Savas agasi dogum

 He grew deadly inside
Tarzan like
Toward the city of light
Teeth fanglike

Oh that tick
inside the ambition watch
a boiling coup de tat
spreading like a rash

Burning castles on the flag
The nails and blades and overconfident grins
dressed up in armor and honor and deathfear
then made naked through thundering bloodshed

Half into the cunning pool of lava
Half into the vengence obsession
boiling away between the heart and mind
Skirmishes and executions and tears of joy

Write your own ending

 God was bored so rocked the goat 
you struggling in the mirror
the motorbike´s exhaust blew out just as you feared
fat fed on festival food and a tiring career

What´s on the other side of your numbers
that you could be injected into some digital body
The human vaccine the cure and the cause
farting out like an exhaust

God was messing with the sunset one night
you with those secret colors, encrusted shame
box of sacred anxiety and the excess fumes
exhausted and immune

What´s on the other side of the mirror
sweat on your sheets curtains pulled
and target practice at security and antifrighten
exhaustion your underlined grocery list item

Sublime yourself from worry into hurry
it reverses itself like that godgiven gravity
each exhausting attempt like a horse that ran it´s last race
Your own backfiring ego attempting to save face

the lines of code falling into the toilet water
making the smooth meditational music
Now so essential for your slumber
The coping mechanism
through boredom, deadlines and numbers 

Life´s a joint

 Smoked life
now thats a spicy slab a ham
He rolled it up
the ingredients intact

The paper like a canvas
to be stained by heat and resin
and the boiling oil
south of the ember

conversations
each little talk has it´s purpose
once its done it´s done
flicked like a butt roach

Oily smoke in the present passing through the future
that tightly rolled joint collecting the gas and THC
through the remaining journey of your life
into your lungs into your brain

start coughing as you get closer to the last inch
whats the point of god we roll our own lives
you smoked it as if it were cream of the crop
as if it had meaning just to burn through it

where does that smoke go?
Does it just linger in the ether?
What manner of unfulfilled desire is life?
Is death?

Is the atrocity to leave life without asking the questions
Simply consuming and being consumed
your soul a mere reaction to it´s surroundings
No purpose beyond offspring and pleasant appearances

deny illumination

What we never learn
the prohibited information
information that our own mind denies
that our biases configure and rally
Corrupt leaders of the absent intellect

The sacred knowledge
that could ease more than one foul species of pain
that could relieve us of the audible anxiety
and the clawing nails of the past

We reject the very medicine
that would free us.

Gate way Richard

 Balancing life on a few specs of white dust
the street was empty when he wanted it that way
romance was a project and euphoria´s head swayed
in Ricardo´s shadow

The two garage doors shut tightly
but left a gap just big enough
for competent thieves and bandits
And instead of palms he planted pines

it never soothed his heart
The north of his desires
with redness and fullness
and click of tongues briefly entwined in passion

Somewhere deep in the south
rubbing sticks for a spark
Ricardo returned empty handed
His woman jekylled by his baggage

shortcuts bitter than old lemons
attempting to shed his skin
addictions turned up emaciated and convincing
invited him to coffee and got added to the wagon

Not twenty girls could heal his heart
Not a joint laced or a face of icing sugar
Gates left open for the jackal like devils
The hussling demons who´d yawn and scream

Drag on his will to live
whereas deep down the child of him frowning and neglected
Could never be satisfied
winter and his skin turned pale
summer and his skin burned like hay

Reptiles seem to survive
You thought it would revive you
the stale traditions and the afternoon clouds
meaninglessness declaring iself into the physical form
extorting gratification

Deep under that water of the afterlife Ricardo
your friends would bring you back to life
a child of living and love
The gates of your life sturdy
put back love into thin thin heart

Breath back into your lungs
 

Father water

 Your father water
your father had sons
the earth carried life
as the sun did planets

like tadpoles in the riverside muddy ditch
someone saw value in us
A god who knew us in our dreams
who prepared our brains as one does a feast

Your father trucks
and heavy transport
upon the roads of potholes
burdens and sharp curves

When I volunteered father
and I disappointed
a split second of distraction
You were there

life miniscule or majorscule
has no translation in any human language
a mere word cannot capture it
Father, thank you for life

For every bitter sadness
for every quasi epiphany
For the road and the river
and the journeys I have taken on both

apple from the tree

 you didn´t just fall out of the moulder
to be capable of shouldering
To be the kind of heir that cares
a chip of the old rolling boulder

What did I take from you
what did I give
How well can we rate the interaction
what more can we sive

what more can we conclude
is the definition true?

For the inner light in you

 The inner light in you 

let it have dominion
seventy one years of glow
each minute hour that flows

The seagull over claire' s lawn
Chimes out at sunset
The pink hues drifting down
To the canopy spiritual hands up toward heaven

The shift in you is the seagull shrieking
The inner light through it all
what are all of these years of existence
Nut cubes of light to fill the room perception

From sunset to sunrise every season of the year
depositing it's extremes like an eagle on fire
While you at seventy one observe the world
having witnessed it repeat and change tirelessly

Bless you like the many wonderful moons
Forgive the forgetful and sometimes absent sun

existence as a foreign language

 Scream at the corner
where your father used to sit
Until life escaped him
more than he escaped it

A pitch that would deafen demons
immigrating from the mouth
across the rule of life
across the chaos of death

And their ongoing scheme

Your upward curve

 The leak of legacy
The official forgetting of an era
A billboard replacement
rent of the mind

Absent bedside manner

 In the house ambulance
up and down elizabeth street
A glass zoo both sides of the family
Death bed calamity
Bandages on both kidneys
the sirens rang idyllic panic
Iv drips directly into the brain
the patient my father quite lost as the ambulance turned
what color or degree of mould we will never know

Although those that know best 
with a certificate from god were there
while I was off here in Brazil
fulfilling my own false need for peace
with a mind wound up for war

The ambulance as big as a house
The blood cleaning machines 
The perfection of proud concern
the road and tires screeched like dogs
Like thieves who were sneaking away
in a stolen car
Me in this stolen life
Did I have to steal it to own it
Both kidneys bandaged now

The heart begs for fairness
the brain simultaneously ridcules
and explains it away like a wise older brother
an absent one that drove through ditches to get to palm trees
That are dust just to taste nobilis leaves
But the way the ambulance swerved
everything shifting toward the glass window
overlooking the apathetic city


The ambulance gurney painted with every face of a caring family
except my face
Except my ditch
My unworthy limp
the glitch of me
The tainted blame
The century of disappointment crammed into a few years
That my own brother wish me dead
That he curse me with every chamber
that feudish so natural in his spirit
That I could even love that part, as the years roll like boulders

across my pre-tech generational novelty epoch

souls apart

 different extremes
each persons` dreams

Whatever their reality is
through it truth is screened

A great day in Finewoods of swampeden

 In the fine woods in the nearest place to swamp eden
where the forest and swap vegetation merge worshipping each other
Mossing where sunlight couldn´t reach
causing a strange mystical friction upon the surrounding

The niave outsider made his way into this world
a clumsy insect into the flower
He cast his line into the swamp ponds alluring waters
Only to be cast himself high out above the water

And there constantly floating about
the intoxicated dragonfly

As if acquired by nature
then echoed out the way it intended
The hunter fisher or gatherer became an animal to serve it
a soldier in it´s army, a word in it´s language

Over and under the swamps dwelled a people so obsessed by tradition
it was hardly fathomable they be able to survive
meeting at their long dimlit tables in their dens
rodent like eyes checking for rapport only sufacing to inspect their past
as if to check if they actually had an origin and not a fable concocted

Museums were as churches
An ancient empty feeling touches the skin, falling like tattered spider web
the chambers broad and haunted, the dust alive somehow
The door arches x ray machines exposing our inner intention
in front of us, a blatant shield using our own malice to fearfully trick our minds

Passing by the subterranean laboratories and temples
Under huge overbearing hardwoods
Their roots curving the subtle lip like entries which give the enterer no head space
almost as a warning that those who do not bow as they descend
will injure the very part of the body that creates thought

The end of this world comes as the midafternoon sun exposes the shade
dappled light speaking to the ground warning it of the final minutes
Humans base desires protruding out of them like neon signs
and blocking them from getting into those labs and temples
And so hastening their departure for the lackluster cities of the common

But it was a great day, the tickle of existance could be felt
seltsam and exquisite

The loud entsobia

 she sat at the back of the class
closer to the loser, the bully, the misunderstood
the mix of music noise soup
boiling sperm

no telepathy yet
just an explosion of random contrary thoughts
expressing themselves
Violently and chaotically

desks scarred and lined
Threats and fears meet in aged biro
Defeat and victory make out over the wood
A tagged up grafiti orgasm

The drone like teacher
pushing wrinkles and bodily exhaustion
against the lino shoe marks and prejudice
He tramps back to silent damp state house

The loud soup of life
youth it´s parsley

Fitting in

 Fitting in
raise your glass
To never know oneself
On the train glancing out for something
eyes getting grabby toward the passing scenery
None of it, all of it
all of you confused

Forbidden self knowledge
Blindspots in your self
Just neighbors you try to avoid
always on the quest to be understood
never taking it on yourself

Waiting for someone else to cement you
between the other bricks

To know oneself well
where convenient
letting the parts of yourself you don´t understand
have their yard time
before you go out to live your real life

Chips of it all breaking off
in the friction of an uncontrollable world.

