort and most of my hopes lie in you
Sometimes I feel like there is a thick pane of glass
that stops contact, I may only look through

Always awaiting some unsuspected surprise
Lately you've been a busy little courier
Finding moments to make me curious

Be my post office, my Christmas present
my goal that never seems to get any easier to attain

Permission for happiness at 70 drullwell lane

The house of wonder
Why don't you blessed twins of the world
just come out into the twilight
Like when sunlight hits the murky water
Enthusiasm rocks the spines you twin children

neighbors have arrived
you barely know them
and days and nights are put away like food and drink
on meeting you still won't know what to say or think

Neighbors like you live too close to not chatter
and broken unpainted pickets are just not flattering
The mud and the sludge from the hole in your lawn
A swimming pool for the twins after each summer dawn

This house of wonder
sewn together by half blind stonemasons
and carpenters
Despite the banes and the veins
gladness remained

Now all you need is a sanctioned ticket so request it
from your local feel good official house of happiness
stamped and approved no less
so you can move on with that mess
you call life and shout god bless

To crave thunder

Wooo leave us while the storm blares
put the lid back on
I can see intentions swarming
Skies like today´s faces just summer storms

Well the lonesome road held me
I knew one truth and one power
now I must know a new one
One that drenches the Flint

Flint to ignite dreams
All advice as tasteless as rice
we may as well be robots
following a process until we are spent

colorful blankets no use on warm nights
computer program brains
Chatter and whispers, plain conjecture
The sprouts of inspiration wilt

Summer storms pass
I crave to see the lightening
to hear thunder over so much man made kerfuffle

Who is the wizard?

Wizard what is there under that beard
Wizard you say
Said you look up to someone who doesn´t fear
As if I was some statue

Something grand that you looked up at in admiration
Words that free, words that tend dreams
Forget what you you think you know or have seen
For the wizard is not me

All the favors you think I did
All the support, it is who i am
no tricks under my cloak hid
no wand,sorcery or scam

I admire who you are
every ambition no matter how sour
Another ball of uranium
a few more years of fission

Sounds like a dim rumble

Feel that heavenly beast in you slowly pass away
There´s no more thirst and hunger
The beast slowly runs out of oxygen
And you have become calm
completely neutral

It´s a death if ever there was one
It draws it´s last breaths on the ground
sounds like the rumble of a storm far away
leaving you as this human who must search past the Essentials
completely aimless

You´d be better off wishing for greater things
Better find some new jazz to kick up special  lifetime cheer
Luckier than the poor eastern ones, unluckier than a millionaire
A special new hobby to refresh you as if elixir
Life so full of tricks

heavenly beast dead and gone away
you are a raisin dying to last
out in the sun that hangs over the grindstone
craving a new dynamic to your person
wanting more than the minimum, what could be worse

Just passing murmurs

Once on the street you can get your bearing
Staring all the way down into the wide avenue sneering
sun hitting your eyes, do you delight?
lifting the helmet off your head like after some fight

Walking beside the shops, strolling as if nothing to prove
each person heading in the opposite direction facing you
Some keep a smirk and others an expressionless bracing
Most want nothing from you but space to keep pacing

face to face with the street no comments out of your mouth
well no real one person to comment to your health
about 100 passing murmurs though
if you like those

Shadows of wall street

Out of the shadows
These ceilingless buildings house monks of finance
Everyone in this world is to be replaced
Out of the shadows

They sit calculate and pray
each level in the building a world
Hovering and moving around the floors
selling your soul was never so competitive

They can offer you a proxy
and many more gorgeous illusions
They'll come at the same price
Their cloaks are current currencies

Out of the shadows
Money generates from small margins getting fatter
Assets bought and sold it's a suave game
Shaped by dim perception by the moral façade

We can replace you with something a little better
society cries out for easy answers
cloaked wraiths come to their rescue
perfection for one life time is defective for eternity

Maidens for the fest

They are supernatural
and they turn the gas on before each special occasion

The maidens who had died a Thousand years ago
tended the flame as if polishing jewelry
they were real ghosts and admitted to me
halfway into the mock ceremony

Lighting up the hallways and bathrooms
The visitors frowns were also illuminated
and their lost luggage did the ghosts do that too?
All the flowers and colorful clothes

Were they trying to reproduce the gates of heaven
Supernatural and troublesome
sabotaging the party

They kept turning the gas on even after all doors were locked
kept howling up the locked corridor idle and nasty

Shape yourself

Heaviness subsides
movement has it´s power back
Truth to self abides
reducing the anger and fat

Wake up to this day
no matter how grey
No matter how down
or how hard it is to rid your face of an early week frown

Lethargy gives way
To a keeness to live life
no matter the day
remember all there is to strive for

The weight on your head
Is about to be gone
enthusiasm fed
become one

Rockhorse valley of the Dwarf

Down into the dark depths of Rockhorse valley
Where a dogged few determined dwarves try to scratch a living
While fighting off the outside powers that now rallied
Each conflict is a fresh basket of rotten misgivings

The dwarves and their awkward lives and ways
Suddenly under threat by a new people ambitious and grey
Rockhorse valley was to for the dwarves a place of learning
Sweet darkness that comforted a slower yet meaningful yearning

Came the grey ones full of fire and haste
To slaughter the dwarves and to their land lay waste
So the dwarves picked up their axes, their cunning and ruthlessness
Dooping the greys time again until their cause symbolized uselessness

Finally as exhaustion shook hands with the greys high ambitions
The dwarves and begun to assimilate mirroring the greys evil volition
And the greys had to gracefully step down from their high horses
and see the species of brutality their presence had brought

The tragic juvenile

Young man just a little lost as he leaves adolescence
Maturity seems to be difficult to encourage from the inside out
Struggling to be somebody, to turn into something
Somewhere in the ball park of his parents mislead expectations

The many mysteries of life eluding him
and those around him that know those mysteries as complex facts say nothing
Thinking in some way he´ll be interrupted by them
Rendered confused and useless

Alas it´s that short time before midlife
that the mind must take in everything
like a cyclone across every continent of the world
There he sits, football his only knowledge

His parents will get a friend of a friend
to get him a job as an engineer
In a decade replaced by a robot
who had more interest in the world than he did

When the warden comes

When the warden comes
Short legs on him waddling toward your cell
Torch and nightstick braced in hands
To touch the bars as if the gates to hell

The corridor echoes and a dozen damned men sigh
For the rest of their foreseeable lives
Hope a torn doll
hands braced on bars that once wielded knives

The grin starts growing as short legs makes his rounds
The taunt, the voice that doesn't surpass a burp
 His nightstick clicks on bars as he ascends the hall
as he would a suburb in hell

