REFLECTIONS

OF
INSANITY
REFLECTIONS
OF
INSANITY

By

Martin Tobias Lithner

Martin Tobias Lithner:

Reflections of Insanity (2011, 2012, 2020)

Ljus ur Intet (2012)
Trappsteg (2012)
The Illuminated Bile (2014, 2020)
Transparent Sfär & Grön Kvadrat (2014, 2020)
Avart (2015)
Lithner: Utvalda Svenska Dikter (2015, 2020)
Retro (2015, 2019)
Vishetens Käkben (2017)
Mästaren av Flux: Högt Spel i Aberdon (2018)
Super Retro:Id (2019)
Läppstiftets Röda Rand (2020)

Copyright © Martin Tobias Lithner 2011, 2012, 2020

Martin Tobias Lithner has asserted his right under the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as
the author of this work.

LEGAL NOTICE

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

in any form without written permission from the author,
except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a
review to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.

Library of Congress Control Number (2011): 2011941981

First edition published 2011 by Deer Run Press

Second edition published 2012 by Lapis Philosophorum

Revised Third Edition (2020)

“There's a fine line between genius and insanity.
I have erased this line.”

- Oscar Levant
 PHANTASIAS

The lazy fat sun rose over

the city’s towers & pinnacles.

Lose yourself in the

shower of sparks.

Our minds are bombarded

by impressions, distractions,

Phantasias,
forgotten arts.

Wounded as we embraced
the sun, our naked existence.
 BILLIONS OF STRIDES

Billions of strides streams.

The implied determinism
& expressed probabilities.

The logic model prevails.

Reconstruct the laws of
physics & let them rhyme.

Functions can be reduced.

Formalism & sentential
logic rules our versatility.

Beyond narrow definitions.

Six Sigma reliabilities &
shortcut premonitions.
 PROGRESSION

Western thought caught

inside the expanding nebula.
Let’s separate the elements,
myth & rational arguments.

Let’s make the unfamiliar

more familiar, manageable.
Anachronistic interpretations
& classifications.

A pre-Socratic temptation.
Development, a progression
from myth to logos.
Approach modern ideals.
 EXPLAINED & UNTAMED

The flora of anecdotes.

Rich and lush it grows
around the ancient men.
Their written quotes.

A happy coincidence.
A solar eclipse.
Battle interrupted by
a celestial phenomena.

An ingenious geometer.
Measure of pyramids
& its shadow, dividing
the year into days.

Viewer of the most

exalted, heaven & its
eternal stars.
Principles paraphrased.

Water is the divine.

A claim that might
seem preposterous,
explained & untamed.
 CIRCUMFERENCE

The two headed dragon

spew ash over lush
meadows & fire upon
the place for my grave.

They were punctual in

their hatred, gathered
to urinate on the mark
of my eternal rest.

No flowers will grow

upon this salted dirt.
No children will sing
for the mangy raven.

I’ve been left alone

in a perpetual shadow.
A perfect circumference,
but now, there’s light.
 THE OUTSPOKEN INTROVERT

Released by a simple word,

are you still not amused?
In search of the outspoken
introvert, are we being
born to be mental, unused?

The cognitive architect.

What will he find when
our synapses connect?
Neurons of awesome
effect, insight & intellect.

We need to be awake in
our dreams, not to get our
thoughts caught in strange
puzzlement, headstrong
we proceed, the resistant.

We are born to be brilliant.

A statement long forgotten.
The overhyped subjugates,
watching the cognitive
revolution.

It awaits,
those who awake.
THE INTERNAL REFLECTION

A total internal reflection.

To become the medium,
the critical angle.
Sharp are the boundaries
between us, in our chase
towards perfection.

How diffuse can we become?

No longer recognizable,
dimmed & gruesome.
Like wasted diamonds
out of reach, left to be
forgotten, on shelves.

Manipulate the rays of

light, make them favor us.
Once more valuable,
once more bright.
To be the summation,
malleable.

Will we shine forever?

Illuminate our modest abode.
Will we become brighter
than the stars above?
Brighter than our own
reflection.
 EPITAPHS

The dead they sleep.

Epitaphs.
Stagnant ghosts.
Ghouls.

Seven stages of grief.

Photographs.
Stained testament.
Fools.
 KING OF JUDAH

Behold the King of Judah,

worshipper of As-Salam.
You will not shed blood
by his hand.

March with him against

the hordes of Babylon
& into the gate of god.

Our world is ruled by flux,

failed worship & idolatry.
Await trembling grounds,
await burning skies.

Within crumbling walls,

have we drawn down the
anger of Yahweh?

Holy men shaking in their

sacred shrines, arisen from
deep sleep, theorize with
passion about celestial wrath.
 THE HELLENIC SUNSET

Depicted as the symbolic

center of the universe.
She cried of his sheer
beauty, as he reflected
flames upon the tear
filled sea.

Symbolize royal power

& royal splendor.
She turned away to face
darkness, to the night she
surrendered, until the
day dawned again.

At each sunset, she gave

away a bit of her heart.
Her longing for his warm
touch was consumed by
her fear for the soul
corrosive night.

