The Kings flew a little too high

Message in a bottle,
the mighty ocean, open water,
consciousness.

God’s Son runs with the head of a soldier
in his backpack, to survive inside the satellite
construction of the proud one, the dark dream,
The soldier was injected with a mark
inside his third eye, after a explosion the head
rolled before the saviours feet,
it gave him the opportunity to plunder the account
of the kings of dust.
The kings flew a little too high with their iron wings
so God’s son did his economic trickery
and transformed the uncertainty of the silly currency,
it became a chaotic mess to wonder in.

Only the intention behind your payment,
will get your white feathers back
every hair was counted in a butterfly move.

Some values are so much stronger,
the understanding of her dept
after some experience, the only way to know
what this is all about.

Paradise always here and now
from a certain perspective,
to be open is the hard way today.
( ‘such a strange vibration’)
‘Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.’

If you want to see God in the face,
you got to recognize your own
inside the mighty mirror machine.

You can’t buy Love
with a credit card
throwing shoes against your windows,
I felt the pain
in the river of Love stretching out to show you
the Garden again.

The Dutch blowing up Chinese crackers in the wind,
the clouds are burning in a misty atmosphere
the (de)monetary structure is used to it by law.

Elemental blue

Elemental blue
in capital whispers,
the flame higher
and expected.

The child plays in the centre of awareness,
naked in the rain.

The temple door illusion

When I’m fearless
to invite you
inside my mirror ball,
the dream that never ended.
Can you do without your 15 minutes
of Fame?

There is no conclusion
in these colourful manifestations,
I am infinite, a chaotic principle,
no thought is deep enough
to be substantial
in this Garden of Love.

The (de)monetary factory
is trying to invent the wheel again,
while I’m painting the Universe
with infected Dirt
from the beginning of time.

crossroads in the dust

Infinite eternal knowledge
is powerless
in a small World.

Be an individual
with cosmic measures.

You could start with having faith,
call it an assumption to play with.
Beyond the mask(the persona)
exists the wild peace, the ocean of Love,
the only One, in the mirror machine
it’s too fragile for the mind
to understand.
Wisdom goes far beyond
any sentence, any book or any whisper
of an Angel,
far beyond any word of a prophet, a saviour,
a mushroom, a sinner or a saint,
just fingers pointing at the moon.

The immanent genetic measures,
the mystic experience of a resonating Heart,
no restrictions were found
in that crazy little thing called Love,
matter the stage to dance on together,
children of the Sun, space less, timeless
Here and Now.

The Sunshine calls you in
from every mountain,
nothing should be excluded
deep inside the Natural One,
being awareness bliss.

After every butterfly movement
the walls are crumbling.

Where are you, now?

Which door is open,
after so many rounds?
Some of them transformed
the small room you’re hiding in.

Only One Level
to be aware off.

Ground Control, the supervision

I’ve got a good reason to sing beyond the dust
of your trying, you missing my part in an empty gesture,
the illusions inside the thoughts, went into a scientific
nightmare, you stole my nervous system
with your little white pill, I’m hunting for your heart now
to come back home to the Garden in a painful bliss.

The chemical substance infected every system, on Earth
the aggression too much for you to control now,
the temple doors are open for your pride,
dark one!

Sharing inside this timeless comprehension

It’s payday
for a certain kind of man,
after an empty party
of material fog, wheels on fire
and a country full of products.
Everybody for sale,
believing in plastic debts,
careless and cunning
a rainbow manipulation to rule,
fear the engine to keep the factory
burning,
insurance for an interpretation
for a future that never came.

There is greed in repetition,
we used to share this time
and if you don’t remember,
please don’t break these lines.

God threw a tortured foetus
against the logics of righteousness
infected thoughts
in scientific philosophy
no beginning, no end,
the realisation of being Love,
it’s so fine to keep it simple,
just leaning against a living tree
that was planted deep inside of me,
put your heart back on, and trust
your capsule in this cosmic space!
A natural meditation
no silly words to comprehend
the magic.

‘You will grow,
just like a flower.’

Slowly open.
Inviting the streams of awareness,
awoken from the dream
far beyond the battlefield
of good and bad,
every suffering deeply felt
in the blissful wondering
right here, right Now.