Dinner time

 you can´t decide on which cafe
the courtyard miniskirt confusing the path of your stroll
Your war cry accused of being a troll
chicken being fried out of some paupers heart

The underground filled with clean water

flowers and plants and fish fill it up
giddy euphoria
behind the glass you watch the animals
and they watch you as if spirits from the afterlife

The long green grass so abundant
the new fruits not quite mature
expectations fly
like hammers and axes

The underground grows into the world

The energy to reach for boots
take up the fight
like kindling alight
With all the meaning of a town center food court

Appetite settling the stomach and the life purpose
deep desire craddling my veins
Oh what freak of the light
a freak of the light

Unable to decide which restaurant to eat in

Near saltlake

 The godfearers farm
dusty and humble
their frowns and glares barren as the dusty flows

Their windmills clatter
and dirt roads loom up
wounds in the land of religious rural poor

was it a cackle that old age blurted
unwilling to serve those last glasses of lemonade
to the parched heathens that we be

Forest of ignorance

 Your love is a tree

feelings leave

Your illusion inside
the way you see

Your roots anchor you down

in beliefs below buckled knee


You seek help in the wind
thinking it free

Your trunk dry and advantageous

reduced in the winter chimney



Fire warms the poor and the extremeties of the world
It burns the blissful who ignore
charming flame curl

aflame, passion extorting the premise of love
ashes that the wind picks up under obligation

Imperial legacy

 In the beautiful lodge
between those emerald hills we just took
initiating a new future
getting ready to build

The terrorist appears
the rose bud opening
each petal a threat
The timer was set, so life´s in a bunker

certain truths are just sharp knives
we cant be trusted to handle
So the mansion burns
down to coal caked girders
Destruction reads us a bedtime story

The terrorist appears clad in our fears
Moving behind the rose
initiating a future of his own
fed by a river of martyrs

vengence and a scented death
Funeral permission
cinders and coal black smoke
drink it all in
as you work on the next big weapon

Close to the top floor

 Jaw shudders
interaction stirrs not more than a stutter
the wrinkled hands of time
offer fast food and confusion

mall light aggressive
instilling the consumer ethic
down to the last penny
down to the last minute

Struggling across the floor
Hips so fragile
Holding son´s hand
relief looms up a bench ahead

Lips quiver
the whole night a severity
claustrophobia pushing it all in
agoraphobia pulling it all out

The overbearing lights
newborns would obsess with
just confuse your existance
over stimulus 
the late evening

whirlwind of age

Mister Baggins

 Your grey pride
Ash on thick jungle
A simpleton stutters and spits you out

Burning bridges in Brasilia
Tell us how the pastel tastes
while it singes our tongues

The scissors were closer, throw away the lawnmower
so you cut the lawn for months

obsessed with the sound of your own laughter
you postid noted your sons
So you could vaguely remember

You traded lakes of fresh water
For reservoirs of your own ego
A patriotic carioc an oxy-moron
conjecture your beautiful ammunition
accusation your cannon

You sold lofty ideals
To people still battling their lurid musts
Traditional sugar and disease

Serve the statue

 Did you grow and how did you waver
the dark statue holds it´s callous stance
lost in himself the tree he planted shading his existance
A wet forest novelty
a sense of family

I´d like to know how the wrinkles formed
How the color ran from your face too soon
Your preschool shadow still following you
your best friend, the invisible acceptable predator
The open hand reaches up for a sedative

How did you not get motion sickness
anger is a plausible prison an enchanting disgrace
a dancing dark statue in the shape of a cage
surrounding you
protecting you

You wrote the antonym
to the word you wanted to be
with ink dripping down from the statue
onto the contract, an agreed upon lie
Prove something to our rivals
before we die

It is on the bus route

 At the station where all connections start
grey box transport
Comfort is the worst friend
even his brow is wrong

we get out of the bus at the wrong stop
so attached to the destination
We forget to love the scenery
Yet a map a comes together

Neighbor obsesses
Belonging feels good
the target somewhere between
reciprocity and clammering for common

Comfort is left behind
the bus leaks fuel
diesel in the nose
Gardens all the way to the airport

a thousand elderly tending them
effort in the bending and weeding
effort in the smile
effort in the denial

My toy a lost bus
lets call it hypocrisy
headed away from my destination
Tragically aging

The metro station spat like a homeless fiend
As I made my way up
The flower and grass covered road
each one of us seeks out a path

I look to the sun
who tells me his deepest secret
he´s just a piece of the illusion
grass and flowers need an excuse to live, it is it

If only I could have followed your directions
Have known my heart early and written the itinerary
Perfection the apricot lick
Pure self trickery

Just as the bus swerves desperately into denial avenue

The walls of existance

 walls have collected water
The plaster is falling away like cake 
paint flakes romantically stuck
Age is god that laughs itself back into life
After giggling itself to death

You can dig out the rot
replace it with new material
paint over it again
facades bipedal facades

straw shaped minds
sugar and opiate
passion and meaning
The decorated lounge of love

giggling ourselves to death
In colors we explode into
emotions we glue ourselves to
a pocket full of savory wrong conclusions
a simple book on existance

glittered with tangy fantasy
stuck roughly on the cake batter
to hide the holes that have been forming

The phantom of stimulation

 The person you never were
The house and family you never had
existing just out of range
interferring in your sleep

warming up the imagination
Provoking the thirst for rest
A perfect scream
one that could be fabricated by the million

The lustful desire to be heard
yet it´s meaninglessness
when those that heard felt nothing
Not even a dull curiosity

You wake up in some other reality
brick and mortar in your hands
how did it get there?
The mouth thirsty to scream

empty streets
deaf masses
get your loaf of caredom
Buy it with your excess credit
from accounts futility and boredom

silence piles on
the invisible commuters
on the train of your soul
hitching a ride shamelessly
leaving crude graffiti and a migraine arrow through you

Just cock that scream
aim it high and load on the decibels
why can´t you just get it through to the ears
of a mispent youth

Seasons of war(The siberian campaign)

 The sacrificial war
dawn black, first light explosion
sweeps across the frontline
hearing loss and awe

pressing forward and robbing the nemesis
of land and resource
The counter attack an expensive acquisition
of fallen weapons and reinforcements

Nearing the line, attracts bullets and shells
eyes focus in to maim and burn and blitz
Fire creeps across the land
frosts melt and storms form

a strange ambition drips down to the lower ranks
Materializing into the fingers attached to hands
that belong to the field commander

Reinventing california

 Hotel game
reinvent california
sunroof iconic car ride
Blue deep with white streaks of cream cheese clouds

restless and spacious
birth until puberty
sun peaking in
a sense of importance rustles
yet never settles

Hotel game 
clerk girl refuses
Property waits to be checked in
The world is in the reception lounge
reinventing california

The manager calls you in
His office cluttered and chaotic
confusion tackles his face
as you explain again
You need room to reinvent california

Ethereal farm

 somewhere in pondland
dreamland
the common man´s heaven

sunlit and heated grass and reptile garden
The compost layered
steaming up

each bed to be planted
scraps scattered
nothing devoid of meaning

god´s whisper tingles and assures the scraps that we are
gently with words that border on opiate driven states
The sun, a father, it´s mere existance pushing life forward

The hoping and knowing inside of faith´s universe
where idiot and architect collide

Our boxes and us

 the forbidden bedroom
abandoned public toilets

anxious box of fifty year old nurses
opened and examined, not spoiled yet

The empty box of chocolates
attempts at pleasure, flavor and the delusional dream

The greyish dull concrete moist with steam
lit by shopfront windows of distrustful clerks

all from ships that ran aground in fleets
and wandering vagabonds settle and get to work

with candyshop grace
It´s a name and a place for renting

a skimming stone bounce a few centimeters
closer to an identity

Old conservatory

 By the conservatory
sporting the cheese cutter

reminiscent of the forties
pink red brick path in
corregated plastic
dampness

Grin and beard
hope toward a future
if you could be like water
just flowing never resisting

stained thick jersey
seaweed sweat
glasses over optimism
philosopher´s pose

falling into the grey area
yet never really leaving the black and white

Years as sandpaper of wear and tear
yet there you are near dusk
near certainty
so close to the worn bricks of that old conservatory

The bullfighter´s veil

 Hi envy
you are full of pomp and honor
if only you had what others have
if only you were what they are

Not prepared to face their challenges
But open to push the phoney notion
of the evil eye or other´s want
and how you say it destroys your success

But envy
when you listen to the envious
their words hit you, not their energy
if you allow them to sabotage you it´s through their actions

But envy your lack of identity
is the only true power you wield

 

Sanity played on the broken flute

 It was a human being
graffitied on the wall
bounced to death, yet still alive

the terror at it´s schizophrenia
judging eyes of the passers by
the people close petrified

That they also might wind up
catching a strange species of brain crazy
one that locked them into alone

awaken to the child´s mindless sabotage
just cooking in the skull oven

society a smirk a mock a tease
Claiming it has no love for these

that the thick layer of desirable specimens
are the only measure of quality

The silent sufferer seldom gives into violence
or even profanity

It´s just people´s personal fear of that fragile
abstract concept of sanity
 

The orphan seedling

 the orphan becomes the father
the sky the earth

treat the true things
that we as tools must learn

A prayer made of hope and fear
loosely sewn together

The orphan sprouts a house and children
The father becomes part of the floor

And he was given 2% of god´s favor

A vetless nobody dog

 The puppy face painted on the pavement
awkward grin gritting up, How dare it
Like a head with no body
a graffitied sentence to death

Fur and options
quarters and blue inverted bridges
Looking up a nobody puppy
No dog body to speak of

In your confusion
as the words concuss you
and the puppy head kiss fusses
until the bones are out of your travel jacket
on your desperate journey home

trying to keep it all in the bag
Those four quarters of the pooch
Sick semblance of what was once living
among the bustle
your unwell concerns stirring the empty stomach
a post war broth
some dog skull surfacing just to be sprayed with salt

Next to my father

 Next to creation
finding oneself through doing

moving traveling

Next to my father
hugging dusk

Building his own night


Next to the stars
piercing twilight

Is that where he will go?