A tug of war between this

constant grief over beauty
& the terror at night, made
her thoughts travel faster
than the speed of light.
To view a constant sunset.
 DIVINE PROPORTIONS

Outside of the clear

restrictions of the
square, the creative
soul enjoys circular
movements.

Simple fragments of
the whole, God’s true
perfection, above all
judgments & divine
proportions.
 TZOLKIN

Fire represents the

Creator’s energy.
Sacred rites &
burnt body parts.

With her I enjoyed

the mantra of the
untold stories.

Secrets of rebirth
& purity.

Hand in hand we
watched the stone
mason's final blow
with the hammer.

A puzzling mystery.
Beyond the month
they call December.
 BROKEN CHORDS

Metamorphosis long-overdue.
A street bum millionaire.
Hitchhikers on the fifth avenue.

Convicted by false questionnaires.

Threesome with death & agony.
Exchange your moral ideas.

The shaking leaves semiseria.

A burning paradise blues,
our modern life hysteria.

We are mere impulses, seen as

products, objects with cosmetic
mass, single thought arpeggios.

Can we create pleasing melodies?

We need to realize, that we are
nothing more than broken chords.
 PEACE & CONTEMPLATION

Peace & contemplation,

the symbolic mirror,
the reflecting surface.

Transition to the next life.

Waist-high in water we
admired the creation.

What are our purpose?

In how many gods can
we put our trust?

Paradise or incarnation.
 AEOLUS

Aeolus let your winds

free, let them out of
your cave, let them
pollinate & create
balmy spring winds.
 ETHEREAL & FLEETING

Inaccessible ethereal & fleeting.

A bridge to heaven, the caustic
wisdom, at the end there is no
conspicuous treasure of
happiness.

After the narrated flooding.

A sign of a promise appeared.
We will not be destroyed, but
how can this promise be kept?

Rough in need, maltreating.

Living life in a contradiction.
The bending of a bent spine,
regular prescriptions of
madness.
 RED CAP BRAVENESS

Execute the perfect movement.

A matador on the highway of
freedom, dodging velocity
& manmade mass.

Will the flow ever stop?

I wish you the best in life.

Empty wallet and hurtful lies.
How can we reach this freedom
without paying the cost?

Red cap braveness.

Who needs to be brave?
In the third of death,
we ran out of gas & respect.
 THOUSAND BURNING SUNS

Have we been left by the

end of a road, in need
of quantum leaps of faith?
Even the angels of heaven
deliver Euthanasia.

How can we explain love

in the moment of loss?
How can we predict the
future while gazing upon
a thousand burning suns?

Can we find the courage

not to judge our children
through our own dearth?
Can we find inner strength
in a world ruled by fools?

I will never blindly travel

down this broadened road.
I will never see an end,
only a possibility of a still
ride towards the unknown.
 THE DINNER

A dinner for imaginary friends.

They praise the allegory of lost
personifications, dancing death.

I recommend the ruby red wine.

Illustrations of decay & stress.
Servings by chimerical concubines.

Let’s make a toast to the fallen,

the dividend, the jazz funeral,
portrayed angels & the puberal.
 YELLOW LINE EXACTNESS

Monolithic lines of
mass-murderers &
base heads.
Take a step forward.
Long sequences of
numbers, echoing,
yellow line exactness.

Shotguns & opaque

shades.
The diddler got his
back door parole.
Reinforced concrete.
Empty Cadillac’s &
spacious, 6x8 feet.

A faint ray of light

finds its way through
the rusty bars.
The killer cups his
hands, no light will
be wasted.
A life-long reflection.
 ELECTROLYTE NIGHTS

Strange are the days upon us.

A loudness that fills the void.
Mysterious, snapshots, rapid
strings of thoughts.

Strange are the way she leads.

A sunlight shyness, flashbacks.
The paranoid succumbs to the
blackjack, another lap dance?

Strange are my gathered friends.

Strip club patrons, minimal in
their way, minimal in wage, will
they pay, smiling as they ascend.

Strange are the ways we died.

Pale comes death through
disco light, a pale arrival while
they snort the last line.

Strange are our remembrance.

Electrolyte nights that never die.
Hard to comprehend, friends that
spent their lives to offend.
 CHESSBOARDS & JACK STRAWS

Men of the blue

halls prefer to
hear lies from
the angel’s lips
& truth from the
monster’s jaws.

Chessboards &
Jack straws, can
we retain these
relationships?
Can we sustain
this treatment?
 THE CONJURER

The terrible &

consuming fire.
The great destroyer.

The symbol of war

& chaos, the active
& the masculine.

Strong feelings.
A dual nature.
Home & hearth.

With new courage

he conjured a
future in the flames.
 TRANSIENCE OF LIFE

Shrunken heads & the

promoter, crop plants
& the treacherous.

He increased his own

power, the dead man’s
soul is still dangerous.

Contrition, a reminder
of the transience of life.
Thrive by enemy scalps.
 THE COGNITIVE PROW

Idle pleasures & complicated light.

We fold papers & with blindness
we gaze upon the ancient birds.

The time of dying & the culmination.

The rites of passage & the chinless.

Headache mood & the sweet tasting

darkness, anatomy & Greek tragedies.
We are consumed by trivial words.

The time of nativity & the conclusion.

