Prison break beyond the mind

Sea of possibility
the Innocent One
beyond time and space,
Peace
the state of being,
always here and now.

Find the connection again and again,
it always is, was and will be.

We can’t put paradise
in a sentence.

Awareness is love,
love is awareness.

The edges scream

Horns whispering through the beat,
keep the fire burning
the Garden is breathing underneath,
a magic touch you can’t repeat.

The substance has shaken
her uncertain hand,
the borderline
tore her dance to small pieces
everything looks divided
for the untrained eye
walls are always crumbling,
the sun came through
a long time before your reckless stumbling.

Wires infront of the Sun

Sunny side up,
undivided awareness
the eye
of the storm,
the silence
of all sounds.

With our so called ‘genius’
we’re trying to heal the world
with a chemical substance
and called it our creation,
at the same time, the stuff
is infecting the very essence
of the source.

Can One split it into heaven and hell ?

It’s fragile.

Joy and pain
the inner desire,
you are no body, no thinking,
no feeling, no act,
put of these masks and be.

The dealer wants you to play along with the program,
freedom is dangerous in a small world,
the factory has to keep on burning,
nowadays with a ultra modern image
it really looks like environmental progression,
the green deal,
same old stuff, same old crap!

Much to learn in the depth of an eternal moment.

Egghead twisted in the wires

Realization to open
….windows.
The one that is searching
has to be found.

No one in this universe
ever found an Ego,
although the limitation
is all around.

Who stole those wonderful
ice mountains last week ?

Butterfly through the mirror machine

New updated edition,
the ancestral trying.

As you sow, so you shall reap.

The acceptance of consequences
in the fruitful Garden beside the Fire.

From chaos and inertia
descended into matter,
matter dancing in the universe
of light and dark,
the interpretation
just a memory.

The butterflies flutter tender
through the borders,
the movement is infinite.
The source of intention
is Love, the inner Goddess.

The pyramid scale, a bird in the wires

"Nothing is good or bad
but thinking makes it so. "
Shakespeare

"Ask, and it shall be given...
seek, and ye shall find;
knock, and it shall be opened unto you:
For every one that asketh recieveth;
and he that seeketh findeth;
and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
Therefore all things whatsoever
ye would that men should do to you,
do ye even so to them;
for this is the law and the prophets.

Ye have heard that it hath been said,
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth:
But I say unto you,
That ye resist not evil:
but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek,
turn to him the other also.

Blessed are the meek:
for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers:
for they shall be called the children of God.

Here and Now, the infinite eternal moment
Be, I am that I am

(being awareness beatitude)
Sometimes it's called Love
transcend the battlefield (duality)
God is Love
Love is God.

Dizzy deoxyribonucleic acid

The Mirrormachine
found the dream again
and made a connection
in the wireless substance,
the substructure
needs no company,
no boardroom,
no captains of industry.

Submit to the inner source,
it’s a crazy little thing
called Love.

The subliminal One
joyfully dancing in the protoplasm
of the virgin forest.

By order of authority
you have to be free
to comprehend,
watch the conception of the egghead
and the mongrel market,
they want to drive extremely fast
on mystical water.

Dizzy deoxyribonucleic acid
accepting the infinite structure
in a blue crystal ball.

The Wise are strolling
blissful beyond
the labyrinth of light and dark,
pointing their gentle fingers
at your desiring heart
to come back home.

The understanding to Wonder

Smile today,
she's dancing
in her yellow dress.



The measures are bright !

Sugar got a long way to get you through

Wisdom is to know
that you’re nothing,
Love is to know
you’re everything.

So sweet.

Purple heart of a butterfly

A generation
with X-ray visions
decorated with purple hearts
from the butterfly movement,
dreaming devotional
inside the open gates of the blue Mother.

The red ants consuming plastic,
the wires are shaking
rolling stones kept tumbling
when they moved freely through muddy waters.

The beats hit the Elysium
and grinned around the smoke,
the mirror machine gets overheated
in the pastoral scent of passion
beside the highway of illusion.

The scanning is complete,
there is nothing to search for,
beside the Self, the open source
let it Be.