The shape of us

Most of you here reading this, dream of moving

of traveling of being somewhere else soothing

There is an illusion of relief

an oasis effect

an escape even if brief

almost an opiate

Your routine is your title, your clothes, it becomes your skin

your shackles, your prison, your island

You need a halloween, a valium, a reinvention guru on the podium

those daily tasks and chats and weekly out on a limb purchases

equate to mold and dust 

If I could list our incidents of troll like fuss of lack

it would be a deathbed made upon a laiden camel´s back

Humour is those quirky attempts at the unpredictable

straying out of the fossil self, squeezing the addrenaline glands

forraging for stimuli

From the sperm to the egg
from the hospital gurney to the dirt bed

Hotel whim

 You arrive and tell the waiter to turn down the sun
as if it were the volume on your wireless headset

They read your sexual fantasies like a medical exam
so you can have all the bells and whistles tinkled and blown

Each minute is luxury gluttony
immediate gratification

Yet like a milkshake that was too thick
you just can´t get enough up the straw

It must be now, you need so much more
The pool calls you and the bathers too
they want to wrap around inside out
until the orgasmic vein bursts

Check into you fat naked nirvana glistening with sugar and creme
your apetite is wet til the point of saturation
your organs buck and shake 
vibrating with anticipation

then wrinkle and dialate
under the stress and wear of exaggeration


You get back home in your underwear
stained and soiled with hedonistic flare

people call you simpatico
charisma without care

Tomorrow hangover, the coming down
check out on those days of empty despair
epicurean and euphoric hollow
polar rollercoaster up love, down fear

Proud stairs of evolution

 Mining patience
Hack my sense of honor
Toss the mediterranean salad
A kitchen of wood and shadows

Vines and powerlines
hacking into asteroids
extract that prime mineral
space and the face of your existance

Inside the anxious pillow

 waking to the blackness of the room
emptiness and an untangible presence
waking reaching for the phone
To read the time and confirm morning

The corridor knocks and echoes
An ancient energy splashes itself onto the walls
Morning is too afraid to arrive
It sits somewhere in the distance outside the city

waking to the dark gloom
restlessness and an untangible sense of absense
Forcing yourself to sit up to feel awake
yet your eyes are still closed darkness holding them so
as you imagine the phone light illuminating the bedroom

Waking to the sound of some crashing whino out on the street
The spiritual jewel cracked and shattered daylight peeping in
however you are still unconscious and dawn is ever black
Pining to be real to exist out of sleep
anxiety followed you into your sonofied state waking pretend
grasping at your own eyelids at the corridor´s door

 

The feminine jeep

 A trip down to the local consumer building
The youth was glared at and smirked at
dodging the intolerant in his skirt
swapping shoes, losing identity

sexshop shame showing on the face
clinging to the uncertainty
reflecting through exposure
uncomfortable revelation

The mall an identity building space
where the concept of freak is re-evaluated
packaged and resold as convetionally abnormal
The shoppers come in with nice empty hearts

Lets lament the part of themselves they abandoned
acquiring a face was easier than learning how to build one 

Entering a one way street

 Going against the flow of oncoming traffic
looking for someway to exist
Not knowing which wrong turn is less worse
You made your bed, so to speak

The phantom mansion
slowly comes into existance
How do I install laughter and forgiveness
Love and acceptance

How do I connect the main road to it
Instead of living in some lost statue

Calamity pavement

 Family city
slopes off suburban hills
avenue brothers
street cousins

You spend years sweating 
each step an effort
up that hill
just to step into wet cement

street cousins jeer
as you slip down that long corridor
losing your progress
and destroying the freshly paved

avenue brother
boulevard mother
Can you see the calamity
more clearly than me

The motorized illusion

 cluster refineries and destruction
the molten mixture pouring out of the fissure
The dragon´s throat acid spilling into the caves
where prehistoric human like us brave

Gusts of blast waves burns and concussion
We need to be well oiled machines on the earth
We need to fit into the cogs of society´s overheating engine
sweeten their axles with greasy lies so that the whole shitshow rolls

Life is a pet store

 The world was a toy
A gorse bush waiting for the goat
An empty kerosene can bouncing and hitting the pavement
The ship yard and the river wherever life moves

The simple valley port
spawns tadpoles of adventure
excitement and the unknown
No time to stay a child

The world was a tool
we can inflate ourselves
to the size of whales
leverage near the capital

selling simple comforts
To take care of something
even when you were less cared for

The endorsed marriage

 Father was a towel
Mother a cellphone
The train station smiled
the pavement nagged

The Rees boys waited for their money
down by the strip mall
nights were thieves
merciless fate peddling fiends

Forfeit love
under a numbness that society weaves
Desperation is given a golden ring
And long years of affection are given disregard
A kind dose of negligence

Father listens, the nose smell I told you so
Brother looks at the ground solutionless
And mother panics in a thousand voices

When you lose the only person who could stirr a spark for living
Just to make the puzzle fit

Wedlock and child support

 The family was accustomed to drinking candy soup
We found a few ways to impress our father
Yet it was a meager garden

There just wasn´t alot being offered
flash floods of envy hidden under layers of makeup
And the family fractured as father walked out
The van packed with another family chattering kids

The van was as wider than a bus and whiter than a ghost
All strapped in, seat belts tying them to a new destiny far out
Leaving the front lawn like fugitives, those desperate eyes

and then night

Fire on the greek ankle

 The chorus had horns and wings and talons
given from god and hell and heaven
audiences of control freaks whose faces reach light speed
The darkness of space the blankness and obviousness of legends

 The voices singing the chorus were dry wood
Smouldering vowels and crackling consonants
Fire tied to the foot of the chorus
creeping up it like Italy

the fire curled cunningly seeking out invisible eyes
To have them observe it bronzing and scorching the musical notes
Fire now a knot attached to the titan
bland ash starting to form and fall from the white hot ankle

The chorus whipping and banging off the pine bark
rebounding off those stubborn date palm columns
up toward the base of the acropolis
taking fire like hungry god tongues

Flirting with Iberia Like a phoenician rogue
On the heel like Gibralter under moors and inquisitors
drunk on the ore flavored rocky grape not so different from
chalky athens

Supersizing youtube fruiter

 The plump I told you so
doesn´t slip from smug face
Instead rattles around the jaw
re-exploding in sudden utter grin

For his scraps hit the pig pen floor
before yours did
They filled the swine until darkness
and the poop is profitness

His plump assurances
show you he has been doubling down on that candy
working it into his own belly
And using his roundness to conceal grievous realities

Sweat beads don´t form his house is a well stocked fridge
Attach that huge sponge hand on and bellow fan slurr
You´ll spike this lardy hussler´s average
You the viewer are happy meal leverage

Death´s no game

 Toward the end all heroes feel the pinch
The last spark flies out of them
and their last words sound out
across their empty death bed moment

Jaws move and so does the tongue
Gritty scream that seems to say...

This is not a game

and the brain clenches another intense
like lungs holding breath

this is not a joke

And from somewhere out in the ether
death lets out a muffled cackle
Attempting to silence its laugh
as the last heartbeats count down

It´s not a game

The tides of oblivion roll in inevitable and greedy
the body convulses one last time, the final wilt

it´s not a joke

and the energy subsides
The horror drains out of it

But did you flow out with it?