The complex aura & the superficial glow.

Zeitgeist mentalities & bi-polar confusion.

Burning Bible, burning Torah.
I am the cognitive prow,

I cut the sea of thoughts.

SWASTIKA OR THE KNOT

Undersized, a strive to reach

the path of his enlightenment.
He left his footprints for us to
follow, a guide to awareness.

Our feat is too small, we can’t

match his cultivated strides.
Breathless & in belief of our
stupendous pace, we search for
the nexus.

Standing in the middle of the

crossroads, we have to choose
between the swastika or the
knot, to be exultant or
conscientious.
 BLACKENED HALO

On the stony path

she spilled her heart.
In the awesome light
of transforming souls.

She whispered blue

secrets & futuristic lies.
Blind angels carry you
on their broken wings.

Upholder of law, create

my blackened halo.
Burn my soul, burn my
heart to dispersed ash.

I'm a destroyer
of beauty and shape.
A simple god
of unnecessary things.

Will she be forgiving?

 THE HARVEST

Praise me when it rains.

Praised in harvest.
Blessings of the crops
of the starving.
 ASTARTE

The peacock dances before the

rain, before the blessed men.
The acorns must be gathered
before the dawn arrives with day.

The pine cones must be placed

under the women’s pillows.
The hazelnuts must be hanged
in strings to increase fertility.

Overpopulation was no issue

for those worshipping Astarte.
Our modern viability, millions
of souls reaching triple digits.
 JEALOUSY & THE BELLADONNA

Lover’s knot & Russian rings

of trinity, puzzle rings & the
Shiro-Muku kimono.

With bound wrists we are wed.

The tears we shed are not of joy.
Jealousy & the Belladonna.

Intricate patterns decorate

the Indian bride’s hand & feet.
Forced marriages hold no love.

The groomsman & his hematoma.

The bridesmaid & her sooty glove.
A bridal veil dragged in ash & dirt.
 THE POPPY FLOWER

Poppy flower so delicate & tragic.

Sleep, death & the blood of Christ.
Each flower in this wreath, a life.

The wise raven is a contrary of ages.

It gives rebirth to our fallen friends,
in form of memories we once shared.

Let us start with songs of grim sorrow.

Let us conclude with a blue celebration.
There will not be a funeral at sea.
 THE CONFIDANT

In our fear of the unknown.

We have created religions
& populated the universe
with deities of sanctity &
wisdom.

In need of astral guidance

Journey & the life beyond.
Never prosecute those who
invented the divine,
the confidant.
 CHANGE

Still in need of
intermediaries
between himself
& the gods he
once created.

Stimulated &
penetrated.
The virgin bled.
Visited by the
educated.

He dictated
change, & change
came celebrated.
Contemporary
& tolerated.
 FUTURE ODYSSEY

The heavens shall burn

above the wildest breeze.
Love will become thorns,
sharp, suddenly appearing
as currents under the seas.

Grand walls will be built

around our cities, isolated
from nature, animosities.
Human incinerators, is
this our future odyssey?

People monitored from

checkpoint stations, the
decontamination, shot
at first sight of radiation.
The domesticated energy.

Did we really set the

sky on fire?
 A NEW BEGINNING

Sudden as the covered flower,

deep in sleep beneath the snow.
She took her first steps towards
sweet freedom, leaving the long
passed years of social revulsion,
in a cognitive storm of hazy clouds.

Step by step on her painful march.

Already marked by crystals of ice.
Her body was in convulsion when
she surrendered to the imprecise
thought of a new beginning.
A distant life to be lived in paradise.

For the passerby, she was a black

statue of ice, her countenance was
now as smooth as a breathtaking
savannah, in her last seconds of
life, she walked barefoot across a
sun-drenched Masai Mara.
 CHAOS & THE EX NIHILO

Chaos & the ex nihilo.

Clinical & the placebo.
Upon density we gazed.

Proposal of finite & the

imaginary, immersed &
utterly amazed.

No boundary condition.
Pleasing the gods & their
libidos, in this depraved
universe.
 EMERALD OBSIDIANITE

Tell me about magic

& the art of discovery.
Guide me through
fire & endless misery.

Introduce me to the
diffused, the heartless.
Transform me into you,
a “light” in the darkness.

Inside of men, I will

point with my power.
For each minute that
passes, for each hour.

I am the usurper,
an emerald obsidianite.
Capsulated deep inside,
shining with false light.
 THE BENGAL TWILIGHT

Lunatic’s rules the unconquered night.

Cars in rapid movement, a train of light.
Passengers and strangers, different faces.
Preteen wannabe sales an extra ticket.

Green light means speed, left or right?

Indian mobsters await the next wicket.
Cinnamon beauties in religious rites.
Youth to be lost in the Bengal twilight.

The complexity of the vowel changes.

Echoing mantras out over the Ganges.
The day awakes, New Delhi delights.
Lovers caught between dusk & sunrise.
 BIRD OF MYTH

Arise bird of myth.

Universal symbol
of death, arise from
fire & flames.

Arise bird of myth.

Arise from your ashes.
Rebuild your nest of
spice & myrrh.

Arise bird of myth.

The sign of rebirth
& the sun, arise
from your depths.
 IGNITER OF HEARTS

It was something in your smile.

