Thanks for the long way

The wealthy soul
Full of vigor and reach
clasping at the beautiful vibrations of abundance
touched by a blessing

Amazing belief keeps feeding me
even when i see myself poor and broken
it lifts me and points me in the right direction
It feeds me and quenches my thirst
when parts of these hard roads lead into long deserts

The other side of which present lush forests
with villages where feasts and laughter come every time
night falls
and smiles are pushed across faces like the river flows
There is always something left for me

What kind of thank you shall I throw or spend
what kind of gratitude can I give forever, not lend.

Goals toward heaven

One step up

a structure forms under the ambition

hard enough for heaven's voice not to fall

A hand is not a tool but a life

An avenue to prosperity

Higher point in life 

Question your existance

Does god have your back?

Your greatest hope

urging you to plant something today

One step toward where you will already be

the portrait painted over the draught

with colors you got obsessed with over time

Distraction manufactures an eye off the ball effect

You put yourself on the field

You invent the sport

fall in love with the rules

and realize it's not the game you dreamed it would be

you conquered so much

Yet no one else knew you were playing

 

Desire, faith and the spoken word

A great wish fulfilled
unexpected surprise
wishing and abandoning concern
getting the outcome even through a twist of fate

A little wish that shines with special glint
and the silent listener is there to soak it up
to push it an inch closer to reality
To let it breathe in sunlight

so that the idea might have a life of itself one day
Wake at dawn a clean blue sky, desire in my hand
One bolt of lightening joining June and July
melting our south winter

coated in the brilliance of the dry sun
Faith that the month of cesar will spark abundance
one that moves emotion and much wealth this way
I throw the doubts back into the ditches

For where does fear come from but a ditch
and brilliance from a clear sky?

Aimlessness contributions

Neighbors abandoned their estates
Paramilitary on the move
submachine guns at the ready
Early winter grimaces as they hunted us down

But over the stone wall and into the subtropical forest
where maniacs hid and invented insane gadgets
Sending out videos before the dropships locate them
Life's a dangerous hobby

Everyone making aimless contributions
to a colorful blend of confusion

1st century Pseudo Nationalism

The extremism of the 1st century
Grand leaders boiling up schemes
To grasp the indifferent populations
great personalization, great separation

Everyone has a voice
a voice engineered
by the electronic trumpet
of social media machines

Extremism screaming over the internet
versus frivolous issues about pets
Authoritarian Ai systems muddle
versus designer clothes for poodles

The decade of subtle manipulation
tweeking the consumer into fashions
as if it were itself a machine to conquer
an airconditioner of favorable temperatures

Until my friend you are little more than a well informed battery
powering the software and maintaining the hardware
while a fringe idealogy comes in to harness it
And kill your freedom for a decade or so

Pre-Napoleon ambition

The conflict is a basket
others talk about greedily
as if some kind of hidden banquet
Yet to be devoured in glee

Not one terrible word will you speak
If it is peace that you seek
And the gossip leaks
won't that make you a target?

Now a musket blast could burst a barrel
cracking it down the shaft
A sharp last resort could still spurn regret
A well thrown rifle weight behind bayonette

Some war off the horizon
flashes that can be seen
yet shrapnel too far to be felt
explosions could be heard
yet the heat is still miles away

You pick up the basket
handcuffed in denial
yet free to draw blade
Some vein makes it way from the distant hills
and offers itself up to be cut

Hungry for the blood
seduced by the basket
you seek peace thick and thin
The steel divides skin
it's you in the mirror

That peace misplaced
harmony defaced
It's a word inside the blood letter
Last resort clinging to the musket
Rusty steel passionate bayonette

The silver soul of a winner

Test the winner
plan b, plan b
contingency
magic touch

Strategy lives in you
Horny for tactics
Itchy for the dramatic
pushing reactions

like business babies out of the corporate sunset vagina

I'm hungry with a blood stained knife
Test the competition
build the apparatus of fear
The office melts your silver soul

leaving drops of it across the electric carpet
minimizing the friction
That tests the winner
when plan b fails
And the contingency is aborted
like a drunken violent christmas

pouring the cement of regret and subtle steel frames of emotional blackmail
pushing reactions
squeezing the apparatus

like drugs onto millenium limit babies
using them to deal with fear
as the soul goes from color to silver
The medals fall off that disgrace of a winner

Leaving circular metallic objects
to soak up the last drops of silver soul's residue

Bleak school

Coming upon the school
disorganized parking lot of a school
haphazard and neglected, misdirected fuss
somewhere grey but light enough to have us

Half planted garden bed
quaint in it's attempt
at being mis-shapen as a pear
Paths leading nowhere

stairways to crisis
the walls screamed forgive us
A concrete world is hard against our flesh
But gives us an elegant illusion of certainty

Euphoric youth protests, their naiivety haunts and plays
Once quelled, pretend friends are made at the welcoming driveway
of the empty school with a masters course in fake
hands were shaken and false old souls awakened

It was like perfect strangers rather
forcing themselves to recognize each other
alas alas you are all a space of wall
one day you will become nothing more
than a blank for crude graffiti and scrawl

The water horse

The great mystery heaved it's body of 5 tonnes
It's mate wallowing at the lake's floor
slowly dying in the thick mud.