Ingredients and method to immortality

The inner armour

inner power of superorgans

energy hidden in them

brewing and fusing

distilling and strengthening

Eternal passion emanating from the bones
sparks hitting veins and revitalizing them

The decades and centuries ahead

Are food for the tireless brain

The Mb017 model

 Out of northern california came the modern soldier
In any climate any envrionment it operated
executing it´s orders, barely human

Operating in the coastal swamps
waves hitting above the neck
forward forward

Addicted to it´s food fuel
located in it´s backpack
Northern california hussle

A new order for humanity
in the pacific collaboration

Reason was abducted

insanity and it´s apprentice

grining up from excess comfort
death a flea in the couch fabric

Emphatic denial a family blindness
sweet overpowering flavors
dropping like future tears unfelt in the present

Clean house underlying fearful vibes
Our brains behind fragile skulls
Humans so precariously programmed by sharp emotions

The rusty van of assumption has a mercenary at it´s wheel
pulling up to the empty house
The air is creme, life is a dare

The observer passes over it all in an airbound modern frigate of fortune 
Spreading your existance like mayonnaise

The guard dog

 The dogs of the yard
shape the throat of security
The blades in it´s bark

Looking down from the concrete water container

Aggressive lunges
The dog of the yard grins
The master pretending to be neutral

Making the yard it´s own by scent and smell

dead grass and dry turds the lawn taunts
Howling and slurping
The dog´seye sparking

Bite marks and flames 

Another non-read for your highness

 This trashy piece of mould
I´ve put it on the plate and called it a truffle
Maybe you might sample a piece and participate in this game of pretend with  me

My words lost in these systems and clouds
poetry a strange fetish and joke 
a quirky shame filled with bacteria

But this trashy piece of mould is an acquired taste
And I am afraid I´m going to have to charge you 
Just for observing it´s zestless montage

I´ve pushed this mush up inside your bored brain
Not a flicker of interest as it slushes around up in there
I could put some capers and sundried tomatos on that

I´d still need a million of you vomit resistant consumers
to give me an ethereal thumbs up on the poxy thread I mean

so the rest of you could consume me like wild salmon on a bed of herd-friendly caviar

Robot féminin

 The female robot
Programmed for the world
doubt in the eyes
groups to be understood

No hard edges
a reality where each had a mission defined
a dogmatic purpose
That made going out of the blurred mess a necessity

The female robot
programmed for the rough edges of the pavement
stuck now in a world where everything is mud
The language of love was badly converted to a computer script

Teenage boys are guillotines obsessed with owning their first car
Female robots fight the three norns with time guided missiles
Resenting being forced to choose between tradition and unknown future progress
embracing the present like a kid being put up for adoption

The predictable robot man
laughable utility, obsessed and enchanted by the obvious, the logical
The robot woman
finding complications outside the very realm of necessity

What is the organic destiny of my subjects
screamed the angelic God
Will they merge with metal and refined carbons
and tragically forget they used to live in caves?

Animating a metal plastic structure with the digital essence of what it is to be woman
Cradling the world knowing it´s eternal pain, precious seconds of  relief, an opiate for the fleshbound rest 

Lineage north of Auckland

 The eternal guest bedroom
Sun and heat waking the slumber of 3 generations
Bathing the bedroom in vintage orange light

Old bunk beds that barely held our mortal bodies
Lost somewhere in the north overheated

Fathers you can open the curtain
as the sun wants to enter

Trends and politicians will die out
But this morning light is eternal
By goodness my grandfather stopped cursing

A simple nightmare

 This giant alligator needs prey
The evil spirit needs your fear
But we don´t always get what we want
and the warty beast with fangs is just as much a victim as you are...

in a simple nightmare

Wheels that move your personal diety

 The wheel inside your head

the wheel inside your death

the wheel that rolls you along

the skeleton of life

color it with flesh

multiply it with sex

Lonliness was written

in crude graffitied letters all up inside that moving tunnel

the one you see the world through

just a traditional brand of acceptable madness

Faces change

obsessions transform

true wisdom is an illusive fox

self knowledge a creek one expects to be a river

It´s trickle offends you

See that divine lifetime in a quarter of a second

one where you will never need or want

the tunnel dizzying us as it rolls

around the months and years

growing weeds in our negligence

and trunks in our fetish

Our temple our sweet perfect diety

speaks to us with the mouth of our purest personal bias

our very own spiritul favoritism shaping the third eye

with extreme prejudice

The attempted inner stare

 The extrovert smiles and touches the outside world

A droid of joy

The inner world is unknown and cloaked in pretty idealogy

contrasts that would damage internal organs

yet with the right label could pass it off as art


The extrovert rubs the surface of the world

as if an interactive crystal ball

Worshipping the present

The redundant future a holiday camp´s abandoned canoe


The dance intensifies

The wheel turns like a thousand heads

to the compulsory beat the synchronized fleet 

of choreographed collective feeling

The pub cover and forced chitter chatter

that masks their musical mistakes

A sip a gulp a taste of the distilled

a droid of joy of trends and appearances

Heating the grill with an attempted inward stare
So outward that the inner image itself is an oven of fear

Love your things

 The negligence


The things we leave and do not touch

Those sons and daughters in cold cribs

The ghosts of things amassing

The value of possessions

Smiles and intended love for the material

The energy inside things

Being awoken by the ghosts of the things...

The world left untouched

Family´s last vacation

 Californian family holiday goodbye
The beach center was all palms and people

All trying to withdrawl style as if it was currency
mother was raving and father was fumbling
doing and saying pure meanings of life

we exited the sunlit building
palms farewelling us
Now we could feel the sense of voyage

the sense of family

we could see Meryl Streep running a red light
and sarcastically predicting our next words

Looking over the coast as if it were a banquet
pondering on whether we could extend the trip
brains onto phones and who to call
then down to hail a taxi
from the yellow dusty beachside stripmall

And along came a blessed indian man joined at the hip to his wife
moles and flesh all exposed
seats for everyone except my trip itself
Wealth declarers had invited us to their mansions
their four square discourses negotiating our consciences

the sense of being bought

Pushed into a solution inside someone elses head

Sunday´s intestines

 Sunday was an uncanny bohemian bush fair
Picking up floor dragons and petting ghost dogs
organizing the whole supernatural mess for monday morning
Halls in shadows, my feelings have got fat veins in those shadows
pulsating across the pale planked wooden floors

Being cut into little pieces by the echoes of laughter
Taking the miracle for granted hoping for something to come after
Herds of people not taking the day to reflect just a blink of relaxing
seemingly distracted by a giggle in the galaxy

Dusty seconds being swept up by overzealous ritual and angst
Sunday ripped her dress as she got up to protest, breaking fangs on midnight
And I was reaching for life like a baby reaches for their mother as if one day would save me
The hours were being crushed down into a ball by the afternoon muted raving
Unions greased with hugs even touch sensitive cave, existence requires a certain amount of love
The seventh day has an abundance of slaves

Fat veins out of the wooden sheds that once made up a school house
Our faces pale and aging as sunday growls 

Sunday was like sushi under a surgeon
Like a russian canoe upended by a disgrunteled sturgeon
the cliff edge dwelling herds all began merging
looking down at the inevitable panorama of tomorrow, stiff and allergic
Sunday was going on as you were distracted, simply a giggle in the galaxy

Flowing out

 she flowed out

ghosts could see her coming

the trees that have always hugged the calm breeze of the small town

The odd one out a small boy who shat on those small town rules not able to perform

She flowed out for company
That bottle of wine flowed out
conversation flowed out and exposed too much
Hidden wounds lost their scabs and stitches all of a sudden
Heart knots tighten and tangle and words poison the muddle

Kingdom lost

 usurpers amass
Kingdoms come to heel
Under new ship´s keels
Kings are felled
Like old oak overgrown in the royal dell

The helmet and fashions slipped away
A new era with new flags and rules
Payment was made and the bribe exposed
Soldiers arrived to make the arrest

Soft tissue hardware

 I worked for six hours on monday, I only saw the classes
Boring study sends him to distraction
Youth doesn´t know the medicine it needs
Bothered by theories of impending doom

Stimulations seems to come out of nowhere
And then dry up leaving the air deprived fish
gasping like covid beds
Screaming young people

In his job he does new thing
at the fornightly meeting
There are people from the system that he´s working on
Targets were not met bugs were found

The human mind a big fat ERP

The dasyatis bayonet

 The pompous are up at it again and we can´t stain them back
juice all apple and pale and by the book without a hack
what empire did you start and forget to finish yet still overestimative?
Can you see Out of the isles as you came sun striking outnumbering the natives
and then you lot come down here to retire and visit your far off relatives

Pale and blonde and full of your allergies inside and out
Is this what it amounts to the war cry shout?
Is this what old Georgie meant, southern royal fans?
Churchill´s dream all stiff and flexing over the new islands?

We´ll build a few hundred  hospices and facilities for the overaged
that can´t stomach the old english metropoles or country cages
Your son woods scared of the wasp, so it made it´s way into his shirt
The shrieks and screams sent the children into hysterical laughter

He ran out of the classroom kicking up a storm as the wasp burned a hole in his uniform
stinging at random like a knife attack on the vicar godfearing
The bough pierced by the unseen reef sailors woefully despairing
Young woods plunged into the dirty colony throwback uncaring

Like a clean fabric into a sewer of filth
Was this an example of stoic churchill fortitude?
union jack still hustling the southern winds 
No different to the sails that changed the sting ray forever

Azza´s son

 Azza´s curiosity once created a world from one that had died
eons from his birth

A forested world abandoned by it´s creators
Large factories bulging and protruding from the bush side
Like borders to the once bustling cities
clustered alleys surrounding long open highways

The forest a patchwork of colors and textures
Easy enough to get lost in
And there he was singular perfectly alone
Not ever knowing companionship

Making his way through the low hanging vines
the carcasses of unidentifiable vehicles that used to move that world
Coming to the base of a densely wooded hill trying to access the buildings above
Entry ways were sealed and all that could be heard was the breeze and ghost echos

Ghost echos of a life not yet had, or one that had passed a millenia ago
The boy changed his eyes and honed in on the paths around the closed overgrown structures
Following them through until he got into the city´s mainstreet
hit with the sooty metallic perfume of the past

Alone in the middle of that monstrous city sensing the way things were
Praying to an absent god, solitude in every second
This rusting decaying infrastructure, the priceless art changing over the years
desintegrating sublimely as the boy spoke in that cities tongue as if to raise the dead

And the boy went about recreating something that had lost it´s essence

Azza his proud father looking on from a semi operational city camera once synchronized to his skull

Mother butterfly

 Anne and the butterfly

Anne found her garden of peace and pond water
plants and trees that were mothers and daughters
soil was life, sun was light, night was a sigh
Everyday pondering the butterfly

How it flows in the air
as if transversing dimensions
Landing and taking off from our attention
A symbol for ascension

My mother in this world

What is this chrysalis
we find ourselves wrapped inside
A transitional stage
between light and dark, between seasons

Anne found the stream
There the timeless eel wanders and wades
winding up the autumn clock
as mother´s day unlocks

For my mother

The wings of this quiet season
of falling leaves and butterflies
memories flickering and testing the mind
Until the chrysalis subsides

Random leisure in a generational desert

 They came their spinning vibrant group curiosity dripping from their chins
Shining youth hit those tables looking for those glasses still half drunken
These spinning vibrant girls and boys extended slender rubber arms to drink them
Longing for permission.............................