Something in your darkness.
The spark in your eyes, igniter
of hearts, serenity & sadness.

I remember you waving farewell.

Then you were gone, swift as the
summer rain, the cool breeze,
the June wind, memories to be
lost as we age.

Our feelings could not be denied.

Never swept aside, never replaced
by items of luxury or plastic pleasures.
Together we chased butterflies &
went searching for ancient treasures.

We will never again be reconciled.

The summer of loss, childhood tears.
Later defined as the summer of
your smile.
 COGNITIVE DISSONANCE

The twilight’s last gleaming

brought unrestrained ideas.
Naked we run into the sea
Into cognitive dissonance.

Dreaming of the totalitarian

& his black box bureaucracy.
The clash between empirical
& liberal democracy.

To seize the human soul,

to be subordinated.
No longer in control,
suppressed & annihilated.

The twilight’s last gleaming

awoke a clear futuristic view.
Men nodding in shame in
front of the burning cathedral.
 TEARS OF AZURE BLUE

Refine the soul, hurt is mended

with time, she cries tears of azure blue.
Align yourself with the fallen nine.

Woken, only to realize it’s true.

Define the universal prime.
Sublime & direct, as a dying
pantomime.

Anodyne, losing sensitivity.

She is shaking by fear.
Death is served by spoken rhymes.

No longer able to see, talk or hear.

Decline madness, follow the bent line.
She is lost in the Byzantine
borderlands.

Forever above,
forever to shine.
 THE AQUAMARINE

From the river Thames

to the cold North Sea.
She whispered farewell
at Tower Hill.

Teddington Lock and

a boat named Banshee.
Captain Schumann and
hard weathered crewmen,
fathers of parolees.

Onboard, lonely calls from

the caged whippoorwill.
An internal hum,
the engine was awoken.

Stretched over the railing

in hope of a last glimpse.
Will I see her once more?
Will I find the courage to
scream out the unspoken?

As the vessel cuts

through dark water &
seagulls flock offshore.
She was nowhere to be seen.

Does a sailor deserve to get

his heart broken?
Into the cold forgiving
depth, he tossed the
aquamarine.
 THE VELVET HOUR

Pleasures of the velvet hour.

Smooth silk seducing the air.
Visit us in the ivory tower.
Gifts of rubies & silverware.

Beating drums inside the harem.

A scent of lavender fills the air.
Wash off dirt & untold aggression.
Close your eyes, become lost,
unaware.

Light devours all new shadows

inside this secret pleasure sphere.
Women only dressed in chapeaus,
kneeling beneath swaying
chandeliers.

12 maidens for your confession.

A last farewell, a kiss, then solitaire.
The golden haired girl is named
freedom, the black haired girl,
treason.
 ELYSIAN FIELDS

Flowers of the Elysian fields,

dazzle me with your light.
I have kept my oaths,
I have kept my soul clean.

Meet me again my dear brother.

Meet me on the Elysian fields.
Once we fought with swords
& defended ourselves with shields.

Shining trees of Elysium,

my heart has never been tainted.
Lead me to the palace of
Kronos, or into oblivion.

Meet me again my dear brother,

meet me on the Elysian fields.
From old age we will never wither.
Grasp my hand as my body yields.

Peaceful light of Elysium,

in the shade of the mighty poplars.
We will rest upon white asphodels,
remembering wars & coliseums.
 EMPRESS OF INDIA

Beautiful & profound as Euler’s identity.

With impressive steps she sways.
Confident, with heart worn empathy,
sun meets horizon, sky ablaze.

She puts freedom on your shoulders.

Maybe a truth in another era .
Flowers in the helmet of the soldier.
She is to become the empress of India.

She demands the courage of a tiger.

Generals whisper across sunlit rooms:
“Command and conquer, the divider”
The rose of India is about to bloom.
 THE GODDESS

Trapped in this
upstate limbo.
Animals cover
the marble floor.

Pouring dry water

into a wet flower,
a nude goddess
is hard to ignore.

Finally she arrived,

within the blue hour.

She is a religion
at the age of 17.
Her bible got
a glossy cover.

“Tell me more”,
she whispered,
“Tell me all”,
she demanded.
 DEVOURER OF LIGHT

Enchanters of moonlight.
Fireflies swarm of hope.
Gather once more
the separated,
the Nazarite.

I have seen the

devourer
of light.

Reflections of waves,
absent are the shades.
A sunbeam rodeo.
Soft dandelion skin,
velvet hair & eyes.

I have seen the

devourer
of light.
 STASIS

I challenge the waves to welcome stasis

unchanged, as I defeat the rip currents.
Never to become a distorted projection,
or to be formed again, an anamorphosis.

Let me worship the gods of tomorrow.

Never to be swept away by false beliefs.
My prayers are finally answered by
the events of the past.

As I stand confronting darkness,

eye to eye with the false goddess.
The knowledge of you, is the only
thing that will make me last.
 THE FLIGHT

With wings made out

of wax and feathers.
A thematic similarity.

A remainder of failed
ambition, a melan-
cholic melody.

Upon the green waves

of the Aegean sea,
a single feather floated.

