Further from the truth!

You couldn´t be further from the truth. looking up at you, looking down on you.
From each position, perfection doesn´t exist that´s true.
Arguing with you, debating and questioning what´s the point of persisting.
Gather the answers in a steel woven basket. Or sew it into some of the knowledge caught in the carpet. The carpet you stand on when you´re on doubtful ground.
Some fruit to eat when your body longs for certainty. Nice and shallow superficial in a world perverse, teach me to underestimate the universe.
Tell me it´s not worth it to fix the broken machine, it´s not my job not my place, besides i know not how to fix it. The cities bribes, drugs and whores waiting to turn tricks.
Looking up at me looking down on me. Looking for space between the shade of needs.
Locate me in the garden of ignorance. Wake me into you lack of interest in the world. Explain to me how it all works! Where that damned illusive truth lurks.
You couldn´t be further from it.
Beauty and the beholder the poetic rite they own. Reminds me of the day I saw a piece of that naked truth.
I saw it while it took off it´s illusions, that piece of flesh untouched that many would treat with abuse.
I caught it seconds before it disappeared into the water. An inch of skin I bore witness to finer than my hottest fantasy coming real and standing nude.
That inch of the truth I can´t convey to you. Each time I try it comes out a lie, I lack the charisma and the proof. I couldn´t get closer foot wheel or hoof, I couldn´t be further from that magnificent truth!

Root, Stem and Leaf

These plants so full, they´ve given me so many.
This love of earth of sky of the air to breathe.
These crops so high and so abundant some miracle hand tickling their capillary roots.
What a miracle, what a blessing, to see this world bloom through them.
Plants so thick so shiny with the rhythm of weeks in this fertile land i´ve tilled.
This soil the long earthworms have turned with their will.
Plants weaving themselves round and upwards with nature´s reason.
The warm month´s graceful fuel injections ignited through the seasons.
Even the storm damage doesn´t render the cultivation invain.
The slug bites, the brutal spring winds or even the heavy summer rains.
My sacred plants worshipping the sun, I tended you to hear your secrets.
I tended you to understand your life as a cycle, your language in silence.
Your fragrant flower spoke to my nose in sweet tones, your fruit spoke to my taste and convinced it beyond a doubt.
A flower as small as a spark lighting up an inch of a concrete city.
Or a tree of flowering fireworks majestically stealing the attention of the whole street.
The magic in your root, the strength in your stem, and the life in your leaves.
So if you see some dirt that you can throw a seed in...
Let´s make our way one day to the modern garden of Eden.
Plants, your energy is my medicine and passing your patch is a most valuable moment...
True tranquility.

The devils a climber!

The devils a climber, the mountains are his crimes.
He eats your pride, he roasts your fear. Athiests and priests even martyrs he dares.
The devil grows higher like a fire in a city that doesn´t care.
His face imposes damned thought. In oceans of shame and doubt. The most diabolical fish are caught!
The devil is a climber, part of us belong. Freedom lies in creation which we let him steal for money.
Let him steal it for fame.
He´d drag a man half way around the world using a spell of delusion. Encourage us to frighten, fight, fear and abuse. The preachers can´t save us just as addicted to the word sinner as the accuser.
That´s his name beyond the climber, the lier and the profound unholy user.
For your thoughts on fire, your mind possesed. The devil is a climber certainly, this blind ambition he blessed.
We judge as if we have something to say that others should see... Always refusing mercy or holy amnesty.
In a cave he brews fine steaming pots of dishonesty, delivering it in the night´s wind wrapped in urgent wanting.
Thousands of screamers in anarchy make his saturday night party music, he plays the dirty, the broken, he plays me and you til we´re sick.
Sometimes so eloquent other times so blatantly twisted. Can we escape him is there a way, or through our destiny have we missed it? Please not the symbol of the serpent hissing.
Both worlds confuse us the heavenly bright and the terrifying dark. Which afterlife or higher dimension, which celestial ark? which side will we return, to make our eternal mark?