But Moses wasn´t at the bar to hear underage sob stories
to kill the youth out of themselves ethanol jolly
No Moses was socializing next door with naturals

Yet the clientele weren´t going anywhere
and they suddenly aged 20 years as if lit by lightnening

Now shouting and walking off demanding beer

They were being standoffish creating their individual life like a magazine store front
In an office near the soot greased subway packed in like dirty crawfish

Your next train is a decade away parade predictible another glass you left half full 
and unattended on that milestone improvised speech stained table
That last sip of booze evapourating like friends as new youth begs to drink what´s left

To see him off one day

 He turned to the car inspired
another journey another gulp of life somewhere

not here

Off in that classic car the wind in his face
his second wheel rolling right next

me outer world looking in half curious

intangible

The Journey required a vehicle
one he was obsessed with

well if I could just fly off without having to follow a road
or even have to ride in a car

Yet his life was in a smile that spread after the names of makes and models
Mine was a constant grin the trembled less often over aging

He didn´t really have a destination but pressured the supporters to let him take off
He sped off that half a liter of blessing took him a few trillion miles

The Wares and tears of James

 For the excentric redheaded boy
it was all about confounding convention
immersing himself in comedy and art
Unknown to others, unique to the curious

Burning into controversy
strange obsessions infecting his mind

moving him forward
forcing him to antagonize the status quo
Passion and emotion bursted him often
emotive and british

At the choir tasting his own voice
bitter in winter creative in spring
contrarian in summer
and the feijoa autumn he got lost inside himself

but celebate, for if you were ever complex enough

to get lost in yourself

You might live your life for a change

Phil the creator

 The live environments jersey woollen and warm for the winter
for the routine check on those fish ponds into the valley
His small shed stacked with fish flakes
electrical cables twisted and tangled up to knee height

A liter of milk and a microwave meal
And back to work on the phone, to the farm, into town
A piece of fruit in the middle compartment
electric windows and the brick cell phone

Each time he checked on those fish it was a just a sip of ginger ale
Each time he pottered around his lil small town factory
it was a gulp of diet pepsi and a few uncertain choices
Few would query in, yet the courier sought a cure to his curiosity

Messy working spaces, busy with ideas, some random, some ordered
and the coffee flowed and the life force glowed
And a timeline formed with its own milestones and crazy twists and turns
Sudden emergencies became a monthy occurence

Thanks to that, life had meaning and the narrative of importance
suddenly had weight on the common folk
Other´s ears seemed hungry for convincing
The franchise was poured into separate glasses
caffeinated and swimming with life

The winter drizzle tries to steal a few more grams of energy
windless summer sweat occupying the furrowed brow
At the helm over the aquarium water
A filter for the coffee, a filter for the aquarium
yet no filter for the Phil who brought the world of waiting observers...

a few moments of joy

 

A panflet life

 Your boring existence sends zero shivers down your spine
the tree fort that was never built faces down to you
bearing down on you with nails sticking out of it´s....
sarcastic grin

You found an idle state of living more favorable
a pot of nothing clasped with both hands the breeze cackles
you look down and ask the world to fill it, a tear falls in
the cool breeze evapourates it to keep it empty for you

Honesty you don´t want to set yourself free so embrace the preference
The dependence on the outside world to satiate you
to ignore your own self, your heart and mind simply existing
Not a moment of reflection, just outer stimuli and stimulation

A colorful game spinning on the external attention and approval
youth into hives divided into their shards of perceptions and false beliefs
protected by a thousand layers of algorithm
Your heads are letterboxes to be filled with panflets

Boredom keeps you inside the software
designing the panflet that will be distributed to a million just like you

Out of the food chain into the blockchain

 Lean gluttons sharpen digital spears
The primevil forest and the farm abandoned
The skeletal remains of the hunter gatherer
now just digital art with oversized emojis

Is the world full of stimuli or is it in our eyes
In our screens and multiservers
What are we fusing with or to
Has evolution duped us or have we duped it

It is this the proverbial forbidden apple
the wastelands beyond Eden
the fateful scorn of an old grumpy creator
Have we downloaded a talking snake

Developed and tooled up
will we auction pieces of ourselves off to the world
acquiring credit in a new currency
A foreign modern version of a self esteem

The shy provincial latecomers, heads held low
Can now purchase enough confidence to update their redundant traditions 

Over blessed gardens

 The gardens of the wooden stakes
rounded landscaped gardens in quaint compartments
leading up to the mountain academy tower
The humble giant shrunk and tended the gardens
as shouts and jeers echoed from the bars of the poor neighborhood below

People go into that garden searching for lost pieces of themselves
The garden absorbs their confusion as if it was nitrogen
Just enough shade to protect the fragile greens from the sun
Wildlife goes in from the nearby forests and becomes stranded 

within the high bamboo fences surrounding the gardens

The tower and its grounds look over the gardens
submerged in silent light reminiscent of a monastery
The cities orphaned boys and girls go there to learn
Climbing the tower of knowledge
Getting a perfect vision of what lies ahead 

A city o

 Dogs and brothers

reaching up to the head of the body

who ever is investigating you

harvesting your secrets

Each direction has a spell

a pinch of each ingredient

an inch of forbidden excitement

Forming a cross of strict austerity

salt and pepper

wealth and poverty

A1 block kids

 A1 and the land toward the dentist

The wooden pickets benched at the top

morning shadows long and intimidating

Somewhere nearby lurks the scrupulous headmaster


Children will just chase each other until exhaustion
simple joys will carry them through the first years
So obsessed with movement and laughter
Slowly losing their spontaneity

The boring rectangular structures 

old dusty carpets inside

Black boards and diagrams for us

creaky wooden floor moaning under running feet 

Youth and priorities

 The lower levels of the department stores were flooded
Sibling entered the glass shop front heartbeat elevated
He found the eclair behind a thin glass case
He took it as would your toothbrush

The golden light reflected over the glass 
lighting up the chocolates and bringing them to life
Yet desire was an imposter and both siblings felt so
That fruit too high, that jewel too expensive 

There the other brother was, two stories above the water
choosing his own treat was just about as exciting as eating it would be
Everything behind the glass conjuring the imagination of taste
Each aisle so idyllic and inviting

The water seemed to rise from within the building
Higher and higher closer to the floor the older brother was on
creating a time limit for his choice of chocolate
There were no more lamingtons available

This upside down hourglass the brother lived in
each grain that fell was a thousand liters of water
swamping the lower levels
Confused by the golden brill, searching for that chocolate

The conscripted noob

 Guns and rust and terrible death squads
the rifle jammed just after you aimed
Your cover has been blown and maimed
as your vest now bends inwards

Winded and distraught you hit the ground
bullets still in the middle of the chorus singing through steel
If there´s something that sits in the base of a gut that still feels
it´s that there´s nothing sweeter than rescue

A stretch convertible

 An inland town quite far from the coast
roads across that land like cords into a body
A tranquil lake reflecting a classic romantic sunny day
Age beside me, her long grey hair unfolding in the air
passing through the convertible

The patches of trees soaked up the dust of the road
as the car kicked down a gear to circle the lake
The hospital stretcher slowly broke the swinging doors
Like the bather on the coarse sand beach entering the water

The glow of the day would tranquilize a meth addict
The slow roll of the car endlessly moving and humming
simulating some meaning in it´s motion over road
A nurse curved over to offer death a little liquid
But death her blessed heart turned around and said
she didn´t believe in redemption

So we kept driving around that lake 
going so far, nowhere as no time passed
My grin seemed to merge with the tarmac lip of the road margin
melting that lip soft in the tangibly warm scintilating sun
beating it into a sweet bulge

Death often asks politely for a sacrifice
Positioning you conveniently next to the storehouse of your soul

Barbara next door

 Barbara there´s a hole in the hedge
there´s a curl too many in your hair
in your accent, Thomas left too early
Were you listening to the screech of the night train
The only noise on the silent landscape
Barbara do you think you could get another dog to feign normalcy
garage past a lost piece of you

Long jackets for june´s brisk walk to town
Do you long for the english way among us the lost
pretending to wear face masks, massage vowels with the natives
Unable to offer the scaffolding for such heavy outrage
A naked demon certainly outshines a million well dressed angels