A brief visitation of
Hubris, then the tears
from a father, devoted.
MENTAL DISMEMBERMENT

Disappointment in my veins.
Satisfaction inside my heart.
What remains?
Scattered feelings,
to drift apart.

Mental dismemberment.
Ambivalent, conflicts to come.
Pills met with wonderment.
Reality is bleak,
for some.
GEOMETRICAL INCOMPLETENESS

I have lost my
chemical friend.
Together we raced
towards ecstasy.
Who can blame
all those left behind.

Green,
sunken
& depressed

Once praised by
the men of the
yellow circle,
now, only a
geometrical
incompleteness.
An outcast
in the company
of eights.

The snake
that devours itself.
A stretched soul’s
last mistake.
Who among
your friends will
lend their hands.

Hearts,
forever fake.
 ALUMINUM ENHANCED DAYS

It was under the aluminum

enhanced days that our
nights finally died.
I kissed her once more
violently.
It was the moment,
briefly appearing.
Her eyes told me that
divinity could not be
reached through killing:
“You will never gain any
more praised wisdom by
destroying the source,
you will never reach
climax by tasting my lips”
Truth told from a $20
backseat intercourse.

Moaning,
while grasping
the crucifix.
 PURIFIED BY FIRE

I have gathered hypocrites

from all religions, more
or less consciously, this
is his true servants.

Offerings in righteousness.
Who can be righteous?
Offer unto Jehovah
& be purified by fire.
 THIRD EYE OF SHIVA

The third eye of Shiva.

The divine power, the
devastating fire & the
ever so mighty thunder.

What should I do
to obtain this cosmic
intelligence, this
eternally clear insight?

Those named by Rudra

falter, outnumbered
by those who wonder.
Tridents of the rip tide.
 PORN STAR BLUES

They worship the man

with the golden rod,
-Cut.

“We need daylight”

Natural blond in a
naked land.
All ruled by media
demagogues.
Puckering lips,
swaying hips,
primal movement,
tan on a can.
-Retake

“Can you do him again?”

Confused.
Porn star blues.
“Did you mean
the delivery guy
or the businessman?”
 THE ASYLUM

Beat the stairs in a race of

perfection, stop at every
green light and watch the
world go by.

Collect your thoughts

and shrug off the rejection.
You’re a grown man
without a shadow.

Empty,
sharp,
& dry.

Leisure time is for the

ordinary, give me violence.
White rooms, hard floors,
water served as ice.

Nobody in here can hear

your silence, fulfill this
feeling of a brain
totally dense.
 WORDS

Clustering in one-dimensional
space, the race for the next
structural pattern, who amongst
you will surrender to the mind,
surrender to the multiplicity
of concurrent agencies.

Words of great intensity.

A steeplechase to finish first.
Used, a festival for Saturn.
Those standing on stools,
with raised voices they declare
themselves syllables of
the right kind.
 THE VITRUVIAN CONCEPTION

To grasp the unknown, you have

to shine light into dark corners.
To travel beyond, you have to
bend reality around you, to let
go of inherited ideas, you have
to once more invent the future.

What will you hide behind your

dense clouds? Can you fool the
skeptic eyes with your illusions?
Can you reinvent the legends?
Everything is halted, a single
black feather falls from the sky.

The past is not forgotten, but

never again faced, omniscient.
Isolation is not a good place to
meet new friends, to gain the
vast knowledge of the universe,
alone, it would only darken
the soul.
 MENTAL WIGWAG

Toxic atmosphere.
Smog of considerable
effect, like a blanket
of elusive thoughts.

We traveled south to
Sussex, daydreaming
while strained
to chairs.

A mental wigwag
Selected to improve
our intellect, arguing
over meaningless
affairs.

How can we measure

intelligence by using
meaningless numbers?
This offending curve.

“It is clear that those

considered creative,
holds the key to genius”,
she said with mirth.
BLOOD STAINS THE FLORETS

Long hair.
Wind stalking her steps.
Leaves in a perfect harmony.
Like a whirlwind of secrets.
This broken heart has been kept.
Blood stains the florets.

Screams followed by silence.

Echoes of times that got away.
Heavenly light come closer.
People from nowhere gather
around, a girl with long hair
& many secrets,

lying like a
cold mannequin
on the ground.
 NEWSPAPER LETTERS

Raindrops dripping
down the valance.
Soaked mats &
rhythmic pots.

Desperate seeking
the balance,
between what is &
what was.

The floor is covered

with a new ocean.
Islands made out of
floating debris.

Chained together
in total devotion.
Never to leave
Forever abductees.
 CONJOINED

Cold night lingers on.

Dogs crying for attention.
Restless he walks,
thoughts of malicious
intention.

Moon carries new hope.

Cats eager to please.
Endless she sings,
eyes filled with warmth,
a tease.

Sun reanimates life.

Conjoined by their love.
Silent they stand,
watching as the heaven
burns above.
 RED SKY HORIZON

Life as you know it

will come to an end.
Shattered mirrors,
reflection of an
old familiar friend.

Streetlight flicker.
Embrace darkness,
live to offend.
Infested air,
this path seems endless.

Forever,
a red sky horizon.
Forever,
alone on this endeavor.
Forever.