The grin appears front of the cell
and everything is locked

Tom cruise is a little better than you

Tom cruise is a professional dancer
You'll go up to his mansion and test your skill
Piano getting bent out of shape
House keepers trying to escape
You half way out of your knickers kicking it still

Tom cruise is the ultra entrepreneur
Where he sees talent he promotes it with goodwill
You're not the apple of his eye you are the split grape
How far that falls short behind tightly drawn drapes
You'd give the world to impress and get that five figure bill

Tom Cruise is hiring and goofs around the beach, city is bursting
It's perhaps a paid one off in Hollywood hills
That will leave you reminiscing at your window sill
Still paying the rent albeit scraping it together late
A sardine can dwelling, c.v giving, H.R fall bait
Swallow the pill, write the will, each hour obliged to be filled

Tom cruise doesn't care he is at the top of his game
Scientology his fingers in those magical coffers and tills
And there are a million admirers paying their rates
falling for their 25 cent newspaper article hate
Manipulated in cold to feel heat and in heat to feel the chill

Olivia six years old

Six years old
another six paces down the path
toward the world
Through handwriting reading and math

See the best in each day
and each day will deliver
Have a happy birthday
but have happiness every day Olivia

Look after your sister
even when she annoys you
give your best tips to her
Extra years are extra clues

Good luck and god bless you
in everything you do

The dearest armor

Often she heals me
when the world seems to have it's guns out
And when the days are not generous
And the city itself is a wild animal

I reach for her
As those who surround pull triggers
The day a thief of cheer at times
She is there to appease it's crimes

She mends my bullet proof vest
pulls out the shrapnel and sends me back out there
with a grin as vicious as a shotgun
When she smiles at me I'm reloaded

Tootles´ bitter limbo

Tootles
down the road with the legs that beg to walk all over tomorrow
The sprinkle of ambition that make the awkward swing along the way
Hands embrace your life, the one you try to create and fly with
Tootles, but why do you put your hate out to dry

Why don´t you find it in your heart instead
heaven forbid you´d ever lift the lid on your feelings
heaven a far cry as you label it a myth
A painting on the church ceiling

tootles where´s the fantastic bazooka of all your rage
Let it out of it´s cage and rhetoric saliva across the table
hate in rage ablaze with the lost boy outside the hospital
Alone and frightened, death not a very good uncle

Tootles how hard is that denial you whip yourself silly with
What part of you still insists you are worthless
Sons of confusion, sun light the middle way
What´s in the middle of you? where is your humility?

Tootles hard done by winter a strange revenge
Your enemy faceless, camped up in your heart
As you scream out at the world with half your breath
and deny the suffering sending your painful rhetoric with the other half

Tootles the two dead ducks knew no better
neither did we, up our eyes go
Just lost souls shaking at the storm this Earth ever is
Shaking at your judgements tootles but you didn´t get it either
Hell´s on Earth you claim hiding that fever

Your dogma is dog eat dog but your bites are well infected as if fresh
Those injuries are as old as your facial flesh
There´s a good few holes in your arguement
insist on those lies that are so soundbite
until your eyes no longer hold the light

The last live show

Platform surrounded by colorful survivors
Stage performers just the menagerie remaining
To warm the concrete
to inspire a hope and cause forgetfulness
Of the stain defeat

Empty cafetarias, long benches and tables
Where hundreds would share their faith in fables
Tattered books faded ink
They invested everything in their sacred fairytales
Instead of think

And after the drones turned
Hot, restless and hostile
Each home reduced to a smouldering hole
A rotting patch within a landscape a dead dalmation
Cities on fire accelerating death tolls

And now this, a commemoration in clown suits
for the two dozen survivors
I get in a van and drive to the nearest hotel still intact
To rest my weary head
And invent a fairytale to conceal these ugly facts

Get the chip in you

One day you'll be replaced by a machine
evolution is eating it's tail
One day we'll be devoid of purpose
and an outside force will force us

Twice as conventional
no opinion, initiative or personal thoughts
You just cheer, cheer and wave a flag
you'll be replaced by a robot one day

because you have nothing to say
nowhere to go
No special idea
just the obligation to exist

You, you lovely lab rat
you passive soccer fan
We could put wires into you
buttons on your chest

But what's the point?
You are predictable and lazy
malleable and easy to manipulate
I want 200 million of you

Buy when I say buy
sell when I say sell
don't state the obvious
not even the subtle

Clones and androids may disobey
but you lovely trend sheepers keep trotting
eyes on the tail in front of you
You repeat popular idioms and cusswords

A cardboard box of bad habits
Go along with whatever's kicking
freethinkers make you sick
Wave your flag and bleat your banter

believe in the holy ghost, voodoo and santa
That somehow the developed world deserves it more than you
Spend your time on your knees in pews
In disorderly and impossible office queues

Your thoughts and habits long play discs
round and round you go
Buy the new cellphone
Brand dependent

Sell your right to think for a loss
Buy the powder and brainwash yourself at home
And act without questioning
You the elegant drones

Human mess

Flow with the moment they say
People love the selfishness the lick of the dog
The get satisfied and go off about your business
croak of the toad

The ego load and the invisible untold
They are talking at you at you at you
You just need to mold into that moment
Accept that those thoughts and feelings
are not food for the table

Be that bendable and dependable
dream of a human being

Lofty ideals for such a selfish mess
selfish human mess the invisible untold
Pull the cord and hear the dolly speak
Rent a dog to spend your affection on

Be that dream albeit you´ve increased that ego load
You turn into one of those "at you" people
Unable to mold into those spikey moments
You are not food for the table
You are the burnt meal
The selfish human mess

Noxious weeds

Our customs have become the premise for grand celebration
The land is providing for the economy and new generations
Through every excavation
every working man's hand in this
god-fearing nation

Yet somewhere out there tucked between suburban trees
Is a voracious and audacious creeping disease
It's not the need for attractions abroad or love of foreign things
Or the way the new generation of pop sensations sing

It's not transformations of land or our contributions to climatic doom
Or the fact we've relaxed and inhaled decades of industrial fumes
Because for quite some time our breed has slowly become immune
It's the new poster boy who wants to rip a hole in the world
And turn citizen on citizen until chaos unfurls

Who wants to start wars and prolong them a child at play
He reaches for your prejudice with each rhetoric he sprays
He pulls your heart and rubs it with anger and outrage to marinate it
Then he throws it on the barbecue until your compassion is exterminated
He'll devour your heart to fill his void as you perfect your extreme hate

If your vote goes to the reckless bigot with a mind for war
A new brand of clumsy fascism will infect the country starting with the poor
If you vote for this hate monger in a wig there'll be no way to ignore
The sound of batons, shields and jack boots up your streets and outside your door