The French Kiss

The hurdle is killing, torturing
and raping,
some fools are suggesting
it’s because of a planetary constellation,
but most of the time it’s about
too much lost souls mixed up in desire
well educated with a master degree
from for instance the University
of Harvard.
( some knowledge is powerless these days)
after a certain amount of learning
you can become a captain of industry
and dump big piles of plastic
in the Ocean and mess
with nuclear poison.

The respect of the Goddess,
the fruit bearing Earth,
slaughtered like a dog,
after a French kiss !

Playing with numbers

The three graces
underneath the purple sun,
they are giving so much away

today
everybody in Holland
could have been
a multi millionaire.

There is only interest
for a few.

The mirror machine

is for free,

someone still has to break

the bread and put the wine

in the vine.

The hard way

I have a tantrum,
bashing the dealers
of global interpretation
out of the temple of Love.

Seven years of sorrow
inside my ecstatic joy
of awareness.

I’ve seen enough darkness
to expect a new dawn
again and again,
my future was made
deep within the first moment,
the infinite measures are One.

Love is playing out loud
everything is made of it,
the hard way is to know
who you are,
my Love.

Interests of an association of deformation

Catching shades on the edge of the World
(part one)
(or everything you need to know about the bubbling wind
and the magical Sun)

Deep inside the loaded wires
laughs the silent sweetness
without any boundary,
outside the rainforest
is still dripping a little bit,
the dog on her pink cover
with colourful flower print,
she snores in the softness of the
night.

The craving is descending
and Heaven falls extremely fragile
with it’s feet on the
substantial ground.
(part two)
The shrill cymbals are cracking
beside the numbers of the bell tower
in timeless platitudes,
the attention passes through the day
in anthropomorphic parabolic measures.
(part three)
The filed security input
inside the moulding matter,
the bubbling wind smashed me
back into the universe,
the Sun is burning infinite
in my dreams.

(it’s a change of climate
when you know you are sharing energy)
Is the web infected, are you infected too?

The Walls crumble

I reached out
for a certain kind of blue
both arms around
the shaman daughter
fragile light
erected inside the ocean
of stardust high.

The wild morning
crashed through the walls
of lonely anxiety
and left me
with a wordless whisper,
a new song.

Playing with the dreaming dew,
a joyful dance,
the mystery
of the fruit bearing Sun.

Lifted too many stones

Her senses were so fragile
her intention very deep,
one word broke
her heart
a casual slogan
made her cheap,
so much for religion.

Know yourself

Who started
this fear infection?

Sending everybody back to the kindergarten

Our ancestors
are addicts too,
longing junkies
using too much juice.

Genetic measures
from the western swindle,
the virgin mother
blue and used up,
raped and abused,
stabbed
in her celestial back.

The great economic growth
is digested inside the mirror
machine,
with devastating laughter.

Eastern Island blues,
the last tree is crying
in my dreams.

Today I created a new currency
it’s made of
butterfly colours, snakeskin moves
flower fragrances and rainbow smiles,
spider web complexity, frog eyed satisfaction,
mythical master melodies, frozen mountain breath,

river stream infection, deep sea higher beats
and air constructed nudity,
it’s borderless infinity

inside this reflexion
with a solid smile
from the depth within.

( it's all about the
financial terrorist organizations)
The self regulation of globalization
suffocated
the ethical code of this planet,

(de)monatary madness,

we used to pay with LOve.

Fences around a bank account

Integrity
in
community,
every crown needs to be open
the potency inside the elemental
source.
Confidence inside
faith the mortal mystery.

Even the prophets
get hyperactive
in these times.

Day in day out
screams in full colour,
cries in the cracks
of everything.

Inside you and me
only One
with uncountable names
and numbers,
the manifestation
of the dance.

Some memories
experienced the illusion,
the absence of darkness

when you're looking deep

enough.
The timeless state
when the reflection
in the natural mirror
is Love.
The compassion
goes beyond a judgement,
fearless is the flame
of the eternal One

Material limitation, the structure of our knowing

Traveling fast
in the restriction of matter,
lost in the economic labyrinth
of greed and pale desire,
tune in
and come home to the inner
structure, the mirror
is standing before
your dreaming eyes,
the infinite void
of everything.