Shine,
bright light.
 BUBONIC FRIEND

In ancient times we built

pyramids to honor our dead.
We put heavy stones on our
loved ones graves.

Now when our bubonic

friend has arrived,
we are piled.

7 men on a row,
24 heads high.
 DUALITY

Cardboard home.
Self-abnegation:

“Don’t mind me“

Soup kitchen, starvation.

A man and his scabby dog.
A street corner attraction.
Lost in the cold night,
lost in the fog, remembrance
of wrong decisions.
The bottle before my family.

He has lost all dignity,

future & ambition.

Sunken deeper,
misery is infinitely.
Shaken by dreams,
woken gradually.
Cough out the new morning.
Begging for small change,
an everyday normality:

“Don’t end up like me,

it’s a warning”.

A man and his

scabby dog.

A sad duality.
 THE DANCE

Dance my dear, beneath

the demanding moon.
Laugh at the wild ones,
all rejected by the gods.

Fire licks our movement.

Misfortune & rain will
follow us soon.

Dance my dear.
Dance as of death
was on your heels.

Dance my dear, before the

light, before the dark, these
are wicked men, all of them
have forgotten how love feels.

Stretched faces that

make no remarks.

Dance my dear.
Dance as of death
was on your heels.

Dance my dear, turn your

tears into silver.

Dance my dear.
Dance to remember,
dance to forget.
Energy in a pure form
Sparkling, everlasting.

Death makes us all

believers & leave us
trembling as weak
silhouettes.
 DIGITAL FLAMES

We are being raised

by the television light.
Building a wire nest
of artificiality.

Who are those living

in the bright neon night?
They are no longer in
touch, no longer human.

Streams of binary codes

enter our bodies.
Altering the soul,
creating a master copy.

There is no longer a
need of religion.
We are all locked inside
this calm beast’s belly.

Forgotten languages
are spoken here.
Masked men behind
cyber names.

A thread that suddenly

appears, reality as we
know it, vanished in
digital flames.
 FRAGMENTS

Observe this lazy thought.

Feel this elusive emotion.
Machiavellistic in its inner
deep, the heart, the soul.

Mind controlled by invincible

walls, please stop, don't walk.
Tangled words, give them
your total devotion.

Exceedingly complex in its

nature, created to fool the eye.
On a row they stand,
inches from perfection.

Visualize the two headed man.

Visualize the binary sky.
Once more insanity,
once more its reflection.
 THE COLLISION

She came with the

unseen winter.
A slow movement
across the frozen river.

She was trembling

& imprecise.
Lost in a zero
degree paradise.

Hidden in ice
her heart longed.
He saw her with
his splendid vision.

Hesitation, will he
call her name?
Fire meets ice
A collision.
 MADNESS OR DESIGN

Madness or design.

John, Paul and that third one.

Calling you after midnight:
“Don’t you wake the child”

Problem erased by white noise:

“I wish to tell you about loss and
the art of finding myself”.

“Do you care to listen?”

Another cup of coffee.
“Sugar is on the top shelf”.

Soon we are in the company

of the morning sun.

Just wait a little bit longer then

sail away with your dreams,
sail and never look back.

“Will I praise the stars as I run?”

Losing you hurts inside,
a sadness & anger combined.

Wake up.

She is forever gone.

Left is only
madness &
its design.
 MODERN DOWNFALL

Can I ask you of a favor?

Sirens, lights, crowds.

Lend me your stolen thought.

Stretcher, high speeds, sounds.

Can I steal you this moment?

Tunnels, flights, no bounds.

No new wisdom brought,

so was it meant.
 THE CATTLE BRANDER

The followers are constantly

aware of their predecessors.
In her dream, she rattled up
forgotten lovers.

To silence her mantra of

defeated bulls, he fled into
his own fantasies, he became
an alfalfa, a cattle brander.

Amongst the willows he woke.

No longer a bangtail, covered
in blood she lay beside him.
Balled up, he stared at nothing.
 CITIZIEN OF STUPID

Tell them lies through

cheap yellow media.
They will believe it all.
The Orwellian eye.
Always in a state
of rabid confusion.
Small talk about the
weather, cars, pastime.
It’s a suburban illusion.
You need a new soap
they say, sublime hooks
that always catch.
Fast food, diapers,
and so on, it’s a match.
Youth not knowing
their own history.
Living their life through
a 3.5 inch screen.
I provide you with
new toys, as long as
you listen.
Work, school,
depended on caffeine.
My knowledge comes
from my neighbor,
he got it from 999
channels of television.
Lies are printed
as you read:
“Citizen of stupid,
there will soon to be,
a brand new edition”
 GREEN CANVAS

High roller’s wife’s hips sway.

The deal is set, no more play.
Cool breeze, windowless.
Shades that reflect the rays.

Boasts blended with lies.

The green canvas awaits:
“Do you like what you see?
My man bought me these”

“He got liquid luck running

through his veins”

In an instant, the rattling of dice

ceased, the slot machines went
silent, in through the front door
the man they call Slim entered.

“I will play a game of roulette”,

he said with a Raleigh accent:
“You can watch”, he pointed
at the men with empty pockets.
 INSIDE A SCREAM

Take me inside the scream of a child.