The holy golden chain

A necklace of the christ hung on the shiny green bill
The long shiny green bill kicking up from the watery floor
to wandering humans trying to reach it at a crawl
Giant leaves that would please the market

Golden chain just dangling there not sinking in the clear water
someone's pray ground shrine all blessed by the evangelist thought
Just hanging off giant leaves each leaf a thousand dollars
Attached to the end of it like a golden collar

Swaying with the flow of the water and shining a sweet cutting light
One that passerby's wouldn't pass up but their hands are tied
for religious conotation has them chained to the poverty generation brain
They'd break down a money vault door and sell themselves as whores
But die and curse the rain before they touch that saintly holy golden chain

Dusk gone, night crumbles

You swapped your friends for some street dog woe woe
Dusk is your party but pretty soon it´s over city light stepping into you
You swapped your residence for an avenue
Life goal find a soft place to rest your aching head

Lost in the dark blue dusk as day fades so does your sense of direction
The heavily packed neighbourhoods yield no answers
You can´t get your bearings by walking any faster
Look inward and the deep blue sky reflects off your heart

simple mirror of delicious sensual cloudless pre-dark
Is there enough room in there for two, fantasies echo from the brain
The veiny frown looks up from under the ribcage "Is there enough room for you?"
The night steals the rest of that conversation, the devlish internal dialogue

Completely lost and still moving through the city
Street light guiding you in most places street dog long gone
Dusk was your party but now it´s over city light is stepping into you
It´s all woe is me and some fancy modern emotional disease

Could you hold yourself together on these dangerous dark night city streets?
As good as a tumbleweed in a network of breezy cut throat alleys
An open deposit Yard welcomes you, it´s beer drinking nobodies
bragging at the top of their lungs, that´s your informal welcome

jacket open
skin open
Ribcage open
Heart banging like a stereo

Now you got these guys dancing on top of the trailer
to the rhythm of your heart like drunken sailors
to the anguish of the night
to the pauses that kill both life purpose and plight

The oily Stony dirt in the deposit rearing up an earthy purple
You say good bye to momentary sympathizers momentarily cheerful
Close the gates on clumsy smallfry servitude in a tumble
And take the night, stuff it your clanging heart until that motherfucker crumbles

Chump screen stitch!

The in the know group of main street men
who walk down the avenue with shaven grins
Whose pace and step is a reflection of success
The few who keep up are just the beggers in a mess

They descend to the subway fast
 their thousand dollar coats moving to the draught
It looks like they´re almost going to laugh
Sporting keen shaven grins as they pass

The street hussler stands up straight almost in protest, just cheap quips
Female train attendants with their empty cups pretend to sip
Shoe shine boys gathering courage to ask their lost tip
These men are no change and brisk
 secrets well hidden in the heads behind their lips
Breaking eyecontact the only move that fits

The hussler, the true loser tries to move a ruse to make himself rich
You can´t have their respect or attempt your lippy pitch
They know your device and in your plight sew a stitch
They´ve made this city their armoured trucking bitch
Quote unfairness with a mouth of the envious itch
They haul bullion while you sit infront of chump screens and twitch

Worship inspiration

I was wondering where the uninspired go to find their passion again
I often asked myself have I ever been one of them?
And in brief minutes recollect the fact that each word
is a drop of my enthusiasm

A drop of my eternal sweet immortality
Sugar cane epochs growing on and only dying back to the rhizome
Then bursting up again come the wet season
Tropical necessity

I was wondering what grey empty snowed in writers dare
when their creative repertoire is impaired
Autumn stole the leaves and winter the rest of the landscape
Speaking from my third eye from an abundant third world

How many who write their way into the world
Did so, to even the score of a game they don´t understand?
How many well meaning adolescentes fall from cliffs of idealism
to be swept into the polar tides below ice numbing the thought patterns into apathy

What will you rhyme of then pretty wordsmith?
Any pattern you let own your style will be tainted
By a lack of knowledge and awareness you had relented
under the voracious notions of good and evil that man invented

Where is your spontaneity when it is controled by overstimulated moral outrage
It grabs your pen and tapping fingers and locks you in the perfect world cage
that you your self made
and even when winter fades
Spring won´t make you a hippy
Poetry is more than a similie

Inspiration is my god and vice versa
Follow each word of mine heavier than an egyptian curse if you plagiarize
I demand to see free will inside a modern stanza thats what I idealize
Arguements of a perfect ethical world come closer to real lies
Blessings and abundance, malnutrition and disease
Some of them plague us while others please
Blame or praise god for one, I for neither

Icebergs and otters

Icebergs came into the bay like cool blue frigates
The plush green subtropical coast palm trees looking on
calling out to the icebergs calling them into land
A beautiful compact mansion tucked into the hill also looking out

A stout brown brick two towered beast of a building
Half concealed by the tall beachside evergreens
was poking out to see icebergs in the warm bay
Something stirred within it's breaches

A dolphin on the stairwell
hunting jellyfish in the waterhole
Shamefully caught in the act
The sea mammal flapped and flipped back down stairs

Upstairs another water hole where a giant sea slug was emerging
It's face as proud as father's at the birth of his first son
They would all have to make do in the waterholes though
As a thousand anxious nuns led by a bishop stormed the building

Desperate men were trying to escape from the mansion
They planted c4 explosives and used terribly destructive weapons
The pursuers and the mansion unharmed and undamaged
And the icebergs hadn't melted not a drop

What becomes of the eternal bully

They worked at the same shop
On the other side of the street from the construction deposit
They worked for years there
friendship grew as the shelves emptied

Then they both arrived on the crowded bus
bullies skulked in the backseats
Then made their way hunting out a victim
Friendship couldn't save them from the seven minute trip

They presented flutes and played malevolence
They set traps and to their delight caught the unfortunate
Their laughter like crazed and rabid hyenas
shrill and as horrid as the kid's bruised leg

The bullies found themselves off the bus
In a field surrounded by shrouded figures
The bullies couldn't move and couldn't speak
their tongues trapped they were terrified

The cloaks of the judges hardly wavered in the breeze
The bullies didn't want to look at them but their eyes were glued
Everything was out in the open like salt on uncovered wounds

Then the two friends arrived to forgive the bullies
for they had been invited to hill love kingdom
They forgave the bullies and pleaded for the cloaked figures to do the same
But the cloaked figures were not men like me or you

When it comes to what you say

When it speaks to your heart its time to go in that direction
When the length of time you´d have to wait was determined
And all your doubts and fears begging to be confirmed
At the end of the day work stops and light dims

When it comes to convincing others
you´ve got your own mouth to repeat
When it speaks to your vulnerability it´s time to stop the car
all your doubts and fears staining the welcome mat

