what to think and when

It is not so
much of what they speak
that matters
but that witch
they do not
speak of

that unspoken ghost
of a presence
that thrives  in
the back alleys
of the unconscious
mind

that entity
of pure animal
instinct
encaged
by the doctrines
of human life

that mad
and malevolent
beast of untamed
spirit
that yearns
to be released
to satisfy
its unnerving
hunger

lost and fond

He was out of his mind
looking for himself
in the mirror of oblivion
when he noticed
a crack in the
odd surface
from wich
obscure lights
leaked
playing
tricks
on his imagination
like a wizard
and made him
speak greek
in tongues


he went out of his mind
in an attempt to rid
himself of a feeling
of not being
himself
at all
but rather someone
alltogether
different
and most oddly
so

and he succeeded
by doing
the opposite
of what normally
would have been
the way to go
about it

today he enjoys
riding horses and writing
books in his
free time
while memories
of his past
excursions
out of his mind
keeps repeating
themselves like
old super 8
movies
knittering
and flickering
upon a black
and white
screen
of memories

backdoor of the mind

In his dream he was elevated to the top of his own head
and was shown a backdoor
where people entered with no questions asked.

 He yelled at them
and they started running in all
directions


he saw them try
to enter his ears
and nose
but he yelled at them
again from above
and they fleed
like stung bees


 he soon found
himself running around
on top of his own
head yelling
while
keeping these
uninvited people
from entering
and then he woke
up exhausted & soaked in
sweat.





  

Fire&Water

mY brain is on fire
& the word is hot
and the message
is a burning
flame
thereof

mY  head
reaches for the sky
in a childish
rapture
of excitement
and wonder

thats when
it happens
thats when
everything falls
into place
&
when the moment
is ripe
 the flower
of mY expectations
bloom
unexpectantly
and to mY
uttermost joy

thats what
all happenings
are made of
this energy
of opportunity
released &
comes into play
like an innocent babe
in the sun

like the dream of summer
that returns every year
with the same colourful
landscape of breathtaking beauty
and  magical mystery

this is a sweet memory
of summer left
as a reminder
of the magic
when birds sing all
day long
with flies accompanying
with their buzz
and hum

when  Datura
is growing
in her pot

when my 1001
tics have been
screwed

when the 10
little kittens
have their first
summer on

and im typing
this in a
serene state of
gratefulness
mixed with
a drop
tranquility

+Rucksack+

I hear ya breathin
through the trees
like  a breeze
on the ocean

I hear yer haunted pirate ship
named
O`Malley
sail on the winds
through the ol` valley

I know yer there
with yer breathin
and yer birdy festivals
of summers song

Aye,and verily

I hear thee
meditate upon
and within
these very
words!


yer  there
and there ye are


and no other place
art ye


and who with doubts
should suffer
that this be not so
the very  truth from
the mouth of the master
whos heart purified
dwells in the child
of light forevermore:



let him be loved
for his mindlessness
and lifted by hands
unto the highest

let him be wakened
by his slumber
in the love
of the spirit

and set free

for in the land
of the free
there canst be
only that
wich flyeth
with the heart
in hand

that wich
doth not
envelope
yet contains
by the release
&  surrender
to the air
wich carries
the fluege
and marries
it to the freedom
of the sky 


o`there is the word
and the word thereof
and there are
sounds of animals
the rain
typing fingers
and a feeling
of being watched
by the eye
of the lord
who sees everything
and doth not
have an eyelid

for it be such an eye
that never sleeps
nor laughs or weeps
but clearly and lovingly sees
all and everything
without judgement

+Neber+

Be thou not
greedy upon
that table of delight
or thou shalt
suredly fall
therefrom
and
feel the
unloving harshness
of the concrete
floor

