Not the guest

 Last words cheerily exhumed
hospital bed epiphany
the last of the family were given their nametags
death was just a deficient child in the corner
questioning it´s ability with the scythe

Last words planned on a banner
in a tear catching letter
In a softex swiping video
The last insights of a lad on his way
death just threw in another few years

Sitting alone on a parkbench
god told him to watch the old man with eagle eyes
but death stared out like a defendant waiting on a plea
the job never got any easier and the scythe had to be sharpened

the pumps and machines to accompany me
when visitors couldn´t find the time to see me off
Some new beginning north of alpha centauri
some new beginning on the fuel of heartfelt sympathies
Death herself won´t look me in the eye

iv hangs off my arm and the minutes and hours I have left
seem to talk to me, the end to me
the language of death
a few dialects in serious diseases
 these are a few of death´s delicacies 

Death so suave and so confused
Not a middle aged gentleman with a pocket watch and goatie
The untangible witness
The last heartbeat, the last breathe
Not guest but strange host observing, ever approaching

God is the first word

 In the jumble of existance, the disorder we´ve been thrown into
In the track and cycle, in the philosophy of destiny
all of it like clothes we wear

The drive to the beach filled with the likely scenery
the grin, smile and frown- journey through
Somewhere in it is the divine scientist
writing jokes about evolution

Behind the curtain pulling the lever
to each little impulse
Ordering and adding chaos to every little pool
in each geopolitical pietry dish

coming out of the screen invisible
not able to communicate with it´s own creation
Somewhere in an artifact it´s written
in that same artifact a challenge is made

The endeavor that would cut a generation down
ruin a civilization
as god wipes his lips after taking a swig
In one blink we moved from animals to robots

a Line of code written across the world system
Digital Scripture
God the first word
Misunderstood by you the reader at every possible angle




 

The human experiencial landfill

 Through life we are unquestioning creatures
scuttling through busy and idle routines and screen´s new features

Ruled by well designed populism
Neon bright marketable ideas lit up by the base
tearing out your tastebuds and engineering a collective face

This system creates convenient shortcuts
An algorithm that makes you, your biggest fan
our past rusts our eyes through
our tongue and heart too

Through the unquestioning void of our true bias
Our known and familiar surround design
The software helps us build it
and we walk out holding billboards written -individual

We walk out like a conveyor belt´s exit
with individual printed to our foreheads in the most beautiful fonts
We walk out identical

Ruled by well designed populism
we are the market internally and externally
we brainwash ourselves into believing a uniqueness
convenient shortcuts to the products we are sold

Altogether the past rusts our eyes
our culture rots our skins
our consumerism infects us with the same virus

And we get into the limelight of our own comfort zone

celebrating ourselves from computer screen lit shadows
we are the glowing mess of the social media foodchain
our essence a grey sludge resting on the chemist´s bench


To be mixed into a convenient recipe
and then sold as a currency

No simultaneous farewell

 Life once made sense to him

The wind would blow to hurricane limits
but not leaf would be stripped from the tree

Life moved on toward a mid city creek
sunny and glad the hill cloud divide

Sweet calm imposed on him like
a totalitarian curfew

Dependency an ugly new skin
worn now at age

Life no longer makes sence to him

The two grand angels that graced his existance
will now be part of a new disappearance
that his brain comprehends
that his heart won´t admit is crushing him

yet conspires with mouth to pretend

The sweet calm, now visits as darkness
where feeling danced across the sunlit stream
dull hill cloud sends it´s voidlike greyness

But father unique 
no simultaneous farewell I beg
Live on to hear their tongues utter another language
Live on for new life´s arrival

So new life choose me
to warm our conditions
burning midcity hill cloud
for another year of vitality

As if undiscovered

 It knows us well
it explores our digital existance

and we go on as if undiscovered

It knows our desires like a complex recipe
a fraction of it goes to advertising companies

Each click we deem a choice

The rest into a deepening container
the shape of your essence

We go on as if undiscovered

It wasn´t a computer virus
that deepened our dependencies

The whispers that trespass the tulip

Near the northern edges over the land
seasons all romantic and noble
dulled over by cheap lazy talk
from the commoners about climate change

shadows do visit though
and they seem to be long and fang like
The northern ones that would pick the best tulips
from the wild forest edges

This little square of the baltic
sunbasking for a good few weeks
the earth so foreign to this heat
And here he is silence himself

Grin turning up through the valley
sunny ray scanning the low brush and attempts at a canopy

silence himself
the palm of his hand too big for mine
his presence so strong that we ourselves wring our hands
commoners seperate

The old grey buildings contrast with the overcrowded ones
in the pale optimistic burb of Kupchino
Silence couldn´t get a word in there
I can hear their alluring whispers from south atlantis.