When it comes to speaking your mind
you´ll have a real deep reason for it
When it speaks to your freedom of speech
you´ll quite often step on people´s feelings

When it comes to owning up to your mistakes
well we couldn´t find a mountain high enough to push you up

When I fall

The world changed
each one went to their own house
as night fell for a decade
My own path was wrought with shadows

trillions of them
The boat lifted and fell
above an ocean of shadows
I rose and stood at the edge

Then i dove head first
The shadows scattered and there was nothing to break my fall
vertigo circled me like a snake
I was not falling but rising

Higher than midday summer suns
Rising high on waves of light
Letting destiny praise me
dark water of shadows evapourated

This ball

This mushroom
This cushion
This pillow
holding my head softly

This hive
This brick wall
This enclosure
Holding us in from the storms

This ball
This skull
This bone box of thoughts
Holding an imagination so out of control

This blue grey sky
This whole day
This space in time
Holding us for as long as it lasts

How we fall into ourselves crazy spores
how we hunger to work and belong
How we merge and seperate inside our heads
Each moment excessively unwanted or absolutely needed

Softly under the control of storm threats
Broken mirrors blunt curly edges
each minute on earth
In your skull
for all it´s worth

Before Hiroshima was bombed

We sat in the circle and prayed
just ten minutes before the raid
The general checking on us like we were eggs
just waiting to hatch

Each group of us struggling to find our calm
When the instinctual emotion was anxiety
some of us began to chant, others to nod
to bless loved ones and make peace with god

The exploding bombs started ripping up from the south
Our unit ran to the big anti aircraft guns and opened fire
everything shook as the planes came in fast
so many planes, would our ammunition last?

The noise the smoke the overwhelming excitement
Such a foreign contrast to our tranquil prayer
shrapnel made it through walls and doors
and a few friends whose fortune was poor

The gun I controlled blazed and blazed until I was exhausted
They pulled me out and put the next man in as if I was the magazine
or just a simple bullet created for one mundane purpose
Whose gun are you ammunition for?

Antioch burns

The had been quite devout
but heathen was a word thrown about
So the popular symbols and dogma drew swords
society is a foot soldier a mere beast of the herd

Southern Greece´s soils still yielded olives
for the blood spilt there and ancient knowledge
When the Druzes voices could still be heard
Before extremists infected antioch and the heinous occured

Their own dedication to truth was uprooted and attacked
By restless souls who deny creation joining rivers of fanatics
convinced fast and righteous answers will heal the sick
And from peace and love they did neither pick

But from wielding sword and axe on dogma parades
they slaughtered truth seeking druzes from all life´s ways
back to Palestine as antioch burns
Preaching the truth so that the soul may learn

A brick intact in the valley of the gullible

The value of a brick intact
 and the cold august sun that shone exact
from a high fall
Like approval or condemnation of a royal
That brick fell but didn´t break, the sign they were looking for

it twisted in mid air
As the preacher spoke and stared
his words going out to a sunshine crowd
Who had the hobby of caring

That brick dove like a gull into the boil
like a thrush toward the soil
but hit the ground intact
and hushed the crowd with it´s "smack"

The value of that compacted clay
Which would together despite impact stay
made each word the sunshine preacher says
as compelling as each of the falling sun´s warm rays

Mispending the currency of youth

Take the drugs off the top shelf
What a variety?
What colors and flavors
You are somebody

What a mixture to take across town
Getting confused on purpose
what have you to lose
It´s worth it

Pepper and salt
and spices
just enough to get lost young people excited
hand reaching around the top shelf for the forbidden

in those bags are the strangest gimics
The ones you think will make you individual
you are somebody stoned
You are nothing but stimulated hormones

In the bag of narcotics
where addictions and peril lurk
Uncertainty calling you
friends urge you to open the colorful little packets

Across town you get lost chasing friends
lose yourself in the shop corners
some intoxicating game of pretend
Doing this doesn´t make you somebody

Fast food therapy

The french food extraordinair
Stood in his subway side Mcdonalds booth
showing everyone his cheeseburger creation
One he'd made that was not on the list
one that would surely taste exactly the same
as any other burger from giant M's fame

But no he insisted and bragged that it was of his own
A special treat that we were being offered alone
I don't know if it was his narrow moustache
Or the way he gleamed at our disbelief and belly laughed

Was this frenchman trying to sell me a culinary delight
from behind the red and yellow counter?
The unquestioning queue didn't seem to mind
and the burger did have the exquisite aroma of sanity pouring off it

The begger with no gender

It was somewhere between a man or a woman
despaired and shaken trying to utter her words to beg
Trying to get by there on the pavement
face full of make up and sad voice coming out to beg

Her face looked like it had recieved the grimey street tiles as a pillow
And her words creaked out with sprinkles of panic
There´d be no comfort this day for this helpless soul appealing to crowds
Although she moved slowly her body was frantic

She pleaded with the sane and ran ducked and took cover from the rain
Each coin made it into her hand from grams of sadness in her heart
That she´d never be believed her scars and struggle didn´t have a meaning
Passerby´s avoided eye contact during her lunch cry time

She was a transexual begger lost in the frowny rush of the mainstreets hurry mob
pushed along by their directions
gasping just to touch one of them, but essentially lost
obedient to a pimpy fate

The tangle of love

I´ve mentioned my ways
and how through them I love you
I´m just getting yours today
for the first two years I was afraid

Soft love through time distills the subtle criminal in me
Frighteningly there´s something left to see
something for me to give you when I thought I had run out
A reason to work on this soft love with less doubt

Glance at me when we are already home
as if each second was a millenium
joyful at grasping the kind of tangle we made love
moments we´ll spend together will be enough

We´ll Learn to savor the peace between the misunderstandings
any of these hours of trouble won´t force a crash landing
Strength as both lips softly brush your forehead and hair line
certain our problems are solved before bed time

I´ve mentioned some of the ways I´ve tangled this precious love
that´s ours
It tangles sometimes but week after week like our pink window hibiscus
it flowers
Soul quenching nights and days to face a world so rough
that´s power

(Maira)

By the tenth

The hard hat hugs his hairy ears
His moist beady eyes are exposing nine o clock fears
10 stories up and he´s still telling me the second
About biding my time before I force a reckon

By the third story there were humble explanations
About the changing world and it´s lords anticipations
By the fourth he mentioned the chance of desperation
That a piece of the pie may be gained free of expectations

By the fifth his moist beady eyes blinked and bulged
and his discourse onto personal ambition rolled
Each man has his plan and his ultimate dream
he a modest constructor man or so it simply seemed

By the sixth there was a mix of glances
words about the value men place on their chances
And revolving floors where the nimble dare to dance
By the seventh we decided where amenities should enhance

