Paper-thin Illusion

The hillside an old quiet poem
sharing a space in the heart,
leaving my body behind
in the eternal moment
innocent and open.

Nothing can hold you from the One
that you are,
in this borderless construction.

Transit

A schizophrenic crash,
a trembling finger pointing
to the source,
the big drums rumble,
the green walls are shaking
a new implosion in a common place,
mercy on us all
when darkness calls in digital
madness.
See through the mirror machine,
the grand reflection.

The doors are open,
the hills are in bloom
and is waiting for a large donation
to get things done.

Sunmachine is coming down

The hollow shells
the house of bones,
hypocrisy, decay and death.

Sunmachine is coming down,
the glorious chariots of fire.

Another Song For The Captured

This mortal phantoms in the dark,
longing for the light.
Black clouds in a dream,
sweating and nervous.
Airplanes roaring over the roof,
dropping angelic bombs,
the walls collapse in illuminated
pictures.
The machines are bleeding
in the morning Sun,
warm bodies shine
the flesh is trembling
in a joyful eye.
A miracle of imagination
in the arms of Love.

He Who Goes Upstream

'When it gets to the heart,
you are born to sing.'

You are a King or a Queen
when you get out 
the king and queen
in everybody!

Echo Intensified

On the storm they rise,
flying an invisible course,
gathering nothing.
Inside
like a bird,
limitless and free.
The secrets of the Garden
here and now,
innocent like a child,
playfull in the new morning,
our tormented soul can not hide
for our inner light.

The masters still wonder
in the magic ocean of love,
the learning is eternal.

I heared a dove speak to me

The wild bread in the fire,
water turned into wine.
The blind still running around,
twisted tongues
in dualistic measures,
the cold flame
is creating a weapon
to let us get lost in a black hole.
The Angels whisper in an open heart,
and the howling Gods
are turning illuminated elements
into solid Gold.
The waves are calling,
it's time to come home
to the forest, our blue paradise.

The Last Flight Before Tomorrow

Lightning and mermaids,

fright trashing the worms

into thick cosmic soup,

the porcelain smile

brings the fertility

to a mad chaotic overview.

Deep silence is raging inside

the burnt-out lines,

the fragile nakedness settles down

just near the lights

of the empty bottle,

the grease of the meadow

screams holy in the night.