The revolutionary Big Bang,
called Love needs no evolution
it is, was and will be
always here right now.
Drop in
and start sharing,
share to fly!

The elemental
is divine.

The market place
is created
by thieves and murderers
with a democratic vision
of good intention.

What does it take,
to grow a tasteful tomato?

Can you learn a bad egg

to stand up straight?

Share bread and wine

Angel flight in blue whispers
with a broken awareness underneath.

The walls still too dirty
to translate the crystal sentence
from the roots of the morning Sun.

Dwelling
inside these numbers
on your bank accounts,
searching for a way
to end the storyline
of a worthless desire.

Unload,
share bread and wine.

The weatherman is calling again

The mountains were melting
in my snakeskin,
the masters of the universe
lost compassion.



A humble gesture
postponed the revolution
because it felt good
to experience
the drizzling rain.

The morning broke
in thousand pieces
beside the open Sun.

The bleeding fire
lost in the wires
of his heart.

It's a new Dawn

Mystical pleasure
to experience the wonder
of being.
Don’t need
a scientist to know
the source of the universe,
being awareness beatitude.

It’s a Con, Cern.

Protecting the Garden, the forest of love

Wires
in the bloodstream
the elevation is dreaming
beside silent beats,
contemplation
with fairytale pressure.
The fool jumps to the moon
with daring whispers.

The wild dream
is leaning against a tree.

In a sentence
you could call
the inner nature
Love.

The Three Graces

Beautiful, fruitful , creative, charming,
delightful laughter, inner smile.

The virgin mother
shines through,
devotional to the wonder
of being.
The Garden
surrounds you
in this mystery always,
eternal,
bright and pure.
The Mountain
embracing the Fool again
in this blissful dream
beyond the scheme.

Are you fashionable enough
to leave the mind behind.
to stay with the question?

Questions

Invasion underneath
my celestial bed,
the cosmic measures
are expending
in these rainbow visions
of the awoken,
just before fear came in
from the backroom
of the economic maze,
I was gone,
dissolved into the ocean.

I’m bold enough
to put it in perspective.
just an eternal moment
to comprehend,
you can’t put the Garden
in a perfect sentence.

Who am I ?
What is Love ?
Questions to be aware off,
time after time.

Raw power of accuracy

The gold has to be somewhere.

I've digested the broken Sun

and amplified the measures

in a nuclear freeze.

Drunk on sugar mountain

Cutting sugarcane
in the heat,
the fragile dust, hungry,
so thirsty for life
the wounds infected
captured in the cruel corporate chains
of the puppet players of every president.

Uncertain,
hoping
some dark eagles
will fly on Friday.

Just to get drunk
on sugar mountain again,
only the cheapest wine
to still the hunting pain.

Printing silver coins on shining walls,

the raw material is stolen from the elemental

source.

Throw your software package on the ground

and start dancing !

Baby boom greed

The baby boom greed
and the morals of the perverted father.

I’m hiding in a sacred place
deep within.
For a few coins and a spoonful
this paradise is sold in this life
and probably in the(this)next life too.
Some called it heaven and hell,
who is leaving this mess behind?
Valley of tears.
Who is leaving this measures behind?
Cloud nine.

Throw your software package on the ground
and start dancing, thank God it’s Friday.

The image is made of it

Confidence,
when the senses open fragile,
in the rainbow fields.
The warmth of her smile,
carrying water to the thirsty Ones.

The mirror machine
has future right here, right now
and is going beyond
guild or fear.
The reflection will be
the deepest source,
a crazy little thing called Love,
every image is made of it
that is what we are.
The mountain call is always trying
deep within.

The regulator of dust

The corruption of the regulator
to finance the war,
the stolen elements of the third World
in a central illusion.

Intolerance, speculation,
religious self-interest,
dead words of love
stuck in the throats of the hateful.

Compassion is trying
to be aware of the pollution
of our heavenly body,
everything is holy.

Water hole on fire

Living on a thin ice mountain.

An air bubble was created
for everybody to be lost in
the inextricable wires
of greed.

Please it’s nice to share
an energetic smile
and hand over our bread and wine.

“The answer is blowing in the wind,”
so tired of fighting against the mills
again and again.