By the eighth there was an attempted check mate in behaviour
Not a blink as good natured moist eyes reversed his bishop to save it
The ninth was a satified grin that seemed to dim the grimness of a tuesday
making the morning a few shades lighter from it´s imposing all encompassing grey

The tenth was a discussion about the future and definite wealth
Words that inspired the feeling of making money and health
By the tenth I can say I was quite convinced
That the deal was sound, I´ve gained ever since

They won´t tend your garden

We cannot grow your garden for you the way you want
And it is too much to ask for us to dig as you flaunt
None of these plants that you´ve chosen will survive in the shade
You want a life of flowers on a southern hill of rock and clay

We can´t be the tending to your greenery like christmas elves
Seeds change each year to keep viable options on the shelf
The rake and spade and hours of toil are only worth sacrifice
If you can use them to get the bloom or harvest by your own wise

So in the calmer stretches of the river the man studied himself
Not the way a daffodil but to realize it was he or noone
He filled his arms with sharpened tools
and went to the soil to make new rules

Amschel´s forest

The seed sprouted
something viable peaked out of the half frozen soil

The seedling strengthened
and leaves eased out onto a Strong stem now

Abundant buds popped up in spring
Frosts and droughts didn´t weaken it as it bloomed from the forest floor

Even through the dense shade of prejudice
coming down from the old and well thatched canopy

The seedling become a firm tree
somewhere between a rhodadendron and an oak
Poking up through the royal canopy

The center of the forest hadn´t noticed the firm tree had dropped it´s seeds
and it´s seeds were carried by water and Wind to each corner

Their roots formed runners and rhizomes that matted under the tall chaos
Their bark hard and reddish, their trunks thick and firm rose
holding the weight of heavy branches under winter snows

Every vigourous seed of the robust trees waiting to germinate and pay homage
the very division of sunlight determined by their foliage

Outgrowing the spruces and the sycamores
seeds he´d sown in soil so sure
Amschel and the oaths he swore

Ever in the first

She was and ever is my graceful lady
the sound of her laughter softly sways me
she smiles and nods spontaneously
Busy girl spends her week in the hurry

She blows kisses between schools
and I sometimes wait cheek by the window fool
I arrive tired and thrown by the night
food and comfort not far from sight

I wrap my arms and hands
around her like clouds over highlands
I search for a moment of love in her lips and cheeks
A moment of feeling with no demand to speak

I go from her the world taxes my certainty
I return to her she permits me every confidence
Life can be such a lonely thing without that person
I put my graceful Maira ever in the first

Tig

A dying friend
can´t get him to care quite in time
my supporter when the rest of the world was against
my teenage friend is about to die

His voice is not the same
it´s more like a croak
The ants and bugs want the corpse
It´s a beautiful creature why must he die?

the comfort of my youth
grief won´t leave me in this moment of recollection
Sitting by the water side pondering your short nine lives
Chasing birds like you had your own car

Part of my little world
the one noone else could see
The only living thing
that never seemed to judge me

Eyes but not ears

Augenblick

A shot of the eyes across the Earth
the rounded dice
A glance in the industrial
A pair of eyes that watch examples
but cannot hear advice

I have missed all the metal
The pretty concrete
All a house to move the numbers
All a theater for fore and post thought
new blood slouches besides the featureless faces
of half a dozen old timers

I have missed the tacky trick
To make us think the city was built on
communist bricks
When the truth is it was aimless questionless day labourers
who would accept a buck to fall into any category

The preachy looting well educated youth
are not as educated as when there's a necessity for proof
Their peer organizations have already drowned in theoretical thought tanks
You just see the smiling welcoming sandal wearing zombie's
who claim to have socialist hearts

They are so local and bias, their eyes cannot hear the advice
and every published piece of international News
seems to get unnecessarily translated askew
No name politicians slowly put each of you in the file
for safe conformists who don't protest ideals but irrelevant political style

The insect that man is

With the height of hallowed autumn
The growing nakedness of trees
the sudden chill in the acres with a descending north breeze
Every insect from trunk grubs to the ones the size of fleas

Pale sky dims against the bark
of haunting tall poplars and squeezed between prickly evergreens
The shady yard and cabin within the treelines, windows humid longing for people
All of the residents were out with last days of sun, hunting insects on the run

Paths that seemed so random though followed each beetle exactly
Shiny wings and sudden scuttering their eyes were aglow with love
What brought them to love lively small creatures and so compelled?
It was their farewell to light and warmth as a nearing winter swelled

It was not the bug itself that drew sway
Nor for food or medicine did they become things of play
They were just small tokens of hope before frosts and blizzards grey
Before men wore their warm bungalows everyday
 that they'd soon thatch in such caprichous methodical ways

Collecting firewood not a twig left on the forest floor
For soon snow will have the land around the rich and all over the poor
The cold mouth of winter pulling legs off mammals in the freeze
Pushing the predictable human into his ground nest for relief

Each footstep made into late october would be the scrunch cackle
of an early hungry winter
One that demands more months, shamelessly harrasing the seasons
 one that boldly signed death warrants with the arctic mighty
One that would test the gums of the boreal forest, a hungry winter quite

So yes knowing this in their bones
the humble humans picked at insects
Before the little creatures went into their subterranean chrysalises
The predictable rituals that men so pride themselves on most
Obeying daylight like slaves yet finding the negligence to boast

The humble anthophila

I picked out some new flowers to avoid encouraging the bleakness
Ones that have their bloom on and might survive the week
As the older ones wilted and the household fell cold
I'll tell you these new ones are welcome by the green thumbs that sold them

I picked out the flowers as if I gave permission for joy to show itself
To color the dining table and be the colorful sprawl on any unwanted dim
I was that optimistic monday as if my emotions belonged to it exactly
But it's all a flimsy illusion each day you wake and you tunnel through

You perfume yourself and hold yourself together
You flourish as the hours click into days
And such a short time is a lifetime that I call it survival
day work taps me on the back harder than celebration

Millions lost in sedentary habits and medication
There lot so far from my comprehension
Society masters comparison
Yet lacks an accountable narrator

So I place flowers to remind me of transforming
beyond the bomb blast mess and bloated decayed buds of society
For the answer is peaceful and keen to meet us
And how very gunpowder anxious we are to hide from it

As petals fall and aphids drool on the castles of caterpillars
I find an inkling of peace in observing the feast dish of the anthophila
Partly their conquest as they gather pollen in their productivity
Maybe we'd know harmony if we were more like the bee

learning to love

learning to love
is taking off the armour
the armour that weighs us down gradually
that fills with pests and diseases

Learning to love
is taking off the helmet
The one that stops out rational mind
and keeps the violence going

