Electronic Fog

It’s sad to be lost in the mirror machine again
a digital illusion, manipulated electronic fog
from the longing memory,
the memory that wants to come home,
no more labyrinths of fear to confront
the energy that can swallow the universe of dreams.

But true fortune can never be touched
the source inside the infinite awareness
the immanent manifestation of I,
we should be free
if not your in a crisis.
You really are a crazy thing called Love
if you look at it from a divine perspective
you got to keep on dancing in the streets
throw your software package on the ground
and stamp your feet on this solid Earth,
the mothership is sailing inside the elemental dust
this is the paradise your breathing in right here right now.

Celebrate the path of those worn out recordings
let the ancestral wisdom call out through your voice
can't you hear those magnificent songs of the mother
be here in the magnetic forest of love
(let it be completely alive,
it’s nearly too unbearable deep inside
this ability to response)
Why don’t we do it on the road, Queen Wiggle ?

Sunny side Up

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

Who blew me up?

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.

High resonance of the solid ground

Blue star stone free

the silence between the words

is changing ground control

the frequency is deeper than expected.

The Fire Inside, the end of a tail

Sweet wine

The celebration is about to begin

the mystery in the lucid winds, the veils are broken

the door is open

On and on

Perpetual song, the seasons change

Redundancy of the free children

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.

Father cut off my head

The Days of broken glass again,

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 London Town,

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.

Back on top

The April fools are dancing in the free infinite,

jumping from the top of the mountain in elevating ecstasy,

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.

Exactly like you

I’m into something a shakedown in circular movements.

“Mister big stuff, who do you think you are?”

All roads are leading to the Mountain Dream,

Heart is travelling to share.

Yellow flower, the horns will whisper

a pure song, the moment you awake.

Choose well, Aurora of the morning Sun

the roads are leading back to you.

Come Home number nine

A inner embrace with confidence and grace.

It could bring you back to a divine source in total surprise,

the mystery,

you are that,

your uprising will be a crazy little thing called love

with infinite measures, the cosmic scale.

The fifth element of the rainbow is light,

the illusion of time, the infected memory of the mind.

Through space the connection can not be broken

you are the One, always

the One that is.

The Mirror Machine is empty

with uncountable evolving manifestations to evoke.

The Space Invaders

Ghost is whispering through solid understanding,

the spy in the dark cave is twisted in my divine illusion

behind his fearful spineless back, I’m standing my ground

the infinite circle.

I’m blowing softly in the pale colours of his neck

to make it clear again to come back home,

hoping he still knows how to fall with some dignity,

with grace

his weak knees ready to bend.

He will start crying, begging for forgiveness,

no method could give you that.

(Some victims are aware of this trying in vain

from the beginning of time).

You could know that I’m untouchable

many experienced paths of enlightenment

to prove it, your context failed, there is no free market,

I’ve got your Soul

under consideration and I’ll give it back in time.

Your pimped up throne is made of high-tech frustration

worthless plastic dust,

you are just too late to indicate this natural source

that got you now.

(I could force you to be free).

The Mirrormachine reflecting every element

back to your burning desire

and knows very well you’re an ignorant fool,

but not the only one.

To all the leaders of the world,

Ask Help! Your frequency is underneath the standard nature

Your in the underground right here, right now!

(It’s a terrible sight to see your heart disintegrate

to become infected dust between the cosmic pages

of our universal library of Love).

What can you hide?

Triangle is waiting

in snake skin moments beside the river bank,

her bright eyes are moving inside the dark room

breathing in the structure of your chains,

the light is playing with the shadow in the purple cave,

the fields are still blooming in the silence of your heart.

What can you hide?

The chicken or the Egg

What if a Master said?" You are wrong!"

The Response of reality

Divine wisdom
the gift
Sweet Love ecstatic bliss,
I surrender.

Cosmic orgasme in flower motive

Genetic manipulated
beans, beacon and gravy.

The butterfly movement
transcending a crisis by sharing bread and wine
in the rainbow garden of love.