Call out for the lonely one.
Take me deep into forgotten wild.
To end all violence before it began.

Only in the purest of truths can man

see reality, a cognitive substitution.
Beyond the vain shell lays proof.
Beyond this planned fabrication.

Not only impersonality, but a new

chance, rediscovery, inner truth.
Dying progresses the transformation
faster, new dimensions to be seen.

Reality in form of future disaster,

it’s as clear as inside a scream.
 CHEMICAL OVERLOAD

Worship the white line of alteration,

a horizontal race on ebony surface.
Become the master of articulation,
all other things are lacking of purpose.

Accept the quick transformation.

Tell me what we did back on campus.
Thoughts & days in a random mode,
flunked out, chemical overload.

Submit to the white line calling you.

I need concentration to remember.
Too many street corner rendezvous,
eyes of doubt as my will surrenders.
 ALONE

Alone.
I observe darkness play with light.
Whirling, they embrace each
other like weak shades of gray.

Alone.
I understand time and the
game of forever, keg to keg.
The torque is total.

Alone.
I cry of joy, the music stops.
The sun rises out of its
cradle.
 THE WISH

On the top of the purple hill

a lonely flower not charmed
by the wind stood still.

Looking out over the rain

soaked fields, it wished it had
wings, so it could leave
the mud,
the dirt,

to be healed.
 DEATH & VULTURES

Man must cooperate

with the gods in order
to survive, pray for
good wind for sailors.
All disasters are ideas
from divine creatures.

Water, a symbol of
purification, the flood,
common in all dying
cultures, our history
prevents us from creating
new connections.

The cosmic symbolism,

a way to explain our
universe, do not only
orientate by the stars,
it leads us into the desert,
slow dry death & vultures.
 EMOTIONS

Look inside
the doorway
of future
memories lost.
Will you whisper
my name even
when I’m gone?

My ideas,
one to realize,
one to toss.

Endless streams
of negativity:
“Please consume,
you must”
A chain of reactions
will follow,
emotions brought
to the surface.

Anger,
hope &
sorrow.

Let me follow
these white birds.
Becoming a shadow,
endlessly in the dark.
Hunting without
a meaning
or purpose.
SUNDERED WORLDS

Dying days &

their inhabitants.
They will not mourn
a consumed man.
Let us cheer for
the wise.

These creators
of machines &
sundered worlds.

Same men,
different uniforms.
In the shadow of
the tallest pine,
they laugh in
their new disguise.
 PARADIGM SHIFT

Dark are the clouds

on the threatful sky.
Pollution around
the newborn child.

Our infested minds.

In this opaque future,

only the shallow will
adorn the wisdom of
the new gods.

Our future.

But the lens to view

the future is clouded,
it must be filtered
through the past.

A paradigm shift.
 AFTERGLOW

Chasing a shadow
under the pale light
of a white dwarf.
Backwards they chant
as time seizes to exist.
Density to great,
degenerate matter.
No more reactions
of fusion.

To catch the
shadow,
I insist.

Older than the age

of the universe
is the soul
& the afterglow.
All rules are
made to shatter,
as dissolved materia
becomes one with
the shadow.

The endless
mass follows
the hearse.
 FIELDS OF COTTON

Shimmery nights,
cover your eyes.
Memory released,
free & in flight.
For all those who stood,
strong brave & bright.

Easy days on a string.

Memory fades,
faces forgotten.
But I will mention
your name, dream of you
in the fields of cotton.
 RADIANT

Mysterious Hekate.
Whisper your secrets.
Before the day awakes,
we who are born sacred.

Pale are your sisters.

Radiant twins upon
the same endless sky.
Radiant, yellow glow.

A coalition of dreams.
Life, death & rebirth.
Your cyclic movement,
huntress of those below.
 THE RITUAL

Bring forth the fallen one.

Only through his eyes can
I see the worlds unknown.

Stretch out for the skies.

By seducing the sun can
I become one, to realize.

Whispers inside a scream.

Only by his words can I hear
the cries of the unborn child.

Drink the salt from my tear.

Complete the ritual.
Embrace the night,
embrace the fear.
 A QUESTIONABLE INFINITY

The beast from the sea.

I laugh at thee, devious
one, part of the anti-
trinity, many words
without a meaning.
A questionable infinity.

For those observing our

universe with cerebral
clarity, no words from
creative geniuses will
ever fill you with doubt,
fill you with divinity.
 UNCONFRONTED

Only voids are present

as the “angel” sounds
the seventh trumpet.

Upon clean asphalt

the scientist dances
unconfronted.
 ONYX HEART

With the warlike

aspect of Ishtar.
She parked her car
outside his house.

He had called her

his morning star.
His Sumerian
fertility goddess.

But now he was

in the arms of a
scarlet whore.
A noxious carcass.

With a heart black

as onyx, she knocked
at the Navajo white
door.
 GHOUL RIDDEN FOG

Fading away not to reappear.

A flash of genius, however brief.
Thoughts, anxiety & disbelief.

A mockery inside the synagogue:

“Will they laugh at me?”

“Cover me…”

“Cover me in this
ghoul ridden fog”
 THE BREAKING

Black bird nesting inside my eyes.

A constant reminder of what will be.
Shiny wings create illusions as the
world starts to break.