A Mirage

The bear broke through
in oil concessions,
dealing fear
in the monetary maze.

I have tasted their crawling
in the torturing flames,
the war lords are dreaming
in their satellite constructions
of agony and pain.
The ancient books proclaiming:
“turn the other cheek.”
One the magic number!
The source is always free.

The dragon had his illusionary victory
with a broken spear of destiny,
and forgot about the infinite measures
of eternity.

More crap to buy
on every corner.

The big connection number nine

in seven steps


Playfull penetration on an Olympic field,
my balls are bigger and carried fire
when I'm laughing the Tibetan way.

Devotional faith inside awareness

The oak tree in the cherry season
smiling back at you,
with a heart around the Sun
the stars are dreaming free
in her complex agony,
the Earth is carrying it so gracefully,
reflecting a temple flying high
in disproportional catatonic greed.

You can’t teach manners
when you haven’t got them
completely back,
it’s a crazy little thing
called Love,
inside,
nothing to gain,
just be
the bliss, the beatitude
beyond the mind
of the meek,
the silence
the infinite sounds
of dark and light
the eternal heartbeat,
here and now.

The first civilization still ahead,
the next prophetess coughing blood
in her celestial bed.

Who is it that is searching there
inside these silly reflections of the mirror machine?
I thought I heard you calling
through the wires of the web.

Searching became an industry.

The honeybee

A big problem for a new world order
(the harmony of natural chaos inside their conspiracy)
-part one-

Impotent lizards
trying to steal our children’s heart
in the essence of the seed,
the only thing to gain
is a little bit of our mystical love.
Our elemental souls
will swallow their Universe completely
in the source of this wicked dream.
No grain of sand to be left behind
in our eternal presence.
I got my teeth
in your bitter tail,
mister president.
My death surprised you a long time ago,
didn’t you know I have made you a space to play in
a labyrinth to gaze behind the mask of the dark one.

My manipulation have send you a mirrormachine again
with illusionary wires,
parts from a Garden you’re longing for to experience.
What do you have to leave behind,
when you are hoping to get
through this mortal Gate?

-part two-
The drone is humming
in strawberry fields
with whipped cream
and narcoleptic essence,
practical progression on cloud nine.
An experience
deep inside the infinite moment.
The work already has been done
a long time ago.
Take off the veils
and dance around the magical Sun,
the nerves are craving for light.

Thin white smog

Ocean bite

the roads are leading back to you,

plastic numbers in the third eye

the form is standard with digital precision

the soul is getting blur

the stench is audible in the garden

the formulation epidemic waste.

Thin white smog

in meditation.

Electronic waste in the wires

Electronic waste
digital poetry of the elite
is burned by little boys,
no time to play.
The rivers are dead
and beautiful lungs are crying
and fighting for breath,
lost in the wires of the mirror
machine.


Multinational calculation
will it be strange
when the director of the board
is getting behind?

Temple construction number seven

Whatever you are bringing in,

it will come back to the source,

the One inside

the cosmic measures,

child under the Sun.

The bright birds

are hungry to sing

in a virgin morning

in pentatonic scales

beyond the blue bridge,

so tired of waiting

inside your mistic mist,

you always knew the sound

of my silence,

the fruitbearing song of my horns.

Literal Virtue, the natural thing

Lonely walks
through the dark streets
of desire,
with everlasting love inside.
Lonely thoughts
inside the wires
blending with the mystic warmth,
the transcendental light.
The Mirrormachine is holding on
to the breath we share,
staying just a little longer
to light the fuse of a snakes pit,
with digital precision
and an electronic smile
in centre of the heart.

From an ancient path some dynamical dust,
it’s dwelling on the shelves of the library
the labyrinth of quotation .
The seven deathly sins,
when natural consciousness is gone
into the illusion of things.
Lust
Gluttony
Greed
Sloth
Wrath
Envy
Pride

Wisdom to ask who am I ?
Justice for all
Sobriety, you are more than enough
I am, the reflection of I
Strength and acceptance without time and space
Trust (faith) the experience of the One
Hope to find yourself, the source of everyone
Without Love every rule is part of the tyranny(oppression)
charity, sharing bread and wine,
it is found by eternal giving,
the open mystery
without a beginning or an end(the paradox of thinking)
the heavenly elements
inside the silence of the Garden,
this crazy little paradise called love.