What has the sappy township reduced you to
smokey cloudy afternoon not cold enough to stoke the fire
Not warm enough to feel comfort in your bones
Gossip bounces up around in there, like a rat high and bent off pink bats
What did they make you into and why would you play their convenient games

You could spend your beautiful life measuring the grass and selecting the perfect day
to cut it 3 centimeters shorter, snug british jacket
Soft cozy house life can only take you so far
Somewhere I strangely long to see you again you lost library
Did you leave us like an orchid shying into itself

Did you leave us like the falling petals of the mad front yard pink magnolia
Your strange expression echoing off into the valley air
A piece of us, a piece of you
a wedge the size of an ocean left to wonder
who was this next door

Oily crow feathers

 Where are you out here, where nothing breathes?
Could I offer you an empty promise illuminated
Just fly on smoothly down to it, fly around me
empty cage rusty handsome ruthless and lonesome
out here where the universe forgot to breathe

So let me usher you in the door, this windless day
call you in randomly from outside, where even the clouds hold tight
not drop not a spec for you, cut into the murder
wings must evolve on you, a few trillion heartbeats and some ice
smoothly off the transparent freeze into the vibrating liquid
and you are now born

Let me grease those lungs your future trail
you may just slip headfirst and slide the rest of the way into yourself
empty and prosperous eye for a mirror
a screen shot of yourself for yourself reassurance in supplement form
rusty handsome and ruthless, lonesome on the musty wind

Carried far from the organized space
the alter and simulated space of perfect ritual
where you all worship a lie with words dressed in truths
wearing tunics and gas mask makeup on the plastic dripping off
crow feathers in a universe that forgot to breathe

This planet, your box

 From what square warehouse do you call down from?
Fringe bouncing in the autumn easterly
Some kind heart put wheels on you
your edging forward thank the world for slopes

Which links were welded around you
knowledge close to the heart
Never unboxed
to the grave if necessary

Protocol absorbed
the rest of you grows around it
permission stamped signed and plugged in
the tunnel so narrow friction builds on your arms

The world is a block
the criminals sculpt it 
shamelessly
while you fuss out defects in their technique

Wooden floors and penthouse lofts
familiar chorus and prescription artesanal beer
There´s no lego coding for the death cough
The virus threaded into black and white uniforms

Experience should be given a respectable ph
instead it´s as acid as a small green squarish vomit chunk

Landslide´s vigorous efreet

Sleeping between two work benches down in the dust
The big empty workshop vibrating through cloud and thunder
Expecting the creature to continue it´s slumber
Versed in complex trickery now awake and invisible
Every impulse provokes it forward around the crucibles
Neither destruction nor construction satisfies it

Has anti- satisfaction killed every luminary love

They got you there

 I put them on
those old boots soon
maroon and weathered
age veins into wrinkles

For puddles and hikes
Laced up for impact and rain
protection in any terrain
Rubber sole bitten and worn

They tell a story of tracks
paths you took rough and dangerous
through forests across perilous ranges
Those old boots got you there

Now they look worse for wear
almost ready to get the boot
I like the way they feel down there
I think I´ll hold onto them

 one more year

Aiming from the same rifle

 she graces my day
hones my inner rays
Moves me from delayed
Keeps me closer to hooray
Than naysay

Tis the lady who halfs my life with me
shares the trifles, aims from the same rifle
cuts with the same knife as me
She ripens with me on the same tree
roots different yet intertwined

Roads were blurred and muddled at their junctions
There was no guardian angel to say i could start building my own
And there she was stones, gravel and sand to aid me
Our thoughts build that road through high hills
but they keep pounding and paving and toward a better life
aiming

I was often taken astray whims and vices a million
Imagine the price of wandering asunder
How I let them steal my thunder
and still be deaf and blind to a girl handing me lightning
A wife who aims from the same rifle seeks out the same prey

This rhyme a simple homage to her thirty eighth birthday 

A grateful giraffe

 This life a huggable giraffe
Each patch a wonderful lake to wallow in
waterslide into and feel each tethered hair
each flickering second

Some canopy you want to be able to see over
sunset there for the romantic
who deeply long for the future
singing in their own minds about tomorrow

Above the earth just far enough
to have a closer relationship with the sky
A mouth that can chew barbs
And offspring that just pops out walking

This life seems to be one of these heavenly giraffes
One of nature´s beautiful mistakes
galloping the savannah all dry and awkward
Above everything else, huggable and elegant

Questions raised by the faculty

Vocation in some strange dimension
The university was full
Courses awaiting us
long avenues that dip down then up for 3 kilometers
so you can see the rise in the future

conformity to impulse
This university town was eternally dusk
The sky a constant dim shade of blue late teenage autumn
students bickered in their lengthy disordely queues
waiting to get into the cafetaria

Time never existed here
Couples were making out behind the buildings
in the long grass and beside the regal gardens
As if by sixth sense making their way to town
Where they would seek distraction from study

The need for stimulation and excess
They converted the morgue and funeral center next door 
into a boutique entertainment center
The lucid mind agonizes over the old stately facade around it
like aged outer skin holding in some kind of youth

Evidence of interference
From the other side of the road I quietly witness
A pink balloon being ushered by a cool early evening wind
Eerily bouncing mid air like a freshman in front of the structure
Like an uninvited memory hovering over the fragile
Death hidden by lights and euphoria

 

Eastern pass

 The egg is empty
The wrapper is shiny
the gospel wails
Hollow joy

Chocolate crucifixion
I lick my lips
A bouncing bishop
a long eared priest

Maybe we can hunt down those sweets
Locating them in the olive groves
interrupting their prayers
Peter Rabbit wont deny us

Stricken

 Pale and offended
conservative and expecting the worst
The weather forecast is for acid rain
A ray of light, a hope still there.

Extremists quaint dream
Obligated into the dream
A foetus forced back into the womb
The sharpened blades of being groomed

Oppressive speeches
each word a worm on the sharpened point
of the dull glinting hook
Down in the darker clouded sea trenches of the mind

Cook me up a flavorless... (lack of a noun)

 Mediocre soup sounds great for dinner tonight love
could you make me a cup, perhaps spill a drop over the stove surface
have it dry and crust into something carcenagenic
My own fastidiousness irritating the soul from the body
A vibrational fart reverberation

A nice piece of normal fried on each side
for a tasteless minute seems to get my tastebuds hard
Dirty mustard imposing it´s outlandish tang upon there
The mouth recoiling but going back in for a nibble quite bipolar

Give me a slice of that grey conventional that everybody´s raving about
May it rot my teeth and taint my beliefs in silence
leach my genius and the sincerity out of me
leave me statue motionless ambitionless, maleable to the smooth fingers of apathy

Office in the afterlife

 Heaven is an office you have everything there
calculator and conclusions ready to move the meeting
Comfortable seat eternal sitting position
a strategy formed like a miracle

You can choose any writing utensil the mind could imagine
As if there was never an ending to your life meeting
the new state of your post death position
Still working like a miracle

behind that desk a new franchise to open
Organizing all of the middle managing self importants for the meeting
Each one piping up their uncouth opinionated positions
How they ever agreed was a miracle 

Worry a little

 Is there always something wrong
My answer is yes
A reason to panic and a reason to stress

The brain lights up as if on fire
what concerns are driving it so
What stone must you throw
just to get the moment

Isn´t there always something wrong?
Well your instincts tell you so
Pain is the soil in which success grows
Yet your mind searches high and low for a bad omen

This poem isn´t working out
I want my words back
A creativity refund
Why these words have no right to be printed nor read continually as I worry about some far off irrelevant and harmless little detail that has transformed a pin into a sword

Covid cardigan

 You smeared that covid over your pull malls
Your cardigans are knitted with the strain
You go out to lick the walls of the supermarket
The virus wraps itself around your voicebox

Covid inhale covid exhale
Covet and be a fan of that infection
breath in, in that direction
Nurses cough and contaminated curtains

vomitting blood as the lungs just worsen
Meet friends at the bar, beach or park
break in illegal trigger the disease in them
We were born to be hospital creatures.

A proud indulger(Keiner stirbt allein)

 The official party for funloving indulgers
their perfect seasons and perfect gardens
Big cheesy agreeing parties
Thanks for giving the world beer

North of the alps your ponds shine like your eyes
The plesiosaur chainsaw in your souls blunt yet?
Did they mix your soups and salads with enough
bigos and kisir?

Those alleys are now euphoric
Rules and specifications all left at home
And new abstract social protocol are threaded within your scarves
and so strangle your values

Big groups of hysterical middle aged women and men
blond cheese walking into takeaway stalls and beer shelters
night and autumn close on you simultaneously
Neon signs and festive music, carried away now aren´t you my child

And then your hands go to the bright sky
No one is alone
As I train my rifle on your family
separating husbands and wives

And then your hands go to heaven
as bullets fly through you
More clapping and indulging
die together so....
No one is alone

The lost highway south

 South town jews as armagaeddon ensues
Just a stone´s throw from the bridge
Almost like outcasts not quite in
Not quite part, yet better off

Their secrets never known
their own influence deep and lasting
Ignored by the many
And blamed for more than most

Somewhere on the other side of fire hill
Well hidden in the woods was their synogogue
their eyes are open, as ours are shut with gossip and comfort
They could see the broad body of the apocalypse

While the village fussed with their hobbies and bias
special shopping experiences, proud working class agreed poverty
Small minds and boutique sweet nothings, extras for soap operas
Unemployed gossip tea sippers, crumbs for saucers

As the end of the world ensues

Water under the bridge

 Nothing relieves like a humid toilet
door showing first sign bit of rot
the leak from the base dripping out
spreading out into a constant shaded patch

Turn the lock and lean back like in a nest
ready to rid yourself of that last meal mess
The stone floor reverberates with the request
To occupy

Knee jerk reactions
The last squeeze to accomodate
Yet what length will serve to clean the mud?
How many folds must it have for the smudge?