It's no walk in the park
It's a war that never seems to end
That scars us and makes us casualties
For to love is to stride into enemies without protection

Addiction the playful boomerang

There are alot of wobbly addictions
Ones that will turn you blue and clumsy
That will swell your gob and numb you
Funny the addictions you pretend not to have

The bag of feelings you've packed away for the long term
That keep falling out of the cupboard each time you slip up
There are alot of sobby fictions that come out of a few sad facts
Not glancing at the bounty but analysing the lack

There's a family of drugs many pop smoke and inject
Then to rationalize we deny, regress, refuse then project
Until you are blue and clumsy in the mouth
Others remain unconvinced in accomodating your vices

There are a few addictions some of them with sharp edges and rusty buckets
To drain your patience and your compassion
While you stare into it's illusions satisfied by it's short abrasive effect
A thousand such vices wait to shorten your time on earth

Don't claim there was never any warning
You programed yourself to ignore it
procuring scapegoats and other drugs
like a gambler and his bad luck

David spoke silently

David's here for such a short visit
He looks across the table pefect grin
desert tan and clean advice
Nor do I dare say easier said than done

A thing that doesn't know doubt
and we question did it ever
like a hand on our shoulders and whisper in the ear
you are on your way

And perfection is not found in humans of this age I raise
And with his face, less words he implies a loud okay
Where in the desert did he learn such optimism
We sat over the table to talk not a word transpired

Almost laughing he said okay, without a sound
and how he comforted me I don't know
heavy heart and over reactive mind
Difficult to grow

My excuses made cracks in the brilliant table
The one that was made for elbows, bread and wine
David came to hint he'd help for a day
but then it was on me to march forward

For all limits

When I hear your voice in my head
I know there´s a way to separate
Way to know it´s all the conditioned fabric
The net the mind is ever caught in

Nose to smell the edge of the cliff
the assailants dagger
The smoke of the blaze
that encroaches on my place

The voice reminds me
These fires and blazes are supposed to heal me
Every thousand thought without logic
reality far from you and me
count your invisible blessings

For all limits would tip you
Like a holocaust corpse
onto the slide down to the trench pile
of the next generation´s compost

But I hear you from round here
Not too fond of my doubts
which like candles flicker
conspiring to make me sicker

Then you set me straight that all of these ill things
Are hidden erroneous beliefs that in strife´s symphony sing

Back into the image

The road and the river became one
Of all confusion your way is the biggest
The strangest and most fickle
And here you are colleagues and friends fill the room

You run out to see your wagon
It´s not the one you own
wonder where you lost that piece
That thing you could call yours

It´s gone it´s being chased
That thing you want the most
In life´s rash pulsing race
Where each event could crush
each stroke of the brush

Master piece of life
It´s been chased
like the rest of the treasure
Like the lust you have to be near her

There she runs in the sunshine behind a moving vehicle
Like a huntress, a heroine that stunned us all
her eternal motion
Kissed me well wished me
life right up in my face

The mago of both sides

He was up above them all
On the strangest farm
you could hear his joy filled call
echoing through the calm

He was about 2 kilometers above us all
His mouth was a millimeter from forming a smile
It wasn´t for the fact he was tall
His face was almost that of a stormy child

Up where the waterfalls and strange forests overhung
That is where he conducts his business
The clean air blesses his shiny lungs
His lips are always formed into a kiss

He is a Mago of kinds
A bringer of happiness and cheer
Every spell cast from his mind
With a hint of consideration and a curious glare

Last falsity

Show no feeling, lest they judge you
social statue carved out of whims of a few mouths
Be as good they form you
Truth is so valuable the old say in such a day and age

not a sip of sincerity from their anecdotes that replay
When that certain subject is touched
Realness is too much to risk
stubbornness or courage one folds into the other

Show no feeling though
stale interaction springs
suppression of real sentiment
what illness do you accumulate

Truth is bartered but can give no reprieve
contrarily as it is but a thief of certainty
No mercy when your heart is half eaten by grievous pretense
No quarter when the lie of etiquette has been played till it's last falsity

Somewhere useful

Generations swell
the right vibrations quickened
Shadows subsided
And glory reigned

Reigned like a light you've never known
one that could never be measured
But eventually each epoch fails
and pales toward a contra tide

One that sweeps away the progress for a time
that leads mild hearts and minds astray
one that dampens the flame and lowers the light
The wayward wanderers couldn't unite single file toward it

And the turnover provides a better sculpted replica of the last
until death robs the scene from our eyes
Is it the pining that swells as each new generation does
to give us the shape and the color of a soul

Pining to see over the horizon where a new generation brews
One with words more fermented and fragrant than my own
And with no less honesty
A tiny step toward the some place useful in the cosmos

The soul's one

Where the grass grows longer
That is where it waits, low to the ground
Nose to the wind eyes over the furry tops
Back leg' s feet replace the front leg's foot falls
As it gets closer and closer to the preys rustling and calls
Aroma and noise enticing it's senses

Sweeping the stems
the wind collaborates as if by will
Almost intoxicated by the certainty of the kill
stalking is the only act it's soul reveres
And landing on that prey claws beared

Swirling chaos and springing panic and fear
blunt concussion sharp deep contusions into organs and lungs
The sweet taste of blood dancing on each tastebud of the the tongue
the claws and teeth burst into a mad frenzy

The carcass still and empty like an overturned pew
a weak testament to the animal it once belonged to
The grass a crimson mess, all through
A satisfied grin, the soul's one true

His ambitions

On the empty salt lake eyes ready for tears to cry
Bellion stood contemplating the foundation of an empire
His ear caught the sinister screech of a distant Strak
In his heart there was fullness even in the empty lake of lack
The eastern expanses desolation consoled him

In the circle of blueness surrounded by cloud
He saw destiny and yonder greatness strong and round
His men's chins did lift and observe just so
And their spirit's were high despite the land so low

Bellion proclaimed himself over the southern abundance
Hungry for every battle ahead, each reptillian fiend, every chance
And his men did heed the necessity for a leader as this
That foes would be felled by blade and fist
And allies embraced in arms and kisses

He dreamed the great dream which was Tukron
Comprehending the thousands of years that his name would ring out
in the ears of his future descendants, to their hearts over their land
That Wagron's beginning would be moulded by his hand

Bellion looked further east The southern Strak somewhere lurking
The blade raised glinting in the sun, suddenly alive to have left the scabbard
Fear slowly left tiptoeing away from the Wagrons who had tamed a land
More terrifying than earth but a thousand times more blessed
Their laughing rose and possesed the sand as it flew with the wind through the emptiness