Is your knowledge second hand?

A dumb ass
is driving on cornbread
with an overheated brain
from his mobile phone,
his desire for meat
is corrected by a little blue pill,
he paid for it by speculation
on the free market
with the hermetic precision
of vampire numbers.

Immortal dance behind the Sun

The collective source is wireless,
through the seasons we change
in fragile measures.

“You’ll be the Sun
and I will be the Moon.”

With orange feathers reaching
for the Garden to comprehend,
a butterfly movement
made a soft breeze inside
the beatitude of a heart beat.

The work already has been done

Searching has become an industry
a long time ago,
some people are trying to mend a hole
with a hole of innovation,
didn’t they know
the work already has been done
from the beginning of time?

Please don’t create an end
inside your memory,
because it is timeless,
an eternal experiment
to understand the essence.

The simple order
in this complexity is One,
every grain of sand
divine and sacred.

Come back to the communion of saints,
be who you suppose to be
and don’t think twice,
it’s just a mirror machine
the reflection of light.

The Whirlpool, the monatary maze

Money, it’s so funny
(lost in a rich man’s world)
Fannie Mea and Freddie Mac
were lovers,
they robbed the bank
on a sunny day
and got away on the fastest plane.



The material is digested,
faeces left to let our lights shine,
what a relief.
The mirror machine
needs shit to survive
this suggestive poetry.

Who is dealing in fear,
just to let the factory burn
in an infected paradise?

Prison break beyond the mind

Sea of possibility
the Innocent One
beyond time and space,
Peace
the state of being,
always here and now.

Find the connection again and again,
it always is, was and will be.

We can’t put paradise
in a sentence.

Awareness is love,
love is awareness.

The edges scream

Horns whispering through the beat,
keep the fire burning
the Garden is breathing underneath,
a magic touch you can’t repeat.

The substance has shaken
her uncertain hand,
the borderline
tore her dance to small pieces
everything looks divided
for the untrained eye
walls are always crumbling,
the sun came through
a long time before your reckless stumbling.

Wires infront of the Sun

Sunny side up,
undivided awareness
the eye
of the storm,
the silence
of all sounds.

With our so called ‘genius’
we’re trying to heal the world
with a chemical substance
and called it our creation,
at the same time, the stuff
is infecting the very essence
of the source.

Can One split it into heaven and hell ?

It’s fragile.

Joy and pain
the inner desire,
you are no body, no thinking,
no feeling, no act,
put of these masks and be.

The dealer wants you to play along with the program,
freedom is dangerous in a small world,
the factory has to keep on burning,
nowadays with a ultra modern image
it really looks like environmental progression,
the green deal,
same old stuff, same old crap!

Much to learn in the depth of an eternal moment.

Egghead twisted in the wires

Realization to open
….windows.
The one that is searching
has to be found.

No one in this universe
ever found an Ego,
although the limitation
is all around.

Who stole those wonderful
ice mountains last week ?

Butterfly through the mirror machine

New updated edition,
the ancestral trying.

As you sow, so you shall reap.

The acceptance of consequences
in the fruitful Garden beside the Fire.

From chaos and inertia
descended into matter,
matter dancing in the universe
of light and dark,
the interpretation
just a memory.

The butterflies flutter tender
through the borders,
the movement is infinite.
The source of intention
is Love, the inner Goddess.

The pyramid scale, a bird in the wires

"Nothing is good or bad
but thinking makes it so. "
Shakespeare

"Ask, and it shall be given...
seek, and ye shall find;
knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
For every one that asketh recieveth;
and he that seeketh findeth;
and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
Therefore all things whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you,
do ye even so to them;
for this is the law and the prophets.

Ye have heard that it hath been said,
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth:
But I say unto you,
That ye resist not evil:
but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek,
turn to him the other also.

Blessed are the meek:
for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers:
for they shall be called the children of God.

Here and Now, the infinite eternal moment
Be, I am that I am

(being awareness beatitude)
Sometimes it's called Love
transcend the battlefield (duality)
God is Love
Love is God.

Dizzy deoxyribonucleic acid

The Mirrormachine
found the dream again
and made a connection
in the wireless substance,
the substructure
needs no company,
no boardroom,
no captains of industry.

