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