Be thou not
anxious for
that witch thou
cannot see
but wich lurketh
secretly
in the back of mind

but summon that
and be thou one
with this

for then canst thou
not miss
and thy fortunes
will delight

move thou
amidst the ones
of shadow and night
&
dance thou
amidst the non ones
who art not there
anymore
but over
here
in a state
of  tranquility
and innermost
rest

bridge the gap
then
and thou shalt
be lifted
&
thou shalt
be gifted
with second sight
and more
in a book
to  follow

but now
is the law
of time
and this
is forever
the moment
of creation

this is thou
as thou knoweth
thyself in a dream
and now
that thou art
seated
nay bedded
in
thy mind :

this is the last
and the first
and that is the
second time
i refer to
it

like a watch
gone weary
from too many
rounds in the
circle of time

yet with a humour
somewhere hidden
among the rather
sour and resentful
words and ideas
scribbled with tall
expression  of  simple
fun and  easy-giggles

a humour intended
not to be revealed
but rather discovered
by cavemens
and archeologists
in search of
the lost dome

So

Pietre,Monique and Vlaine

Be not greedy
upon that feast
of day
and thou shalt
endure & be
married with
the beauty of night

be thou not blind
and deaf
to the visits
of the high gods
but listen
to them
that journeyeth
beyond the veils
of space and time

a pleasing
of the high gods
is he who with genius
arrange his temple
according to  space

for there are
that wich is enourmous
and there is
that wich is small
like mice
inside the wall
or moths
obscuring the light
with their idle
dance

understand
and divide
not the united
pair of one
who where never
two but one
in many
yet never understood
by the likes
of the ignorant
man

dance along
that bungy highway
for the music
is there and the
songs are sung
by those who
dare



Be thou not greedy
and release thy
scornful vengeance
upon  that embalming fire
of transmutation

for then thou
will know
that knowing
thyself
is better than
trying to under-stand
something that does not
really approve of  being
under-stood

then thou will
know the bird
and then bird
will know thee
and the two of you
will sing the same
song and there will
be other birds
who catch up
and soon you
have the whole
forest singing
the same melody
in different tunes
        ~

+signas+

Not before long
stood he gazing
upon marvels
of his
minds
projection
unfolding
enveloping
 execreting
beautific
awe &
bliss


there was no
question about it
no commas
or  goose eye
but there was
indeed
a familiar scent
likened perhaps
to an iced banana
with dips
of croatian mint



picturesque  memories
appeared to haunt
him with details of
joy and tainted
sorrows
summoning
mysterious
presence
of more
ancient times

&  in his
minds eye
he could
see
another
eye
looking
back
in
a
peaceful
and
reassuring
way

and that
was when he
tasted the flesh
of the gods
&
swallowed
once
and three times
the flesh of the gods
and he was
fed thereupon
by wonder
and bliss

ay,by wonder
and bliss

&

there was no
question about
it
no dotted
lines or colourful
clowns
but a perfect
shiny golden
triangle
about that
most sacred
vision of
the
eye



and then he
knew

and that
was when
he did
know

that
he did
knowest
nothing



a mysterious
void engulfed
all that he
once
where and
all that he
would ever
become


there was no
more of him
and he was
not there
anymore

and then
the writing
on the wall
would cease
followed shortly
by a blank
obscuring
screen of white
whereupon
symbols
no longer
appeared
from someone
whos someone
else in another
story all together

there was no
longer any
question about it
but a reassured
spectre of eyes
appearing softly
upon the velvet
arena of lucid mind

filling the void
with divine
love

amoun
   +

amoun
  +

the angels sing

and that is

the miracle

of hearing


&


this

is the miracle

and the

magical mystery

of seeing

~

this is

the soft utterings

of the infant

in its first days

of play with the universe

~

this is the rock

hammer voice

of rugged mountains

where only the horned

goats doth climb

in eager pursuit

of that wich is ever

higher

~

this

is the exorcism

of the demon who

calls himself by many a name

and moveth  through life

in many a guise

& this is

the summoning

of that  same

the very calling upon

the ancient one

who doth dwell

in the habits of quiet

ordinary men

& this

is the verse of

automatic poetry

gone manual

by an incident of pride

before genius

wich oft  ruins

that good  artist

leaving him

surely drained at the edges

and torn by

the limbs



this is the love

wich grew wings

on its own two

feet and strolled

the air like any

old fashioned

cloud

on a blue summers

sky



this is the dance

of the martyr

upon the symbol

of rest in

the city of sokrates

and his lessons

in speaking

the words

that are not words

and singing

the songs that

are not songs

but

divine messages

to be heard

by that one  eye

and seen

with that

one ear

wich is two

in one