Submit to the inner source,
it’s a crazy little thing
called Love.

The subliminal One
joyfully dancing in the protoplasm
of the virgin forest.

By order of authority
you have to be free
to comprehend,
watch the conception of the egghead
and the mongrel market,
they want to drive extremely fast
on mystical water.

Dizzy deoxyribonucleic acid
accepting the infinite structure
in a blue crystal ball.

The Wise are strolling
blissful beyond
the labyrinth of light and dark,
pointing their gentle fingers
at your desiring heart
to come back home.

The understanding to Wonder

Smile today,
she's dancing
in her yellow dress.



The measures are bright !

Sugar got a long way to get you through

Wisdom is to know
that you’re nothing,
Love is to know
you’re everything.

So sweet.

Purple heart of a butterfly

A generation
with X-ray visions
decorated with purple hearts
from the butterfly movement,
dreaming devotional
inside the open gates of the blue Mother.

The red ants consuming plastic,
the wires are shaking
rolling stones kept tumbling
when they moved freely through muddy waters.

The beats hit the Elysium
and grinned around the smoke,
the mirror machine gets overheated
in the pastoral scent of passion
beside the highway of illusion.

The scanning is complete,
there is nothing to search for,
beside the Self, the open source
let it Be.

A Mirage

The bear broke through
in oil concessions,
dealing fear
in the monetary maze.

I have tasted their crawling
in the torturing flames,
the war lords are dreaming
in their satellite constructions
of agony and pain.
The ancient books proclaiming:
“turn the other cheek.”
One the magic number!
The source is always free.

The dragon had his illusionary victory
with a broken spear of destiny,
and forgot about the infinite measures
of eternity.

More crap to buy
on every corner.

The big connection number nine

in seven steps


Playfull penetration on an Olympic field,
my balls are bigger and carried fire
when I'm laughing the Tibetan way.

Devotional faith inside awareness

The oak tree in the cherry season
smiling back at you,
with a heart around the Sun
the stars are dreaming free
in her complex agony,
the Earth is carrying it so gracefully,
reflecting a temple flying high
in disproportional catatonic greed.

You can’t teach manners
when you haven’t got them
completely back,
it’s a crazy little thing
called Love,
inside,
nothing to gain,
just be
the bliss, the beatitude
beyond the mind
of the meek,
the silence
the infinite sounds
of dark and light
the eternal heartbeat,
here and now.

The first civilization still ahead,
the next prophetess coughing blood
in her celestial bed.

Who is it that is searching there
inside these silly reflections of the mirror machine?
I thought I heard you calling
through the wires of the web.

Searching became an industry.

The honeybee

A big problem for a new world order
(the harmony of natural chaos inside their conspiracy)
-part one-

Impotent lizards
trying to steal our children’s heart
in the essence of the seed,
the only thing to gain
is a little bit of our mystical love.
Our elemental souls
will swallow their Universe completely
in the source of this wicked dream.
No grain of sand to be left behind
in our eternal presence.
I got my teeth
in your bitter tail,
mister president.
My death surprised you a long time ago,
didn’t you know I have made you a space to play in
a labyrinth to gaze behind the mask of the dark one.

My manipulation have send you a mirrormachine again
with illusionary wires,
parts from a Garden you’re longing for to experience.
What do you have to leave behind,
when you are hoping to get
through this mortal Gate?

-part two-
The drone is humming
in strawberry fields
with whipped cream
and narcoleptic essence,
practical progression on cloud nine.
An experience
deep inside the infinite moment.
The work already has been done
a long time ago.
Take off the veils
and dance around the magical Sun,
the nerves are craving for light.

Thin white smog

Ocean bite

the roads are leading back to you,

plastic numbers in the third eye

the form is standard with digital precision

the soul is getting blur

the stench is audible in the garden

the formulation epidemic waste.

Thin white smog

in meditation.

Electronic waste in the wires

Electronic waste
digital poetry of the elite
is burned by little boys,
no time to play.
The rivers are dead
and beautiful lungs are crying
and fighting for breath,
lost in the wires of the mirror
machine.


Multinational calculation
will it be strange
when the director of the board
is getting behind?