Courage decays

 Skeleton remains of courage
Beard and teeth pirates peak
riot speaks
wealth reheats

The bones have become grey
they stain themselves in the sun
They play autumn leaves
the trauma of life a few burning fists

Hitting our faces by the old bones
we use to speak with a lot
Out on the balcony of life
what kind of grip have your fingers got

That beard burning with all the cloud and pollution
that the megalopolis can pump in it´s fires
This need to know the box of wires
weve come to know and love

On the balcony rail more than ten stories up
Somekind of blessing some bravery
boldness
Automatic pleasure and validation

White freckled hands brace the steering wheel
of something youd want to be caught driving
Something these mass voyeurs could pop a pimple over
Some golden fleece elite imported
 
The deep deserve that poverty never recites
Never knows, cannot write of
And in its confusion denies
From its plate, its mouth what it´s brain implies

The skeletal remains of that old courage
An empty bottle in a gargled rant of a garage
Threaten to abandon the soft pig of heaven we all pitched in for
soft mud for these old bones to sink into

The exclusive tomb, the shade of the sun will
The slurping sound of heaven´s own love tunnel
Kicking up tentacles that pull you in
and you were worth loving in virtue and sin

The dollars collected across the well paid years
Running up the side of a told you so mansion
The sneak of the money grin the courage of the calcium

The balls on the son of a noble someone
The aging wilting stages summed
The ills and ales of the undying painting
The butler´s secret untold and debilitating

And the grave came dropping down out of a two piece drone
Crashing into our satin chapped laps a scream and a moan
flecks of dirt and worm and the shape of some old leather skin
Like unreadable pages of pillaged cavern scripture

All those remains of courage
waiting to be relocated under a concrete cross
With some sense of class nostalgia and righteousness
and maybe a not so stately windbeaten cypress

And the first wrinkles spread upon the face
Greeting us more merrily than youth ever could
Fingernails digging into the edge of the building
scratching as muscle gives way

Age wear and tear, joints grumpy 
Those bones still seem to crumble
Everytime we pick them up to save them
placing them back into that grave then

That second hand cash register
The mysteries of the world inside there
Hidden between the digits white and grey
And under the checks in the funeral tray

The lost treasure that the faithful ambitious
have yet to dig up for their brag zone
half a map and a rusted compass
A bag of brave bones just looking for a home

Yeni Kader

The countryside grows bleak with war and refugees
tribes from the plains graze like brazen bison on parade
One stands afront Damascus in his hand
sharp and bloodstained worshipping the wolf

His language written for the herd
the canine predator´s cry
Nature of birth and murder
Treachery and alliance

On the edge of akdeniz stocky frilly and well laiden

Castles and grandez all the forts, lords and maidens
echos of the cathedral chambers chants and hymns
 The kilij runs across the byzantine throat
coins fall out like blood

Deep corruption hidden deep within the tunic
The purge coming from the steppe fiend
No wall or rock structure a haven
The horse and bow the wolf and raven

Eastern rome a ruin
The nomad battle hardy 
The crusader lost and heavy
Fears the fall more than hell

The unruly tribe consumes the souls
of a few die hard siege stubborn keepers
Fire and the blade a few courageous words about god
As the pious arrogant head is separated from shoulders

Between two seas a new god is painted
cruel empires are smashed and decimated
Centuries grow teeth
Empty land grows warriors

Relations dried up

 The grass accumulates
Young brothers roll down the hill
Islands in the sea
Hay like money

Hay like hair concealing the brow
Hinting youthful
Discussing morality
Infant parade

Tennis courts of illwill
foreign language in discord
The dry clay of it all
browny yellow sunlight hitting it cracking it up

Making fun of the ants
while giants fumble

Hay ready to catch 
Like kindling eager
Our words aswell
Full of fire and threat

Null concrete honour
putrid remains of pride
Pumping the flames
Allowing us to separate

Never to see each other again
Like you were nothing more than a bedroom wall
Invisible brother

Industrial acre

 Their factory

The soul of the business
Convince these simple people
To tie their lives
To these offices and machines

 Their mission

In the glare
In the dull
The days pass cheerily
Machinery clanks, gossip winks

Eli the unapologetic

 Elijah Sorry
One helicopter nightmare spinning into your shock
the punishing blastzone no survivors
the infernal wave of arsenal
roasting the face of the earth

The mysterious lord
darkness of the land
The uncertainty and violence 
Through the division he stands alone
Cutting 1 or 2 with his blade

Leveling a city with his firepower
Then gone untraceable
Unrecognisable
As if he Elijah was never there

The secrets he weaved
between the gullible warriors
He the weapon
Primed to ignite
blinking into a countdown
appetite a gattling gun

Rolling off the corpses
A beast of the unforeseen

Land Air Sea and hellfire

 Canadian cities blaze into the winter afternoon darkness
The eagles claw clings to the throat of the nation
Like a gymnast on the asymetric bars curving her way
to positioning guns on the unburnt districts

Usurping and slurping that oil and ammunition
Airborne burning out the rebels
The underprepared factions attempting to unite
Schemes of the hellfire council

The snowed in valleys melting under the heat
30 different bomb designs
each finding a destiny somewhere close to our borough
The splitting explosions murdering the street poor where they stood

No safety under the war of that crazy eagle
His Land Air Sea policy
His Hellfire commanders
Driving our faction under ground

The hide of the book cover

 That tiger cheek
The face of things leather like
huddling over pages
judging a book

By it´s discovery
of what´s under your skin
whats at the root of you
where the truth resides
In what form it looms and pranks

The tiger cheeked man face worn
The book half written well told
Still quite empty between the leather
desire and habit dispute the very purpose
The man between lines handcuffed by both

The book´s thick cover
pressed with howling and laughter
squeezed together with screams and bellows
bound with shouting and confusion
The stripes of that tiger
 peeled off and weathered
slapped onto your little story
extended with ticklish details
hitting your hunger pangs and humongous boredom 

A curious deity

 If you could cry a train
and call awry
from the carriage phone
to claim it was hijacked by outburst

If you could smile a bus
And laugh a lorry
would you spill the contents
People and material all over your joy

would life have no meaning
if you simply plugged in
Living the hospital bed reprieve
Fascinated by the monitors
Those myths of aliens and Adam and Eve

Would you pull us out of our plugs
Send us to the light throwing us out of
the screen abundant caves
to experience the daylight fear in our eyes

If you could express yourself as a human
Would you smirk the trade
Or crawl the infrastructure
As if looking for a purpose

While most of us are chemically lacklustre
Hoping for that one great conquest
Would you balance a cloud down to trophy us
Despite the fact that we
Haven´t really evolved much past the chimpanzee