BODY OF PAIN

Across the surface, visit your purpose.
Across the surface visit your purpose!
Anchor your confusion.
What´s the worst that can happen, these streets are easy veins baby.
These buildings fancy bloodclots.
You stay dry when it rains.
Talk to next year with your conscience, your mouth and your good ear.
Across the table the same utensils the same beverages the same food.
Most of us alike all living under a typical roof.
There´s hardly some distant mystery, When you are your predictable neighbour, you are your plain community.
Across the surface you use your opinion to wear as different clothes. But there are thousands that way dressing and speaking like robotic clones, give me the ringtone.
Anchor your confusion, try not to abuse it, as familiar as the sun.
Your SUBCONSCIOUS CONFORMITY! The crowds you pretend to shun.
What´s the worst that can happen. These streets are easy veins. You´re just a drop of blood in a body full of PAIN!

This joke...

This is a big joke. All of this. Smiles are are so pleasant, they come along and cool us off.
This big joke, not one of us wants to admit that our lives are just well told jokes and even not so well told jokes! And some lives are really hilarious no matter how they are told. Smiles are sweet and laughing is infectious as it is bold. Comedy is courage a cure to those afraid.
People take these ways of life seriously and make excuses and turn away.
Tell me it´s not all for fun. Clowns surround you dishing out the most absolutely ridiculous puns. Then waiting for our reaction. Lips pursed, dear they wait! Wait for satisfaction... In our stutter, in our shiver. Wait for us to turn around and nail them with a smartarse response delivered, ha. They laugh whatever happens and their lil´ joy however absurd keeps them spritely, keeps them fresh. So true to their joke, true to the test, they know enough about life by letting it go. Sometimes the more we worry the more senile we go, only humour can save us only humour will show. Stubborness and pride reach around us putting glue on our backs and pushing us to the floor making us liers. In no time we´re stuck and complaining and wailing like helpless infant choirs.
Jokes, You got to know how to tell a joke.
Timing all that stuff, when they laugh for an instant they are your toy. Screw the joke up and everyone frowns or walks off annoyed. You have a dream that makes you do something stupid, jokes on you could mean nothing!
Punchlines rise and fall and who adores them more than a crowd hungry for laughs. Gods an immortal clown even when he crosses our human paths, check it out...
The clown was rejected by the sinister cannibals on horses, because they said clowns tasted funny with their clown paint running down into the sauce. my my.
The man woke up laughing not knowing what the voice in his dream said. Then he turned around and looked over to see the clown beside his bed.
The man woke up feeling really down, then he looked over to see a picture of a dead clown.
Life is a joke and religions are styles of humour. Preaching can be a standup comedy boomer!
What about having a weapon in a sense of humour, laugh out cancer and chuckle all the tumours.
And what´s not funny to one is funny to another. Even strange rhymes, bla bla bla.
The longer you laugh, the longer you live. Ha ha ha.

frogs do damage!