Bellion looked back west tying his shield to his horse and mounting
Trots turned to gallops and gallops to thunder and lightening
One thousand desires and dreams to achieve
From his ambitions there was no relief

No referees

Said he´d need someone to lean on after all this was over
that he´d rather the visit than be someone´s chaffeur
You can´t win them all but don´t stop playing says he
And if pride gets into people just let it be

Said he´d need a little time to be real after dealing with the pretend
Life´s a game, each passive person, is seen as a dead piece to be shaped and bent
Don´t twitch and hesitate for those with greater ambitions to move you
Don´t itch for those that have their own plans and don´t disparage in losing you

The world was built into this game of egos
to be the fastest to grow and outrun the slow
Be the love they lack, and still fight back
Live your life your way, approve of your own everyday

and when they come on Strong with their heart grown hate
Tell them that you´re too busy loving to ever complicate

Exposed himself

Taken off the advertising, the page you were fond of
Perversion is a piece of you, your meaningless dreary hat
Mere scraggy stray srtuggler of a street cat
misleadingly shameless

Lost your self and the whole village judges you
What is love for a man as confused as you, from Windows peering
Messed up in your own footsteps Wandering, your aimless theories
Softly begging the lumberjack to fell you like a tree

I could offer you aid and sympathy
and all I´d get would be your grin
And prison won´t suit you, but you´re going, in style
Where other´s like you play out their life dramas and denials

you grew to tall for life
Family fotos stained
But soon you´ll be out on probation
Out amongst the suspicious local population

Every new ager´s opinion

One of the rules must be
love but without any cords, any parachutes
and at rock bottom no victim´s sentiment
have all the compassion in the world, do not want of need

Plank walkers in hypocrit boots, we are lovers
conditioned to need and scream for cover
To fashion strange armour to defend our vulnerable selves
to block the blows of a world obsessed with novelty

A world that would pay to see blood tears and sweat
Silence and reflection are out shone, when ours is a world too close to the sun
Compassion and warmth are frozen over, when ours is a world too far from the sun
And people demand on feasting on other´s dramas, blood spills on each season

But one of their rules must be
Love unconditionally
And philosophers from all corners grab their chins
at such a boast of impossibility

And shouting from every new age seminar pulpit
every house of the lord shakes with the sound of it
that´s your ticket to heaven buddy
don´t damn well rip it

And while we´re writing rules and righting wrongs
becoming sentimental fools for twisted love songs
Often lacking grease like needy tools, waiting our life long
bathing in our weaknesses,
we´re suddenly dry pretending to be Strong
Where´s your unconditional now?
take a deep sigh

Spectator´s sport

Teacher teacher, may I ponder
what is there truly left to wonder
what do you make from this thought lake
this reflection pond

many of us are heavy stones we are sunk
and light leaves they blow and linger on the surface
Getting a taste of the water on the way through their autumn
Flicking off with a gust of Wind

Teacher why is the moving living world so hypnotic
And the bleached city streets so dull
Have our eyes too been bleached to see only grey
Should we sheepishly believe life is but a delay?

So many of us have become rolling rocks that colide
accumulating to one side
all with the same goals as the floating autumn leaves
as stationary as our houses stalled on the shore
To be spectators of the graceful leaves
forever more

Roast hurry

words scrambled in the mind
Things to do all wig wamming around the top of the eyes
Busy creatures speed this way
No time to eat little time to sleep
Eating hurry hurry and more roast hurry for lunch

What kind of pressure would you like with your day this week
say you didn´t ask for it and beg it not to be
The way things work is it gets multiplied by three
The day wears on as if it had it´s own life
You forgot to ask if it was your friend or rival

Shotguns taped

The day I left anger
Oh glorious as it was
The day i left wasp lips
To walk in a slowly brewed quality light winter sun

Haters dared me to argue on the street
shotguns taped to the undersides of the table
Hysterical clowns who´ll never reveal their true sentiment
The day i walked away from them was a bright one

Skimpy moan moans like a basement ghost
and some rung snapping reptile practices jeering in my face
Haters routinely taunt, innuendos in their chambers
Even allies polished their weapons before opening fire

Sometimes you´ve got to keep your cool
even when they´ve sawn off the firmest legs of your stool
For skimpy moans will always find a scape goat for their shortcomings
And snake eyed rung snappers forget their friends

There are times when their gestures and words fool
they´ve got more to do with them, than they have to do with you
It´s no time to get angry or even defensive
Even when they´re mega smug and in your face offensive

Cromwell badly

A short riddle of the eery annoyance
Bony features austere and rigid
where there´s no flesh...

Sending convenient offenders to lose their heads

Intolerance grips to chalk
The biscuit of reform
skin the color of milk

The conscience as selective as his majesty's diet

The hidden agenda
a cold skeleton
German sentiment

Starvation of the soul calling death to spend

Luther´s amaciated legs
His lashed back
And contracts

And Crom was parted by a drunk, hardly able to swing an axe

Justice truly is a sword
And lofty ideals few can ever live up to
will be attached to their preacher's back

Diving for perspective

Your blink about as blank as that of the diving board´s plank
Metal bar awaiting you almost a reflection it´s misty metallic hue
Last rung at the top, anticipating your trembling hands
Your face is as pale as the water, courage needs a spark

Golden coils tangle along the ceiling
joyful and mesmerizing reflections of the sun
Almost enough to distract those concrete eyes
The last rung steams up and leaves moist hand shapes

You are now standing over the world ready to dive in
At the end of the plank looking down in shock
Earth trembling, the unstable ticker on a grandfather clock
Earth still, your nerves chaos, fear merging into emotion

You turn to look at that cold steel rung
the last one in the ladder, your glasses fall and shatter
You turn back to realize how far you´ve come
And only then have you the courage to face the world

Locked into dream

Follow you into the shadows
wrap yourself around my shoulders
And into lack of light, ritual of slumber
Embraced and locked to dream

One dream, life long
through each night, Wake into each day
clean of irritation, free of bad spirits
the freedom to love as motive

again motive to live
and dreamed of between the earliest hours
Dawns blissful prelude
Embraced and locked to dream

Healthy mouthfuls and white lies

We are all willing to change
from the rests and the leftovers
The freshly picked so quickly acquainted
with their own mortality

We are willing to trick
Sweetness in the fudge factor
hard to step away from
easy to pressout that little lilly white

Willing to go half way, then it´s the ground
until pride weighs my baggage down
White collar shining halos
the conscience is no place for a man to wallow

We are willing to massage egos
Our spines dollar sign arches
In each wave a drop of my blood
currency to the coast

Ready to transform
into what it takes for people like us
to devour tomorrow in healthy mouthfuls

Blue for what my infant?

