Fair Trade

"How could a man take such a fall?"

In the backstreets again

God is raping a child
in a revolutionary state of mind,
out of kindness I suppose.
The evolution crushing against

the borderlines in an open universe.

Fruitful Garden

There’s a hole in the mountain
bitter poison is screaming through the cracks,
the engines are humming much too loud,
the noise nearly changed the whispers
of the wise.

Going back to the Woods,
the clouds are blooming.

Street Level, yellow bricks

The dark shadow in silence

through the fragile wind
the open space is dancing softly
playing like a wondering child,

it goes along with my slow breathing
and falls faithfully into the wild moment
deep inside the wisdom, without time,
without me, without you.

No more words to proclaim for a while

the soapbox is tumbling from the mountain dream

in an empty sentence.

The Wizzard knows the garden very well

Dancing to forget
the raging sorrow the restless moves,
earth nearly lost her beat.
Biochemical dust and acid rain
invading our system,
a pandemonium of fear is crawling and screaming
inside our crystal hearts.
The mirrors confronting the darkness,
breathing sweet whispers of love
to wake awareness and tell it to come home
to this fruitful garden made of bliss,
the source goes beyond imagination
with natural devotion, some call it the Wiz.