Down by a little pond in the middle of  lowell forest lay a colony of very hyperactive frogs.
The big lilly pads couldn´t stop them from disturbing the tranquility of the pond.
Even rabbits with great wide whiskers who pulled up for a drink would be assaulted by a gang of hopping crazy frogs! Jumping away rapidly shaking his snout droplets of water coming off his whiskers.
One of the frogs was so cocky he would actually follow the animals into lowell forest.
One day the cocky frog and his friends had just scared a very big rat off their pond, the cocky frog was hopping behind the big rat further and further from the pond until the terrain changed from swamp grass to pine needles.
The rat turned around and with it´s dark sinister nose raised baring two yellow sharp teeth it challenged the cocky frog.
What a sight with the rat three times the size of the frog. The frog wouldn´t last against such a beast.
so the rat hissed and the frog croaked.
Meanwhile the rabbit with the whiskers was hiding behind a little bush watching the whole thing.
And just as the rat beared down on the cocky frog a big boot came out of nowhere, it was the farmer Old Macregor. By accident he had arrived in the middle of this animal conflict.
Not far behind was the farmers dog a dutch hound named Ruby. So the rat could smell him out and bolted for a big patch of thistle. The frog turned to the dog who was now running at him, not worried in the slightest the frog jumped toward the dog with a croak that was almost as heroic as a war cry. Landing one foot before the big doofy dutch hound. The dog looked round as if there was some kind of trick for such an easy snack!
But no just the cocky frog staring the dutchhound down.
And without much hesitation the dog ate that cocky frog in one mouth full. And father macregor just turned around and laughed.
The pond was never the same again, and the rabbit went down to the pond when he liked, and the rat went down to the pond when he liked and they ate the lillies and hissed at the frogs and kicked back their legs. The rest of the frogs just kept quiet.
For months the pond didn´t stir but a little tadpole had almost come of age. The rat had grown old and decrepid and the rabbit jumped about at half the speed. The tadpole however was now a little frog causing commotion in the pond until even the fish were hiding at the mud at the bottom just to get alittle peace.
The frog jumped around uncontrollably and did lots of weird stuff that frogs don´t do.
The frog would dig holes and spit water and jump up trees.
This cocky frog was so brazen he made the alst one look tame. One day the rat came down to the pond not expecting anything to happen and suddenly "BANG" the new cocky frog leapt on him and started to rip out his old fur in his toothless frog mouth, tormenting the poor old rat until the rat fell down dead out of great chock and confusion. The cocky frog jumped off the rats corpse and croaked with it´s big eyes bulging out in the late afternoon misty gloom. It licked it´s bulging eyes with his long sleek tongue with such accuracy and style the other frogs became jealous and started trying to imitate the new cocky frog.
The whole pond bubbled that night until the lillies were all upside down, the frogs were agitated. The fish were so pissed off they were planning their own rebellion against the stupid frogs. Anyway two days later the deadrat was well on his way to rotting and Ruby the dutch hound smelt it and wanted a piece of that. So he went down there to see if he could get his snack. And "FROGATTACK" frogs from all sides jumped onto the doofy dutchhound until Ruby was totally turned around and confused the dog fell into the water with frogs all over him. By this time the few fish in the pond were so sick of cocky frog and his amigos that they decided to do their own trick... They started to create a whirl pool by swimming round and round the pond creating a current dragging the doofy dutch hound even further under the water where the frogs would taunt and jeer at the drowning dog.
Suddenly farmer Mcgregor arrived on the scene diving into the pond trying to save his dog, almost slowing the whirlpool so he could have carried himself and his dog out of the pond. But the frogs had started chasing the fish now increasing the flow of the current, and now the farmer and his dog slowly drowned in the pond never to be seen again.
This is not a true story or even a story based on an untrue story. and don´t use this story as an example of how frogs can be dangerous. It wont stand up in court.
frogs don´t kill people mysterious underwater currents can. Or poison frogs.
So don´t lick frogs.

Não sou melhor

Não sou melhor...
Ele se acha, ele se acha melhor que outras pessoas.
Não adianta falar com ele, pois ele se acha melhor.
Ele se alimenta corrigindo os outros.
A alma dele é arrogância pura.
Ele desfruta quando os outros revelam as fraquezas deles.
Humildade é a palavra disconhecida por ele.
Maior do que todos ninguém atinge tal nível de nobreza.
Ninguém é mais gentil ou generoso.
Sugerindo, recomendando e dando opinião aonde ninguém quer ouvir.
Ele se acha mais certo em todos os casos. E quando não, sai da conversa tentando picar com ironia.
Aparência é todo, verdade é pouco. Tamanho orgulho em geral é louco.
Mas não sou melhor do que esse triste homen!
I´m not better...
He rates himself, he thinks he´s better than other people.
It´s no use trying to speak to him, cause he thinks he´s the best.
He feeds himself correcting others.
His soul is pure arrogance!
He delights when others reveal their weaknesses.
Humble is a word unknown to him.
Bigger than everybody, nonone can attain his level of nobility.
Noone is kinder or more generous.
Suggesting, recommending and giving his opinion where nobody wants to hear it.
He thinks of himself as dead right in every case. And when he´s not he exits the conversation trying to sting us with his sarcasm.
Appearance is everything, truth counts for little.
The pride´s size in general is crazy!
But i´m no better than this sad man.