The great beast mother moving
through the depths of the lake
chasing salmon and trout
and settling below the outlet

Nestling into the submerged craggy wall of rock
opening out into the stubby origin of the outward flowing river
As schools of fish entered the lake against the current
The beast would jut it's neck up and get a mouthful

Just a few meters below it's two offspring waited
necks up begging for a piece of the what fell out
of the beasts razor sharp tooth filled mouth

the beast a shadow haunting the neglected depths
known only through legend
Unknown and almost never seen

Hell of a quarter

A cluster of similar souls
all smiling out as if on a roll
faces bunched together almost touching laughter
Convinced there will be enough blessing water
To float outside of hell

Souls that held on for survival on death's bell
that just didn't really know themselves
Negotiating enough spiritual goodwill to fly
to navigate the empty neutral skies

Looking down on humanity while sailing
pointing out our errors, remarking on our failings
unable to retake the human test not even as a clone
Mocking our mistakes when they couldn't fix their own

Smiling down
pretending to be angels of old
They were just members of a board
of empty minded souls

looking for a herd or a hoard
they could lead with zeal a predictable recital
Send them nowhere cheerfully
smiling down with fancy titles

Their previous lives darkened
spent clawing at a higher position in the crowd
a useless hierarchy
Now they are just smoke in a pretty cloud

Smiling like they know something else
Like the rest of us believe something false
That they have mastered the cycle of spirits
That they had replicated heaven in their cluster

Foolish souls blown by the wind strongly
Lost by their overwhelming lust to belong
Holding their smiles firmly invisible lip pins
hiding torture from beneath and within

Who knows where their good intentions went
You know we choose our own punishment

Ink for love

Designs in your chest
from the skin through to the heart
letting it breathe
Criss cross pattern

Esoteric pill
symbolic medicine
Crazy deep lines

Designs in your voice
colored tokens of a magic wish
You get out of your bed
like exiting a space rocket

I see the smoke
blue and grey
is the misty mess
part of love's recipe

infecting eyes and tongues
rousing the shape of desire
feeding ink for the design

Find your spark

Grind your flint

create that spark

Why dullen yourself

why give up still at the starting line

Block the falling sword before another piece of you dies

An excuse is not a shield, understanding your error is

What great desire are you lying on your altar

concrete laziness

Grind your flint

sparken your eye

surge with energy

find yourself

Why set your existence to mediocre

don't you want more?

The future begs to marry you

lost in the past

like a lamb stuck outside the fence

back to the sinister woods

where predators and calamity hide

Harsh hold

The house was half taken by the forest shade
as if it purposely blocked the sun and had a say
A family settles there by the mysterious creek
nights are quiet and days are loud and supernatural

The baby only six months not yet even comprehending
That the lost soul in the shaded house existed neverendingly
Alone the baby sat between two new sofas in calm euphoria
with a pencil a piece of paper and a strange face he was drawing

A baby drawing the crying face of the melancholic phantom
the impossibility spreads across the skin in goosebump fashion
The baby looks up as the page levitates by itself as if to speak
The manifestation of the ghost of harsh hold creek

The dust of a dead tomorrow

The outposts
Far from the center
from where it all matters
All left to fend for themselves

Dust blows up
but not information
So far from the hub
Just an empty small city

assault rifles loaded and cocked
But only the crooked yellow wind
The scavenger crew flew out
jeep revving fearfully

Not knowing what is to come
as the city rumbles like a stomach
some ghastly ambush waiting to happen
though silence dominates every nook and cranny
of the abandoned city

Not a frown or a smile
Pulling barbed wire across the front of the entrance
Repelling the unthinking predatory leftovers of the apocalypse
that roam the night relentlessly sniffing out the slightest whiff of life

To devour it between epileptic jaws.

Dreamers reap rewards

never did I ever stop to look what my mind was painting
What colors were in my lobes just a ranting
So vivid and extraordinarily weird
The waves of imagination

Sometimes it's a great escape
somewhere we go even when there is so much more
And somewhere we go when there is nothing
where we can bathe

Life out there a forest or a mountain
don't put boundaries around it
Don't burn some of that image
just because anxiety has a throne

You must be painting a new satisfaction
A nice piece of sun inspired light
across your aspirations
neon  money s brushstrokes