Tyrant with that shrapnel

 Seem to fantasize.

About a world,
Possess everything.

Kingdom assembled
Impossible appetites.
Throne carved.
from wanting.

Selfish.
Dirty.
Distorted.
Asleep.

Idiotic enough
Mistake desire,
for reality.

Lost inside,
Broken perceptions,
Let my hungers.
Govern the day,
like tyrants.
Wearing my own face.

Out of control.
Diabolical.

Every hand belongs.
Every eye turns.
Ownership.
Loyalty.

Never satisfied.

Can smell it.
Almost taste it.

Give me rivers.
Demand the ocean.

The world offers existence.
I demand dominion.

Deep down
Destroy the world.

This is evil,
So refuse
to become mine.

Short-changed.

Anger is a bomb,
packed with a trillion tonnes
of shrapnel.

Nothing...
Nothing exists
outside my command.

Control it.

Perhaps the
Oldest sickness.

Ownership.

Needing loyalty.

The worst narcissist
that exists.

Human poison.

Empty ghoul
walking upright,
Mistaking people
for food.

Along the journey
Misplaced soul.

Now leak
radioactive glue,

Every touch,
another contamination,

Every embrace,
Cannot come clean.

This is the kingdom
Secretly built.

Until nothing remains.

Except wanting.

Rotten coward

 Stripped down
Shown to be a coward
Naked infront of taunters
Incredible people
Not worthy

Wanting to reach out
Folded nothing in hands
My blood was drained
Stood like a corpse

Hidden wires holding me up
What a ridiculous foreigner
Interloper to reign on our parade
The mark on society

The rotting leper
Stashed into the wall crevice

Transit point

 Reach the transit point
Where incredible bridges and train stations stand
No luggage, no direction just pure faith
a hundred meters below there are rivers crossing

Hundreds of meters above tree bound mountains and ridges
here in the middle in this transit point a farewell is at hand
A man and a woman walk in separate directions
Not out of hate, infighting or lack of love

But to seek their own destiny
Their overwhelming heart's desire
Despite the guarantee of none of these
Empty beds await

Empty houses await
That sense of silence so many decibels fewer
The sense of cold many degrees lower
Here at the transit point the realization

They walk away and don't look back
Tears may come but they make up the journey
falling like footsteps in the opposite direction
From the only person who ever gave their life any semblance of true love

The rooster and the sofa

 The afternoon sun
leans through the front window.

There are no doors.
You are already inside.

There should be a bed.
Instead there is a sofa.

The sofa is death.

Purple,
its leather catches the light
until it almost blinds,
shining with blinding inquisition.

Above it,
a weathercock,
one of those rooster arrows
that shows where wind goes.

It changes.
It becomes a bow.
The arrow is loosed.

It buries itself
into the leather.

Death.

Then nothing.

Darkness.

Otaihanga simple

 The wide stream never used to be for boats.
An estuary that made those few feel grateful.
Back then in 1959 people thought it was simple.
The greatness of simply existing to build something.
The local lostness of it all, uncertain beginnings
What is now a shallow muddy inlet back then-
Was an abundant waterway where boys would fish.
The mystery of the lupins lighting up those early years.
The heavy macrocarpa pines flexing toward the beach.
The strange Tararua ranges glaring down.
Knee high on the margin a young man stands.
Pondering the future of an incredible country.
That would flourish, then become a culture of complaint.
Ingenuity would be replaced with perfectionsim.
Progress would be in words and appearances.
Overtime the river became shallow and the boats disappeared.
Sailing off to Aussie for a better future.

Übernommen

Der Wahnsinn hat mich übernommen.
Mein letzter Schritt war umsonst.
Ich wäre fast zurückgekommen,
doch jetzt bin ich anders.

Mein Geist hat versucht, in ein anderes Leben zu gelangen,
doch auch das war umsonst,
denn ein Stück von mir bleibt noch hier.

Ich bin durch die Zeit gereist und durch den Himmel.
Doch jedes Mal bin ich dort geblieben, wo ich bin.

Higher vibrations

Like steel toward the things you seek.

Glimpse fragments of your future
small mercies from a presence,
a hand upon your shoulder,
whispering,
Possibilities.

Parents made promises,
Sometimes those promises dissolved.
Most of us learned that lesson.

Yet hidden inside that disappointment
was an unexpected gift:
We learned to survive on possibility.

Life,
The power that carries it,
is more complex than imagination can fathom.

That is why rigid religion,
tidy spirituality.
So often fail to bring us close
to the lives we long to live.

Lives with less anxiety.
Lives with a deeper sense of freedom.

Today,
Expectations must remain low,
but never your hope.
Hope belongs to the horizon.

The moment hope climbs the fence
and enters the territory of expectation,
All bets are off.