The 5th Sun in fire breathing

The fifth Sun beyond the mountain

the battle inside the bright morning dew

the divine breathing sustaining the elements

in surrealistic reality,

the child is dancing ecstatically

in complete surprise,

the mystery.

Burning bush

Going against the grain in a few small steps
everyone is everyone.

The fool on the hill and a monkey flashback
the purple eye is shining in these lucid dreams.
' Darkness is made out of light '.

Where did the colours came from eternal One?

It's Crab

A broad shape of self-interest deprives it into a fearful limitation

after a gold rush some stole from their own essence

and burned this inner Garden to the ground.

Four red eyes, it’s crap.

From the cradle to the grave

in a limited edition.

Home coming

The point of experience
deep inside the bright room of your Heart

The marvellous consumption in our plastic dreams

Temple doors on the crossroad

Be a carpenter and create an easy chair

with colourful structures of experience

and start your meditation,

it’s a divine craft to be free and human

to understand the mysterious seasons again.

Wide open universe construction

But the gluttonous monsters

are still masters with a disputable degree

from the universities of corruption,

still directing the boardroom of the corporation,

managing our marvellous consumption

in our plastic dreams of broken desire.

The pale earth is moaning softly in a sweet silence.

New season in pink frustration

Plant a tree! Let it grow!

And bloom, spread your holy scent of love, be open again

you’re a universe of euphoria,

the deepest source of the infinite Garden

is I.

Part of you, part of me

The mirror machine
to create the intrinsic power
the energy for levitation through the timeless state
sharing the knowledge of love
in the dualistic warfare,
the arrogance of our reckless minds.

Your heart is in a crisis now for much too long!
Laughter is bursting through, beyond the elemental
measures inside the blue Garden of our living water.

The mystic temple

The tracks in the dessert sand are leading to
a spoonful of dust

The Quest inside the cosmic measures

Confidence the middle path

the crossroad on the Highway the infinite here the eternal now.

Always expecting the seasons to change.

It’s nearly Eastern time,

the inner source is Love, everything included.

It’s a grey day,

the wind and the drizzling rain are still going through

the empty branches,

I’m aware of it, without a hermetic conclusion,

It’s open, It’s alive.

You are Love, the creation, the true nature,

without a beginning or an end.

Love is the answer and it is the question too

(the word is not the thing, the sentence

just a way to get inside the silent source)

Still paying too much rent

The corporate men of clay made billons by stealing and dealing

the warm roots of the earth and build his castles of concrete brands

some tell you with dead in their eyes that you are in a crisis.

It’s time to be a timeless creator and share the dreams of love

in the lost temples of art,

dancing this song of the wild to live from the free wind

with our butterfly wings time the grow with the Sun

in the morning dew,

time to lift some PURE water to the well.

I’ve made a big blue balloon

to play with in the infinite Garden, it can fly very slowly.

(if you need help ask the mirrormachine, beautiful reflection)

Bliss you can't miss

Back into the mystic woods the light of the Sun

got through the dew extremely bright,

the western swindle

will vaporize.

Love transcending the contradictions of life,

they disappear into the eternal Garden again.

The harmonious circumstances on Earth

are still there beyond the pride in our creations of lust,

ready for an righteous evolution inside the infinite One

The first words of experience

The Tree of the Knowledge of good and bad, light and dark
the dualistic battlefield of the mind,
let it be.
Be Aware like a complete naked stardust child again.
An innocent manifestation made from the red earth,
evolved from the source, this heavenly breathing
called Love
male and female, close to the bone,
the mindless stage is Paradise, the eternal moment,
the Garden of life.

Dust will be dust again
when you don't know what-- It --is.
In the land of Nod.The planet of desire,
the world of rovers.

Who is searching now?

Rage against the mirrormachine

Swallowing the Earth in bittersweet poems

the hole in this structure got water wings

the soft lines got terribly bored of fighting against

your will to think things over and over

again and again.

The profound universe of song

Her reflection goes beyond belief, it’s a certain kind of knowing

the contrast the Illusion in this profound unity.

The train of thought just a movement from the cosmic field of memory,

in silence it becomes the mystery,

the infinite Garden of Love.