Grace in space

Looking inside the purple structure with grace

‘If it is too hot,
stay out of the kitchen.’

'If your not ready, don't look into

the mirror machine.'

The warm touch almost unbearable

Dancing around the breath of the Sun
in hermetic movements of solid joy.

The already forgotten question
is completely alive,
just empty rainbows to be filled.

The powerless weep

The Universe of euphoria
the nerves in a silent connection,
the peaceful dreamers are always
Awake.

I blew up the system yesterday
the radiation is much too high
to comprehend.

The Watchtower and the circles of pain

Just before this ecstatic dream you came in here
my guardian, my nature, a nude flight to play with
while life is gazing inside the shadows of the garden.
The chaotic backgrounds of history
are calling out in circles of pain,
the powerless screams whisper through the light
of the solid breeze,
the waves are beating on my blue eyed windows,
the hard resonance of the lost ones deep inside.
The memory is emerging like growing mountains
beside your warm infinity.

The volume of my system restoring the cold information
in wireless snapshots of discontent,
it’s scanning a grey area with light balls of purple fire.
“Don’t give me no black magic”
it’s a vulnerable construction
swallowed up by a small heart of suspicion.

A turning point

The Danger comes from deep within

watch out for pointing fingers.

The struggle doesn’t have a borderline,

it flows through both sides of the river,

silence is making noise.

A mountain of garbage is howling for transformation

a natural place to fit in again,

the radiation dose is dazzling, the nerves crashed in the air

the talking heads spitting poor one-liners of shady light

the cerebral hemispheres overheated,

the whispering Earth is trembling underneath.

The social structure in devastating chemical disorder,

designer drugs in orange juice and infected apple-pie.

The needle is broken to the bone no hole to get through easy,

the camels are dancing in the mirror machine,

the blade felt screaming in the night.

Die Weisse Rose(the white rose)

prayed for freedom twisted in the dark thorns of a demons dream,

the One is strolling on the black keys of a blue piano

and follows the reflections of the waterfront.

The Sun rays are painting the memory in my open eyes,

the urge to sing about the ecstatic birth of the Garden of Eden

before your captured mind.

When your feet are solid rooted in the eternal moment of Love,

you may consider the mystic word, Above.

The paradigm of the pharmaceutical experiment

started with measuring the skull, the average of things,

the family names and numbers

my nose is too large to fit in such a philosophy

I grew up to be a virus, a parasite to reveal the usual suspects

of endless desire, wondering in the belly of the beast

my structure is bleeding in the back of the streets

heavy metals in my breath

the tree of knowledge genetically manipulated to measure up

to the monetary whims,

dying in the soft skin of a natural beat

no more substance in the fruit of plenty

the University specialised in juggling with thirty silver coins.

The frontline is crying in easy patterns,

always pointing to it’s own illusion,

we are One!