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