You sit and plot what you will do and say
for remaining hours of the rest of the day
Not too thick nor thin when deluge is rushing 
Yet it´s all water under the bridge after flushing

The echo of ego

 There´s an echo in this room
My voice bounces back to me
hitting on the wall
It´s a conversation
A void, an attempt at exchange

My words pour out 
across the wooden floor
strings to the ceiling
can I admire my own voice
As it kicks about as noise

I could do with an ear
Not attached to me
but another human being
to capture a gram of my sense
To taste it as oddity yet soon after as commodity

Yet I am here revising my utterances
as they converge returning to my own ears
A boiling soup of my own concoction
splattering up and falling right back into itself
Yet I must flavor it all so that mouth could be ear
and I could be heard

Career plans for fiends

 Saint andrew heights
High hills with terraces
each one for a person
their sense of wealth

Driven down to the swamps
to the schools and abandoned streets
not far from the perimetral
Timeless lost absent crescents of streets
fickle as labrynths

Fickle as moss concrete brick stairs
As the drug dealer threw little sachets of narcotics
landing in sandwiches, half opened mouths and newspapers open
Riding his pseudo-neo futuristic segway
A ceo in his own underpants

The cops watched from their shaded car windows
drizzle humidifying everything
Instead of arresting the miscreant they tipped their hats to him
Productivity was high at the office that day

Hobo James

 They hugged the corner of the food stamp cafe
where we could get beans for pocket change
Comparing our woes and our lacks
Staring at each other´s eyes
begging and provoking sympathy
The cook´s distrust a stronger taste 
than sache salt

The street sunlit and discolored
neediness attracted us like flies
A certain amount of our selfish lives
and those whopping failures swimming between
Now we beg and watch for wallets
Fussing for curb space

Low social hierarchy astroturf

 The group celebrated as the cool ones
far and distant from me
Always in the next room with new fun
many meters from me

The astroturf was for all of us
equality and sharing
But the cool ones were ahead
exclusive branch to their popularity

The cheap toys the observers bought us, large yet never enough
What I would trade from my meager pouch of transactional love
To share the kind of space that those big brother candidates did
Body language, tone and sentiment second nature kids

And here I sit ever the rejected child alone on this false green grass
as the others eat treats and hear of how their future feats will pass
I was hungrier than them, left with a full bag of candy self pity on my seat
I could smell it, that overwhelming scent but I couldn´t bring myself to ever eat

Big brother astro-turfers
those skateboarding, rollerblading, kite surfers
Paired up with their social system mate
while I flailed outside their program, pretending life was great

Social mobility from an Imaginary yacht

 The boat trip was going to be a special moment
shore side focus evesdropping as we boarded those launches
Wind disagreeing with ambition dressed in poverty
And off we went to some other shore
as if we achieved a higher feeling of family

Rocking boat his face as fresh as yesterday
Can you transition from tool to personality
From interest to care to some semblence of love
over the waves always late 
sand has the same flavor as the grains we ate

The boat trip family excitement
Wind pushing back, mother panic
The surf shoving and frowning
what could possibly quell
the fear of drowning

They gave us the polish, towels and pales
to smear upon millionaire´s panels
of their fine yachts, their holy grails
For we couldn´t sail
It was never about who you were, but what you got

My chest beats the sea

 Is my heart hooked to the land
where the grass is short, hills are steep
not for the weather but the mindless sheep
trashy poplars brag in the wind
cul de sac bullies lurking on the corner

Is my heart buried like a treasure chest
under the patch of bush that hides the river from the road
roots as my veins blood in the rain flows
the soil my food in my mouth and nose

The taste of hills and mountains so near
Alas I dwell thousands of miles from here
a reality that I chose away from the known
The boring close I´d rather it on my own

A rule I broke, parting from the crowd
a rule that kept me under that long cloud
when all I wanted from the world was the sun

an angle that could warm me from the cold alone
with my heart in my chest in my home
Abroad, foreign to you, other side of the sea foam

In a lifetime

 Destiny´s laughing fork
fate´s knife

One tine you will cling to
the long steel decades
Until the twilight seagull sings

That deep long blue dusk
the afternoon of your life
manipulating our sense of distance
tree tops absorbing those last rays

Destiny´s driveway
Hopeful footsteps scrunch stones
patchwork noise rebounding off hedges and fences
closing in on the mansion

The career figment of her art

 He was in her painting
firey tongue, firey hair

In the darkness of an unknown kitchen
checkerboard life
brushstrokes that captured 
various chapters of his life

Eyes that accept fate
Apathetic pigment
Life´s engine fueled
Human topiary

A bengal stick
tickles the black and white squares
Power across the board
salivating afore the life tree

coveting the hills and the slit moon
and every inch of space off earth

The glory of the soldier conform

 Part of your heart was sewn infact with a patch of a uniform that betrays
They knew they could count on you to stoke the furnace
As the ash slowly slips down from my rounded cracked skull on the floor
Tracing the emblem you stitched onto me,
 a piece of god burning at the base of an industrial chimney

the grain shines out of that rifle proud tool man
Maybe one day the lines that move you and cut you
will run you off this page on your very behalf
as Your arms and legs form a crucifix Just a badge on an epitaph

Smouldering along the death camp road´s barbed wire logs
smouldering into the bloodstained nostrils of the guard dogs
March to hell, every demon to accompany you
March into hell let me confetti your path right
filthy corpses strung up to the street light

Your victory is the deafening and eternal screech of a curse
Your honour is for the landfill
your glory is a legacy of broken children
cannonfodder waiting for the secret contract
frizzled carcass remains stacked to the back of the barracks
Pile them up my servant of pride, serve me destruction
in souless mindless mouthful strides

Pawn of the simple brain wash, society bias fluid bag
Rushing through the shrapnel, leaking out wet evil
courage leaves you for a better soldier
I need you to rot soon in your righteous pit
Just another grave with your name on it

Close to the soap

 The hospital beacon blinding me
shopping mall manic
fixtures stucco´d up night club ready
bounce like a buoy on the sea
The need to feed us mystery between the makeup

what comic god conditioned this
Boxes of useful and hear the salary
the number and recognition
purpose and path through toward important

chin tapering downward the upside down teardrop
cameras somewhere near like cleaning rags
for those hundred smooth surfaces
in which the fish look out of
instincts like a swim bladder

Make that flight turn up the heat
life´s need for a clown, a villian and a muse
which one confused itself with you
mirror blade to seperate yourself
the noise trails like a jetstream

Temple of the high society
pull a hook down
images to glue onto tomorrow
someone knows your name

Originally from Eure

 used to tease the garden
champagne whims it was
between rungs in a ladder
eyes flutter gumboots mutter

seasons freeze in that valley
crisp and awkward
sweet eyes
between tines in a fork, half a small forest, a bible beard and a teenage shudder

found a way away from the rust 
any trace of untapped gold dust
popsickle longing
eelspear prongs

 seduce the world
down near the river, the drive into nowhere, provincial

Somewhere something had to be seasoned  
with a nice tad of fame
Just foreign enough to give a man a reason
not to look the same
Spurn a new fad as it goes and hopes it came
That hits it home, father´s brimstone christian shame

work ethic hands, interrogator mouth
play twice the fad game
trends, goss and wealth
Misfitting those younger years
peering out from six eyes and three sisters

At 22

 That factory for wet plants
ambitious midlifers
and a man slow to mature
sleeping in the present

sun knocked against the entrance driveway
Trucks rolled in and emptied
our bodies too
april was an eternity

The river where I took it from
washed some of my sins away
the rest stained me above my skin
and the locals could smell it presently

I was lost against those volcanic rocks
one of those days I died or killed
or blended into heavy layers
of cold hard frustration

The water clear those long leaves as hair
water ways haunting each minute in sleep

You need doing, well done

 I drove the cannon to the front of your life
Grin the size of the frontline
beaming like they were opening fire
I could see far over your head as you got lost amidst the death and chaos

My arm a rigid rifle
loaded just a finger twitch away
curse whom granted the power
Fire bulge
Wet an appetite on high rises
On a metropole to indulge

born for the modern mind of war
these killers planned for today
Last night I ate a spicy next decade
wasps and hornets in the way
I punish the complacent
all they do is call me arrogant

Dance upon the mushroom cloud
farewelling a city that once was
Beliefs in heads that were
With a hot pair I just make a clean sweep
Onto the next helping

grin digging into the earth kicking it up
torn and aflame steaming and smoking turf
desintegrating it from the roots
as it´s hurled into the distance
Can you see my teeth stained from chewing on a
 medium rear civilization

