Keep your greedy hands to yourself
crystal youth chained in these economic cellars
of illusionary castles in the wind
wonderful desirable ass is shaking
to keep the dirt factory burning,
I became an old man too
hanging from the poplar tree.
The world of breath
going in going out.
Traffic jam in heaven
streams of consciousness
blocked by frogs
the princess is longing
for a castle in the wind
the heart is hidden and a head full of dust
the ancient library of the rainbow owl
is in-between those lucid words of silence
These implosions don’t fix anything
it won’t get any prophet back
much faster.
Everything is connected
beyond time and space,
a silly big bang of love
created a universe so fragile
and it gave you the freedom to destroy
just about nearly everything you are aware of
inside the dust,
even the parts you think you are experiencing yourself.
But can you build it
the way you found it? Who created too much flies?
Is your vision already wide enough
to be a natural part of these implications of gravity?
Are you essential ?
It’s clever to understand the fact
that infected water can make you very sick
and proper breathing could bring you unexpected bliss
right here, right now.
The saviour digested a plastic apple last night
hope she will live to tell you tomorrow.
So much for innovation.
Blue star stone free
the silence between the words
is changing ground control
the frequency is deeper than expected.
Sweet wine
The celebration is about to begin
the mystery in the lucid winds,
the door is open
On and on
Perpetual song, the seasons change
The slave market
the new order,
flying dirty in suffocating circles,
the stirring wheel is melting the ancient mountains of solid ice
the deal is made, the manipulated flowers were picked
to put on the grave,
the monster is thirsty and drank the great ocean,
a tiny blue planet dissolving in the black hole
of his (un)scrupulous heart.
The oak is trying to break through the plastic ground,
the roots are playing very loud.
Subtractions of the factory,
a free child redundancy.
crystal skulls and bones with blood diamonds
thrown with screaming frustration through
financial multi million windows,
the (de)monetary maze is calling
to keep the infected factories burning and in place,
the grand investment of the new world order.
The tribes are well armed, just enough money
to buy a gun, fighting amongst each other,
dying on the raw material,
the material you could also use to make a plough,
the same material that end up in the pockets
of the investors who choose to make guns.
So much for economy.
Mother Africa is still bleeding
in a dark cellar in
she is gang raped over and over again, chained to the wall
by the emperors of democracy,
in-between their moments of desire for more of the same
the deal was made with China to pay off the debts,
the world of slavery.
Smile the camera is walking through the mirror machine.
The eternal knows right now.
The April fools are dancing in the free infinite,
jumping from the top of the mountain
I know nothing and it’s so terrible good to be.
Shaking the tree of knowledge
the masquerade of good and bad,
the searching matter of desire.
The rude One
is dying to become alive again,
deep inside the eternal moment beyond time and space.
(dust is dying to become alive)
The way of the seasons
our elemental nature, the cosmic alliance.
No body knows the true name of Love
only a sweet fantastic mystical indication
to play with.
The Sun is shining very light today.