A knock on the highway

Egyptian windows in a pancake world,

big balloons, green kisses

swarming beside a waterfall of angels,

a speck of dust is crying out

in these mysterious nights of wonder,

wide open eyes, the screams are massive.

Cold blood inside the dreaming circles

of Love.

Trembling mother earth

Faithful beyond the next step

the purple ground is shaking,

solid earth is slipping fast

through my broken fingers.

You're captured in a cave of mirrors!

Court dress of ice

If you want me there, look into my eyes

and find the corner where I lost you.

Water structure, the basic rules

Instead of taking drugs or medication
to feel the chemical illusion of being mortal
please go to the deserts of Africa
and experience the wild sun for the first time,
become natural dust again until you’re open
and green.
( ‘Come, come, who ever you are,
 shame is unknown over here.
 If you swore a thousand oaths,
 and if you broke them time after time,
 come, keep coming, come.’ –Rumi- )

Global filth is talking loud

Invasion of plastic

the year of the degenerated fish,
the rupture of tired butterfly wings
an inner explosion of lost garbage
slow death,
sharp breath.
No (de)monetary conclusion
in the rage of the cosmic ocean.

Pointing out the hard liners

Fake mustard behind the teleported engine

bell whispers in the golden frame
the hard coverage of the talking heads
is melting in terrible slow-motion
inside the big cheese.
The mother went insane. 

Heat wave made of purple tears

I’m always lying, swallowed my soul

for a thousand years
nailed the mass to an empty screen
of desirable dreams in digital colours,
the mirror machine is moaning.

In and out the thrashcan blues

I’m doing fine

on cloud nine
the seventh heaven
the welfare line,
brand controlled in a traffic jam
lost in rules and taxes
with an infinite hole as a bank account
I’m throwing thrash on this virginity,
the red constructions
of the burning ground.

Walking the dog completely naked
in the raging fragile rain.
Sweet inspiration
breathing in and out, so fine
this eloquent celebration
against all odds.

Elemental kicking against the pricks
stirring up the farm yard again,
there is no borderline
I’m doing fine
playing with those ancient licks
wide open is the heart
it's all in the mix.
Mashed up creation,
sampled blood of realisation
from the global memory,
this sins will not be forgotten
while I'm
embracing Johnny Rotten.

Cowgirl in the sand

The elements are changing into the blue.

Deaf, dumb and blind

I am that, you are that, it is,

being here and now,

always, an infinite evolution
to come back home where the heart is,
the open source, awareness,
I am that I am.
Inspiration has something to do with breathing,
the factory is strangling the Goddess
to a certain death,
Little boys and girls are dreaming
in a plastic king-sized bed,
the frequency is screaming like heaven and hell,
pointing fingers to keep the contradiction
for the invisible towers and the broken bell.
Short-term investments are going up and down
in the greedy hands of burned out players,
the sword underneath their manufactured
garments of electromagnetic light.
Circles of pain counting the stains of blood money
while penetrating a stoned virgin high
in a bed of roses late at night.
The saviours eating some manipulated bad fruits
and injected the illusion of anxiety
with a cocktail of bliss
their words still too strange to be understood
in the year of the defragmentated fish.
(struggling with a moonbeam
 and a movement of splinters)

Illuminated, hysterical naked

Hysterical naked

in the machinery of the night

illuminated fractals, the terror of the walls,
the ball is over and about to begin
the sins of the father
the sins of the mother
on colourful credit-cards.
Going to the pawnshop
to build me a dream,
vanishing into nowhere
on a Zen mountain,
saint john still on the cross but already smiling,
the mother weeps in the soft wind,
jumping of the roof in a limousine sleep,
the intoxicated screams of abuse
beating on drunken virgins in diamond chains,
the realms of love became echoes of dust
on the broken shelves of the library.
The jumping became flying
in borderless infinity complaining about the valley of tears.
Is it so difficult to choose between your grandchildren
and conflicting interests in oil?

Hope you will already know how to play the harp

The same old songs
controlled by managing our senses
to find our way in the marketplace,
the one-liners will hit you hard
in the centre of your emotions,
deformed by repetition.


Faithful on the barricade.
The utopian knowledge of speculation,
the Gardens created from our history.
Always hoping
that it will get you through the night
the brain overwhelmed by contradiction.


Playing three notes on an old guitar
with smoking fingers beside the moon.

No borderlines in the heart

The camels are smiling to seek you

sweet Love,

be welcome, always,
they are waiting.
Respect is seldom heard
in this immanent infinity.


Brand controlled children
are wandering through
the digital factory,
free market desire
to keep the flock in place,
empty puppets dangling
from their greedy claws.

The shareholders manipulation
to keep property in obscurity.
The horns are whispering,
there are no walls.

the season is changing

Green prospects beyond simplicity,

a room in the heart with a view

the alternative arrangement
becomes a rough remedy,

don't fly around in circles
keep your feet on solid earth,

the universe is in the little things,

it will grow in time. 

Expanding to a grain of sand.
(another birth)

the martyr stabbed the prophet in his back

Standing on the shoulders of drunken giants

with terrible drug problems, all in the mix

the little people were strolling slowly behind

the orange pages in a eloquent purple rage,

the echo will blind you monday morning

while whispering the name of a fruitcake.

an imitation of the king

Selling the little girls and boys

a pharmaceutical engine to copy greed.

The vampire developed a blue pill
to stay happy after murder.
The corporate man designed
a stock market
burn out.


The sword inside the water crystals.