Twinkle, Twinkle, little star

You are what you need
from this cosmic measures
called Earth.

Sometimes a fake smile of weakness
straight from the pill factory,
chemical manipulation
by the bloodstained hands
of the gambling scientists
looking for a strange kind of glory.
A vision of accidental implosions
in the valley of tears,
a hermetic stairway
to illusionary substance.

In the meantime the lily is blooming
in total ecstasy in the tortured fields,
right before your broken eyes.

A pound of comedy dynamite
shaking the elements inside an awoken laughter,
twinkle, twinkle, little star, shine!

Roaring laughter is keeping it straight

Five steps on the leaf
near the mill,
the stone fell near the latest bill
beneath my crossed eyed axis inside.



The arrangement of the rainbow field
was sold to build an economic maze
for the dazzled and blind.
The one eyed is director of the boardroom
and drinks my wine and tells me to stop smoking.


Standing my ground
in this naked call
No chains are strong enough
to hold the source of love.
( Freakin' surrealistic with Dali in graceful meditation)
keep your apocalyptical dreams out of my face,
not hate but fear is the opposite of Love.

The profundity of the silence

Carry it softly
beside the riverbanks of the living water,
beyond the logics of the half truths.
Carry it to the depth
of the wordless silence inside

the streams of realization,
dedicate it to the mystery
the love you always have been
without a beginning or an end.
The wise endure the internal conflict
the battlefield and go beyond to keep balance,
the reflection of the One
without the two headed dog.

The Fool jumps blissful
from the twin tower
and puts the dreaming King
in a wild perspective,
the golden coffin is laid out
beside the old oak,
unspeakable like the unborn state.

It whispers near the pure roots
of the rainbow diction of the ancient faith.

Nearly a perfect circle behind the leaf

Figure it out !

The big picture of pride inside the high mass

The fig leaf fell from the poem,
the naked question of paradise.
The Garden is melting down
in neo-narcissistic chemical measures
in this eternal moment right now.

Globalization in the flame
the thick energy of the fallen angels
(an image in the mirrormachine of awareness)
leading a opportunistic mass
to move a little bit faster
deep inside the exciting illusion
of security.

The magic child is
blooming in the fields of joy
against all odds
in these crying rainbows
behind the soul.

Raindrops inside the room

Heart beside the elevating corner,

the warm breeze from inside.

Now that you found the Funk

you got to sing your own mystery.

Strolling through the garden in easy patterns

The long grass is waiting in the fire
your warm touch is holding it together,
in my sweet moments of awareness
you are always there,
unexplainable open and free inside
the breath of the One that is
always now.

The Master through the nerves

The Mystic Rose inside the enlightenment tube
(the infinite drop an ocean)
“Do you remember when we used to sing”
in the pure mystic meadow,
the long grass graving for Love
the dancers lost within.
The elemental tunes eternal
the soul of the temple Rose in between,
the timeless void of creation, ecstatic in the cosmic green,
wild rivers calling to come back home to the garden,
nothing is lost !



“Do you remember when we used to sing”
the powerful beat of the silence
going through the warmth of the blooming trees
the breeze blew away so many veils
the mothership of the heart
that landed in the dept of the immanent ocean.



“Do you remember when we used to sing”
without the complexity of secrets
and the bedtime stories of our ancient family lines,
together, I.
( Who is lost in the multi-media system ? What’s new ? )

Noble sense in a framework

A tiny elemental fragment
got beyond the battlefields.

He broke the glass
in ecstatic measures of desire.

Wordless manifestations
breathe in and out.

Illusion beyond the purple flower

Poetic Reality

Digesting an African cow,
slaughtered two years ago,
smoking fibreglass leaves
in great disbelieve,
driving through petrochemical caves
in the penetrated fragile garden.
Walking in a material dream,
with a greasy heart.
Laughing in the mirror against
the first part of the carved number
on my forehead,
the manipulating code isn’t working
in the deeper streams of the infinite ocean.