The holy golden chain

A necklace of the christ hung on the shiny green bill
The long shiny green bill kicking up from the watery floor
to wandering humans trying to reach it at a crawl
Giant leaves that would please the market

Golden chain just dangling there not sinking in the clear water
someone's pray ground shrine all blessed by the evangelist thought
Just hanging off giant leaves each leaf a thousand dollars
Attached to the end of it like a golden collar

Swaying with the flow of the water and shining a sweet cutting light
One that passerby's wouldn't pass up but their hands are tied
for religious conotation has them chained to the poverty generation brain
They'd break down a money vault door and sell themselves as whores
But die and curse the rain before they touch that saintly holy golden chain

Dusk gone, night crumbles

You swapped your friends for some street dog woe woe
Dusk is your party but pretty soon it´s over city light stepping into you
You swapped your residence for an avenue
Life goal find a soft place to rest your aching head

Lost in the dark blue dusk as day fades so does your sense of direction
The heavily packed neighbourhoods yield no answers
You can´t get your bearings by walking any faster
Look inward and the deep blue sky reflects off your heart

simple mirror of delicious sensual cloudless pre-dark
Is there enough room in there for two, fantasies echo from the brain
The veiny frown looks up from under the ribcage "Is there enough room for you?"
The night steals the rest of that conversation, the devlish internal dialogue

Completely lost and still moving through the city
Street light guiding you in most places street dog long gone
Dusk was your party but now it´s over city light is stepping into you
It´s all woe is me and some fancy modern emotional disease

Could you hold yourself together on these dangerous dark night city streets?
As good as a tumbleweed in a network of breezy cut throat alleys
An open deposit Yard welcomes you, it´s beer drinking nobodies
bragging at the top of their lungs, that´s your informal welcome

jacket open
skin open
Ribcage open
Heart banging like a stereo

Now you got these guys dancing on top of the trailer
to the rhythm of your heart like drunken sailors
to the anguish of the night
to the pauses that kill both life purpose and plight

The oily Stony dirt in the deposit rearing up an earthy purple
You say good bye to momentary sympathizers momentarily cheerful
Close the gates on clumsy smallfry servitude in a tumble
And take the night, stuff it your clanging heart until that motherfucker crumbles

Chump screen stitch!

The in the know group of main street men
who walk down the avenue with shaven grins
Whose pace and step is a reflection of success
The few who keep up are just the beggers in a mess

They descend to the subway fast
 their thousand dollar coats moving to the draught
It looks like they´re almost going to laugh
Sporting keen shaven grins as they pass

The street hussler stands up straight almost in protest, just cheap quips
Female train attendants with their empty cups pretend to sip
Shoe shine boys gathering courage to ask their lost tip
These men are no change and brisk
 secrets well hidden in the heads behind their lips
Breaking eyecontact the only move that fits

The hussler, the true loser tries to move a ruse to make himself rich
You can´t have their respect or attempt your lippy pitch
They know your device and in your plight sew a stitch
They´ve made this city their armoured trucking bitch
Quote unfairness with a mouth of the envious itch
They haul bullion while you sit infront of chump screens and twitch

Worship inspiration

I was wondering where the uninspired go to find their passion again
I often asked myself have I ever been one of them?
And in brief minutes recollect the fact that each word
is a drop of my enthusiasm

A drop of my eternal sweet immortality
Sugar cane epochs growing on and only dying back to the rhizome
Then bursting up again come the wet season
Tropical necessity

I was wondering what grey empty snowed in writers dare
when their creative repertoire is impaired
Autumn stole the leaves and winter the rest of the landscape
Speaking from my third eye from an abundant third world

How many who write their way into the world
Did so, to even the score of a game they don´t understand?
How many well meaning adolescentes fall from cliffs of idealism
to be swept into the polar tides below ice numbing the thought patterns into apathy

What will you rhyme of then pretty wordsmith?
Any pattern you let own your style will be tainted
By a lack of knowledge and awareness you had relented
under the voracious notions of good and evil that man invented

Where is your spontaneity when it is controled by overstimulated moral outrage
It grabs your pen and tapping fingers and locks you in the perfect world cage
that you your self made
and even when winter fades
Spring won´t make you a hippy
Poetry is more than a similie

Inspiration is my god and vice versa
Follow each word of mine heavier than an egyptian curse if you plagiarize
I demand to see free will inside a modern stanza thats what I idealize
Arguements of a perfect ethical world come closer to real lies
Blessings and abundance, malnutrition and disease
Some of them plague us while others please
Blame or praise god for one, I for neither

Icebergs and otters

Icebergs came into the bay like cool blue frigates
The plush green subtropical coast palm trees looking on
calling out to the icebergs calling them into land
A beautiful compact mansion tucked into the hill also looking out

A stout brown brick two towered beast of a building
Half concealed by the tall beachside evergreens
was poking out to see icebergs in the warm bay
Something stirred within it's breaches

A dolphin on the stairwell
hunting jellyfish in the waterhole
Shamefully caught in the act
The sea mammal flapped and flipped back down stairs

Upstairs another water hole where a giant sea slug was emerging
It's face as proud as father's at the birth of his first son
They would all have to make do in the waterholes though
As a thousand anxious nuns led by a bishop stormed the building

Desperate men were trying to escape from the mansion
They planted c4 explosives and used terribly destructive weapons
The pursuers and the mansion unharmed and undamaged
And the icebergs hadn't melted not a drop

What becomes of the eternal bully

They worked at the same shop
On the other side of the street from the construction deposit
They worked for years there
friendship grew as the shelves emptied

Then they both arrived on the crowded bus
bullies skulked in the backseats
Then made their way hunting out a victim
Friendship couldn't save them from the seven minute trip

They presented flutes and played malevolence
They set traps and to their delight caught the unfortunate
Their laughter like crazed and rabid hyenas
shrill and as horrid as the kid's bruised leg

The bullies found themselves off the bus
In a field surrounded by shrouded figures
The bullies couldn't move and couldn't speak
their tongues trapped they were terrified

The cloaks of the judges hardly wavered in the breeze
The bullies didn't want to look at them but their eyes were glued
Everything was out in the open like salt on uncovered wounds

Then the two friends arrived to forgive the bullies
for they had been invited to hill love kingdom
They forgave the bullies and pleaded for the cloaked figures to do the same
But the cloaked figures were not men like me or you

When it comes to what you say

When it speaks to your heart its time to go in that direction
When the length of time you´d have to wait was determined
And all your doubts and fears begging to be confirmed
At the end of the day work stops and light dims

When it comes to convincing others
you´ve got your own mouth to repeat
When it speaks to your vulnerability it´s time to stop the car
all your doubts and fears staining the welcome mat

When it comes to speaking your mind
you´ll have a real deep reason for it
When it speaks to your freedom of speech
you´ll quite often step on people´s feelings

When it comes to owning up to your mistakes
well we couldn´t find a mountain high enough to push you up