Child of the Sun

Being there

in the middle of heaven and hell

the nature of timeless reflection,

not my body,

not my thoughts,

not my feelings,

just a mirror machine gazing in the light.

An unbelievable big bang
of ever growing Love.

A simple twist of faith keeps on expending.

Reality without a borderline.

One.

Now and in the hour of our dead

We’ve got plenty of time to wonder,

she nearly lost her mind,

longing for more

of the same brand controlled certainties.
The old days are screaming
to the fast lane,
modernism’s and pale blue productivity,
the vampire too anxious to be poor,
the fruits are whispering.
In the dark ground
the seeds are pounding to the walls,
the sun is overwhelming
inside the chilly winds of the east.

The silence is complete

The big wheels are going

around and around.

Approachable doors of reflection

Fly a while around the circles

of the Heart.

The screams of agony

Angelic raving a million eyes multiply

humming through the minds
of the monster,
electric tentacles
caressing the skeletons of hate.

These trembling hearts are faithful,
appearing in the new morning
with purple mouths and butterfly breath
around the blazing Sun.

The Images of the illusionary One
are delicate,
a solid construction,
infinite flowers in the dark.

The noise of war is stumbling blind
through the screams of agony,
the mirror felt in a thousand pieces,
before his apathetic drowning feet,
he was staring at the back of the page,
the blood was slowly pouring out
in mystical conclusions.

Fragments of desire
swallowing the branches of the tree,
the leaves are falling faithfully
towards the open ground.


Always here, All ways now.

Energy from within

Connected to the wireless system
the energy level infected
the natural chaos,
the order of things.

The growth of dark spots
increased with a terrible speed,
the machines took over
the beating source of the alchemist.

Every third star exploded
in the back of the inner soul
and duplicated only empty shells,
the temporary mortal forms.

It became almost impossible
to be aware of light and darkness.

Be

Beyond the words an experience,
being, awareness no space or time.
What if reality is made out of bliss?
Creation, beholding,
destroying, reborn,
the moment is now.
Smile a while, breath in and out.
Reflection of light,
rainbow child,
don't be afraid it's just a shade.

Chemical Rocket in your stonewashed jeans

The psychotic visions of nuclear waste
is screaming loud through 
the microscopic soft windows, 
the doors of reflection.
A little blue pill, forever young,
the mothers are raw, the fluids are bitter,
dust in their hearts
no more time to play with the lost children
the connections disturbed by electromagnetic vomit
of a paranoid preacher.

Is it too hot to handle?

Burning through the shields,
this is ground control whispering
in the desert.
Basic rules of the Mother.

The unsustainable duality

We all know how it works, 

gravity your only option right here,

right now, just submitting to the natural laws,

the chaos of harmonious spheres,

stuck in the illusionary will to have big fun all of the time.
A totalitarian reaction of the memory gave you a wrong impression
of the future 
that never came 
deep in the eternal moment of the heart, 
the cosmic source of immanent creation.
(What if there is no solid tree left to lean on for contemplation?
Can you already create an ocean or a Universe of Love?)
Acid dust destroying the wisdom of breathing,
the elements used to be loaded with infinite inspiration,
the silent vehicle of meditation 
the only true transportation to get ahead,
the highway has no goal, it’s all about the journey, the movements
here and now, the experience of being, 
awareness and bliss,
the undivided One that is.
Submission to our infinite being.

The soft fertile winds are reduced to a stock market investment,
the captains of industry, the petrochemical hierarchy,
is showing off with perverted smiles 
to bring you a new green deal,
the faithful lethargic happy family 
anxious dwelling again 
in the labyrinth of the latest desire 
in blue rays on the burning screen,
their inferior garden digital readjusted
with the microscopic soft smell 
of rotting flesh of the drowning poor,
the subjects of the monetary kingdom 
have to keep on buying to digest anything 
that land screaming and bewildered on their plates,
so the grand wheels of modern life 
can keep on turning faster and faster, 
overheated in their rage.


In the meantime the Saints are strolling through their infecting factory grounds 
in glorious delight with their eyes wide open,
mysterious and fragile.

What goes up must come down, 
although in a deeper sense
it’s also part of the unsustainable duality.
(These words have nothing to do with any judgement 
but are merely an optional indication 
to experience the philosophers stone again.)
Who is searching for what? 

Dwelling in the country

From four corners they came,
the program was presented,
reduced to the great investment.
I have still some little time left to play
and if it’s alright with you
I will share the eternal One,
right NOW!

Fragile life

I'm a universal principle,
no rules apply to the ones that Love.
The natural fragile state.
The hurting ones need every rule they can find,
to bring them back to life.

An Angel in display

The seals are open,

I digested a digital paradise
sweet moments in my mouth
a bitter tale in my internal system.


Men of high position hiding underneath
a stone cold mountain of economic disorder
living in a horrible fairytale world
of plastic design,
design of short term desire.


Who told you that you couldn’t live
from the wings of the wind?


Have a little sunshine
in your limited edition 
and plant a tree,
the seeds are so mysterious
deep within awareness,
the fruits are smiling through the mist.


The seasons are always changing,
they play gracefully
with the infinite dust
of the eternal moment.
The work already has been done.
Have the ability to response 
to a crazy little thing called Love.


I saw a lion , a calf, a bird of pray, 
Angels on every corner.
The books are bittersweet for the wise
in this expression
of the mirror machine.

Blue mood with orange wings

The Bird is on the left side,
the angels are whispering softly
in wordless experience.