Into arms what was inside for so long
Cradled tenderly by loving arms
Carried up by the sheep on a shield
A child, a meager infant blinded by the blue

His eye swallowed by the blue
his tongue bleached by it

And then as if the galaxy had plucked the infant
and pulled him from the earth
As he rushed off faster than lightning
The blue bubbly eyes trembling rapidly

Corpse at the station

The body lifeless and still
Less than a meter from the trainline
The word I´d use is gone

The man above her
tried to revive her
looking this way and no cure

Completely empty
as if her human form was just a container
trainstops door opens and our necks are rubber

We transform into the shocked onlookers
Tragedy´s lovers
The body still and cold

Desperation in the would be hero
It wells up and hits his face
knocking the color out

The doors close and our necks regain composure
Our heads turn back into the carriage
And the light goes out of our eyes

Thaw your insides

Thaw yourself out
They ask me what is it to feel
I shrug like a tortoise
You ask me to describe the sensation
I turn the other way

You come to me curious about your feelings
Your opinion, a band of protesters
breaking your wheels

You come to me unsure of your emotions
The beak of your belief
Pecks you out of shape

Now ask me what it feels like
Thus, stimulate your heart
Thaw your insides out
And flick the excess water in our faces

Freeze up like a frost bitten tortoise
pondering past disgrace

Belittle us sweetly

The need for sarcasm
It´s taste and shape in your mouth
before you utter it
It´s adhesion to your finger tips
before you type it

And the half grin
oh your kidding no one!
oh what a malicious waste
Oh how that half grin falls without grace
infecting the rest of that smug face

What a gift of scorn you´ve been given
To communicate with taunts lurking
Their frowns invite your smurking
Huh they´re taken aback, find yourself half quirky?

And get on that horse
and say it´s not so oh oh...
Your kidding no one, of course!
Belittle us sweetly, calculating and coarse
Bare your chest!  and what´s worse is...
you don´t go ahead and outright curse us

Bold in the ridicule
You see us all as simple tools
Half grin, you take us for fools
lame mules for the slaughter of your words
The way you make people seem absurd

A crumb on a sour night

Dropped by the night a crumb on the floor
On the hard mercilessly chilled floor
Bacteria in the hundreds joined me
the ones with antenas and claws

They rustled in the dust
As I tried to find a crumb to hide in and eat myself to sleep
Footsteps above like earthquakes
and creaking foundations at all hours

Among the crud the loose fallen hair
Where was i to find my abode
A sacred place where I could drop the sword
and feel the spirit of living instead of feed the growing wars

But no, here I go smaller than a flea
crawling in the cracks in the road from street trees
Dropped by a sour night as if I was something
as foul as the darkness

Yes i was a drop of poison
falling from the cyanide cap
bristling droplets of my syrup green back
as I explode upon the concrete

I came to and searched the world for shelter
None the sour night could offer

The beautiful blender

What could be more important?
More significant than the need to appear
To show the world your greatness and hide your weaknesses
For the world is a beautiful blender and you´ve been invited for a spin

The bliss panache of priest silk denial
Over-spoilt men boys who love their mothers´ housewife style
grin for health daily typical city bound crocodiles
Loving fondly the big events where emotion is engineered
Factories of false fashionable passion

pumped out to the masses
in pretentious gases

Guess you might need to throw a sixties party
guess you might grieve if someone heard you fart
It´s cold out put on your double layers of delusion
And practice that cold shoulder on intruders

The neon spotlight´s on you
The forgery office that helps society shred truths backs you
The clone was an obvious gift to the many men and women
taken in by pop ceremony and false virtue

Mockery of all things original and wholesome
Just another bomb in the arsenal of the arses who run this mendaCITY

The pizza and it´s toppings

Content aren´t we
as the terrible fire consumes it all in the 2020 model interactive furnace
like a hundred vultures stirring into a corpse
satisfied, are you?

Who will I employ to paint that portrait
that hides scars and dragon scales
Even masks the aroma of flesh decomposing
Who has the craft so ill, yet so coveted by people

The strongest tone of road grey
is a mind smasher of all things
A long dreadful road desolate and neverending
Isn´t there a carpet we can use to cover that

A large bandage for the wound of all wounds
We the human formicidae, wander between the greyist of structures
Pondering our worker destinies and our ill nourished dreams
Part of the map, stones in the cement that holds it all together

And in parts cracks it all
For the only thing more vile in this grey grey world
Is someone who hasn´t even got the backbone to contribute to it´s ugliness
And the few who have the courage to do their own thing...

Well they...
Soon hunger for the stability of mundane machines and thought systems
emaciated intellects and legal opiates, someone to blame
And a like minded group of well conditioned drones to approve
That my friends is the pizza and it´s toppings

Dull glimpse

When you fall into nothingness
The world swallows you hole
Your eyes see nothing beyond darkness
and feeling itself subsides

In that cold water that frightens your heart
and urges you to kick and paddle
Not only to survive but to know warmth again
New flavors of futility are found in such distraught struggles

The dull glimpse of the darkly clouded day
The freezing pool of water you are now stuck in
All part of the slap death is too lazy to give you
All part of the alarm calling you to awaken

Even when horizons are bleak
and people pretend sincerity as a habit
There is still a sun out there
One that wants to fight as hard as we do to get to us

The tapestry of society´s lies

They wear feathers and claim butter won´t melt
They are the latin remains of the brady bunch
The calm listeners of robot priests
The fine polished societal ornaments

The loveliest garments of your dreams
The religious obligations you secretly and purposely breach
Obsession with a White picket fenced mall
A sickening denial of all that surrounds

An idiom for this
An anecdote for that
The meaning of life intact
Mincing egos, behind ties and in frocks

Each spoilt boy and girl tip-toeing
as if goldilocks
As if their hearts were flooded with humility
establishments well stitched garments

In all holy glory of hypocrisy
In the all protective membraine of the holy spirit
As the 15th century portuguese axe opens up rivers of blood
To the modern day slum, which glittery t.v shows avoid

30 men(scared boys)

These men know the rules of football, oh how they care!
Yet they pretend not to know the rules of life after one beer
They play bravely on the field steady under the coaches cursing
and pray furiously in church spiritually thirsty

Thirty men who don´t lament their mistakes on life's highway
celebrate the worst of their sins as if they were achievements in a way
With effort and fervor they ruined a teenage girl, one more to their list
Men without mothers or daughters even without sisters

Thirty men show the world how strong and macho their sort
to the sickos who believe that rape is a sport
to be a man as synonymous with to hurt and humiliate
No mercy for the human being whose rights they violate
These dirty men, maliciousness their trait

In this sad story only one question won't abate
The confused people who give support to such brutality
Should they be called men? Or in reality...
Little scared boys products of apathy and calamity