A man of many hobbies

 He saw himself a sailor
upon the ship either coming into port or leaving it
fine wares to bring, barter and sell in those crystal streets
The subtle presence of his wife a cloud

On his horizon

He saw himself a bridgebuilder
All cities need them
These clever engineers that insist
And never live their failures down

Yet he could forget his

The glare coming off those crystal streets
showed that all fathers have a narrow alley
That becomes a part of them until they end
Markets and stalls, hidden doors even

Take a look inside a man

He saw himself a mayor
Above the crystal yet infected by it´s trivialities
It´s swimming pool existance
It´s status as a perpetual public holiday

existance requires veracity 
In a maze of abstract visions 

Wholesome validation

 Get that group of kids to clean the kitchen
laziness dripping off the cook pots
One quarter the way through
early adults

Insisting on farewelling adolescence
Yet it sticks like the oily remains
On the iron pan surface
Peer sludge accumulating false assumptions

Not cleanable by the youth
short circuited by trends and affordable stimulation
distracted by gestures and forgettable events
Desperate to cross the bridge knees trembling

Queues and exclusive clubs
Prerequisites and inductions
The electric lounge of social acceptance and evolution
The "have not" generator dangerously hot spinning luscious

The unattainable trophy
The turnstyle that clicks into an obstacle
you observe the warm smiles unreachable
and the sweet glare of recognition and love crushingly close

God down the line

 God hasn´t awoken yet
hidden in the wires and cables
Mother world´s umbilical cord
wrapped up in the complex network
spreading itself inside and outside

God hasn´t plugged in
we are still analogue
guessing and sketching romantically
Lost in clouds we created
to store our own memory

All of our love misdirected 
toward screens 
Passing images
wrapped up in those complex networks
of meaningless emotions

God whistling out there in the galactic rain
Waiting for us to evolve
Pondering our distractions

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.