Rusted cable linked to a social network

 Thin cruel
had a muddy muddy path through life
the road always turned into a whiskey den
the world always revolved around coma weekends

working, drinking and posting predictable treats and tweets

Thin cruel knees
crawling up through the creek
negotiating out of a stripped car
A skeleton existence and end

The carcass graffiti was the emojis that most trended

Thin cruel knees bent
and grazed against those riverside rocks
jutting up like teeth firm and locked
stained yellow at their base and braced by wire

Big gains dressed up in futuristic attire

I wanted the cake crumbs not these poxy pixels

Use these teeth to bite through the cable like a hacksaw

The whole eye moist and anticipating
eyelids crack open, mind waiting
To catch a ray of dusk
crawling in the dark since birth

A power plant below earth

A comedy for angels

 You can be whatever you want in this great night sky
we got a bunch of strong euphoria clustered up there
Witness us as we tease the dreams out of you
sugarlike and suave yes slapped by steel

the steel they lift in their gym routines
repetitions to the beat, flexing that meat
like they were centerpiece photography
Like their lives depended on that choreography 

Admire the success at all costs
that morphs into philanthropy
What a lofty lil chameleon
A thousand teachers each one swallowed into your ego blackhole

The proverbial house on the hill
dust and crumbled cement on the floor
Every bad habit fixed into hidden corners
widening spouses grin

tonnes of dirty clothes being loaded in with a truck
key lifestyle baggage stamped by superficial neighbors
your desires sitting around the corner of that huge house
playing marbles with each other amused by your ambition

The care taker handed me the hose
like a death notice
I washed everything down reluctantly
Just a cheap actor, in a comedy for angels

Renegotiating the employment contract

 Bring in the grains
and open a circle in the desert
mystical string
Open a hole in the universe

Invite us to slide right into it
with starburst supernovas
Golden flowing mist
all disappearing in the blink of an eye

Work is love
And love is the cosmos itself

You were the new hire
they relocated
from stolen car find the new premises
They have conspired to exploit

Reluctant you almost bail
But fold as they apply that lucky lotion
To smooth over the rough edges
of your busted ego

Ohnemuse ambitious

 I am not what I was
I´ve acquired a new limb or two
A powerful brainwash
My smile is out of shape
watch me blush

I acquired hush
titles stamps and cash
Waiting for the boom brush
The bull rush, the crown
The unrequited flirt

That automatic frown
Wait for the hurt
to pass and blend down
into some solid truth
we can chew on for years after

I am the admirer, the king hiver
The high fiver of the ring wraith riders
ambitions multiversed demons tamed 
by the destiny worshipping swamp tiger
my whiskers on fire

No prayer or awareness denied

Morning errand of the court

 The regal garden bed
invited like a foreign dignitary
To the grins and outrageous provocations
Of some time sensitive royal dame

The humid heat of the morning
is going up against prohibition
To mow the field short of midday, obedient and robust
manifestation of sexual play inspired by early lust

Maybe a quaint conspiracy in jest
Just for a gram of grace and quip to test or possibly
half a chuckle or an ounce of glee
A few tonnes of misplaced love from a misplaced me

There just to fertilize the flowering beds
at an appropriate hour, that morning itself said
What pokes out from the human nestle of flesh
In the form of lava like spirit wanting to consume dawn

3am flare

 Spiritual flattery
Yet I come up lacking
Blessed are those who see and bathe
in the glow of godlike otherworldly messages

Looking at the portrait of my life
pointing out the spaces
Maybe they are never to be filled
Like a pet I am to eat spammy existence

You wake me like I have some lesson to learn
And here I am wide awake 
I plead, I appeal and I meditate
The humming of my life low and unwavering

I ask those special questions
so out of the silence will come some incredible sign
a torch or flare or metaphor aware
yet I guess I need more wrinkles

To interpet the 3am spiritual flare

A lesson you don´t want to learn

 To learn the language of sun
To remove the heart from the body
To learn euphoria not from stimuli

but from dawn´s merciless epiphanies

To watch the child as a seedling
Grow into a role and a labyrinth of emotions
To know your body as a sleeping bag surface shell

but not be able to grip that which you are, in spirit factor

If comfort was a concrete box
Surely I would furnish one for you
You, the one who seeks straight answers in a crooked world
One who burns the boardgame of life with the friction of too many rules

Yet still unable to turn your face away from the nonsensical chaos

To learn the percussion of the rain
virile and fluid, a wash, a flood, a watery stain
To welcome the storm, abundance and destruction´s unruly child
who wrecks the land if unadopted

Yet it´s not a lesson you´d sit down to

The essence of this life too hidden, too concealed under your bias
your conditioning, your wardrobe is common error
your clothes a chinese whisper that was never ripped nor stained
and retained even the same tone

The tone of an echo in a concrete box
Finely crafted out of the fear of loss 
and surplus debris overused gossip
mixed into desperate brands that cement impulsive anxiety

And marketed as the noble western cowboy
wandering into the sunset   

The afterlife old son

 My father out nowhere
The one who taught me
My father gone
I see you

I cannot free you
You must free yourself
You are not alive
Yet the story hasn´t died

Nowhere you are
I don´t know
skull on wood
ground closing in

Above earth somewhere
I cannot free you
Once upon your health
Once upon your life

The blessing that you read into
A keepsake in forgiveness
binds you to the light, old son
follow it to the new one

I´ll see you there 
like you saw me here
the earth but a sandcastle
eternity of existance a day at the beach

Or maybe I will be the vigorous annual
never to wooden
with mere admiration and pigeon speak
to greet you with pa.

To heaven, God murmured

 He was a tree, a plant, a blade of grass
until that no longer served existance
He was a speech, a phrase, a word
until silence invaded the living noise

His soul light blue hovering over the sloped clay bank
rocky and uneven and all grey light brown
tinged by the land´s own weeds and dry brown patches
All stained by the late morning´s predictable high cloud

Slightly darker still below the cattle scarred hills
the tall overhanging valley evergreens shading the edge of the river
restless soul shaking it´s ghost leg and scrambling over the stones
Dying to be part of the river, to know it´s flow

So that he could be a drop, a liter, a pond´s expanse
Until there was little difference between him and the earth and the air

To each their paradise

 Born to sit at the dinner table
Bathing in the t.v light
Attempts at asking about the day
Overcast by puns and jeers

suddenly the stationwagon backseat
giggling uncontrolably
nauseating hours
only stopping to refill

The stations lights
glowing through the drizzle drops
anticipation accumulates
stale diesel lingers though

Each one of us dreams
and longs to stand into that dream
being the lead role
the person inside the costume

anxious excitement as the doors almost fall off
three children sprint toward the lodge
here was our sacred ground our paradise
despite the sulpher in the air 

Colonial decadence

 The guards were condemned
their curiosity died years before
rule and conformity attached to their legs
the gang of thieves and rebels surprised them

Blood on the parade ground
The last death fart one of honour
If you want to love abundance
you better own it with both hands

Nobility feasts on itself
exploiting each Morsel as it pecks
until the knife reaches the jugular
So it may taste it´s neck 

The governor squeezed into pants
And the king choked at the banquet
what we heartily deserve in life
Is only what we can be grateful for

For what you cannot have ownership of
You will never truly have it

The orphan at reception

 The lines of the orphan dug into the magazine
Blue bic pen ripping crinkling lines 
besmirching the page
marking countless others as the underlayers also tear.

Teeth bear and curiosity mixes into boredom
a fine layer of anxious sweat runs from the pulse to the fingers
smudging the blue bic pen ingraved lines
Cooling off the frantic skin of the five year old orphan

A subtle bell sound rings out in his mind
drawing him close into a rhyme he repeated in school
As the tip of the pen ran through the paper mercilessly
He rehearsed the rhyme in a cheery yet low voice

Alone
parentless
one single cloud shrinking
in a flawless overbearing blue sky

The outer field of your digital awareness

 Listening in
words were inspired into meaning
Tone of voice was being adjusted
like a weight being lifted

Inside a man is the desire to impress
To influence and attract
to bring eyes onto us
from those we have observed already

On the rocky edges of the successive meetings
eyes and ears locked tightly
euphoria spilled over the speaker from his own ego
Not quite self love

On the outer field where my antennas should be
Something encroaches
Inside a man´s inner most desire
Inside the well decorated apartment of his human heart

Listening in
There was a nod 
and a subtle sign of having understood
the well rehearsed, well sculptured metaphor

getting herself ready for the inevitable applause
The murmur of approval awoken and wriggling around wormlike
And they applauded
as half the world boo´d

Cynical and lovable oblivious to their chicken coops
They deny me even a word
You here on the page with me now
Curious for the next line and how my words will curl into

some obscure insight
on the outer layer of your threaded digital carpet

Burial

 The sandy desert like burial site
pines surround
The distorted pings and moans 
of dire straights and pink floyd

The hurse came rambling to a halt there
Out came the family coffin bearers

trudging toward the grave entrance
God whistling in the trees
That one my father forgot in the rush
remembered in the last moments hush

And invited to walk with him
the humble soul he was and forever yonder shall be

The earth his nightgown
innocence and naivety childhood friends

semblences of Illumination
accompanying him into the ground


I´ll say some words

tears hit sunbit sand

I´ll never see that man

again