Thin lies penetrate my soul.

Deep they dwell, taken for truths.
Once it was shimmery bright,
now its black as the blackest coal.

Black bird tells me intricate lies.

Through black wing beats I will see,
the breaking of the world we know.
Will I stand & watch, or will I partake?
 SCANDINAVIAN LIGHT

Scandinavian light, conquer.

Seeking freedom out west.
Sail to where the ocean’s bluer.
New homes to set our anchor.
Away from all weak subduers.

Explorers of high sea, teach.

New ways of the old kingdom.
Knowledge just within reach.
Fathers of coming generations.
Spawns of infinite education.

Settlers of new hope, learn.

Ancient secrets of the forest.
Burning ships, voyage, no return.
Hearts of courage, the bravest.
Ways of one god, unlearn.
 THE BORDELLO

Receiver of a
pretended kiss.
Once again the
red candles are lit.

Open windows,
invitations.
As they stand
you choose to sit.

Will you be the one?

Riches,
marriage,
new lands.

Boots on hard floors.

Future arrives w/ haste.
Eyes meeting eyes:
“Am I your taste?”

The fan creates

a cool breeze.
Alcohol & laughter,
hands & breath.
 WAVELENGHT

Nocturnal sins
& obscure thrills.
Moonlight serenades.
Catch the elusive current.

Darken eyes sparkling still.

Sing for Yahweh, sing as it kills.
Ride on the wavelength of zeroes.
Yet to lose a fragment.

Ride on the wavelength of zeroes.

Keeper of the nonverbal journal.
Seller of the imageless brochure.
The atom of insurgent thoughts.

Stretch the binary code,

the lummox source
& the vibrant quartz.
The resurgent digit.
 NARROW ROAD

Metal against naked skin.

Razor sharp tongues.
Men on single lines,
reaching out for
the tomorrow.

The last verse

has been sung.
Salute the
coming sorrow:

“Take over,
we lost control.
Wait for the next
command”

Dark eyes watch

as they enroll.
The monotone
voice repeats:

“This is what we demand”

Snowflakes falls.
Melts away on
white symbols:
“This is not what
we’ve planned”

Surrounded by
cheap wood.
Forever trapped
in their youth.
 These men don't
have a tomorrow.
There are no more
songs to sing.

This is the only

& final truth.
For it all ends here.

Wide roads
kept narrow.
 A PARADISE ABSCONDED

Fickle & capricious.

Deep inside Kilauea.
Creator of eruptions.
The volcano goddess.

If she is not pleased,

she will stamp with
her feet & dig with
her wand.

Flee to remote islets.

Flee from fire & heath.
Children of the isles,
a paradise absconded.
 GREED

Duels beneath
stormy seas.
Greedy thoughts
of a rich man
& his pipeline
connections:

“We can’t allow it

to become
an extraction
of our
children’s
dreams”

Sundried fantasies
& shale gas future.
At their expense
& our dollar
driven reason.
 MONOTONE DIALOGUES

Death is something
that scares me.
I can make fun of it,
laugh about it.
But deep inside my
unconscious mind,
I’m as afraid as the
newly woken child.

Released from a
nightmare.

Desperate we try to
live life to the fullest.
Eager to share our new
adventures, all these lies
are told in utter despair.
For all those who are
trapped, monotone
dialogues,

lack of deeper thoughts,

minds that are blank,

zapped.
WISDOM OF DEATH

Wisdom of death
releases the spirit.
Sets it free, give it
broad majestic wings.

Now, invoke a flight

over darkened hills.
Beating wings of truth
that seem invalid.

Cast your shadow

on the spectators.
Let them see you hover
with splendid grace.

Hover far above

their knowledge.
DOPPLER EFFECT

Love, is much like

the Doppler effect.
Near you I can’t
express.

Heartbeats inside
my head, stiffen
limbs & dry mouth,
overslept intellect.

These frequencies
of feelings, like
waves they travel.
A stammering dialect.

Only faraway do
you notice me.
Eyes meeting eyes
A success?
 TIDES OF SAND

The tides of sand.

Witnesses of the past.
An ancient wonderland.

She sank beneath the waves.

Wealth, knowledge & power.
A place for unmarked graves.

Punished by their arrogance,

a tenuous theory at best.
Once more she emerges.
CANVAS OF IRRATIONALITY

Colorless streams,
wild & free.
Monochromatic reality.
Only imagination
holds the key.
In search for
“the endlessly”

Horizon introduces
earth with sky.
Cumulus white,
suddenly,
beating wings,
dreams to come,
dreams in flight.

This painted
passion.
A canvas of
irrationality.
Color it in your mind,
strokes of perfect
cyclicality.
 IDIOSYNCRASY

The minute hand

moves six degrees.
Will it hit midnight
before the riots,
before the pre-
mutations?

Only by lies can

we uphold order.
Stability is the key.
Reached only by
medial torture,
idiosyncrasy.

How are we to
interpret the end
of our own existence?
Through a catchy
tune & a flash
white smile?
 THE DESERTER

Climb the celestial stairs.

Embrace the sun & moon.
Watch down on the legionaries,
as the two faced god turns.

The Centurions keeps order.

A lone deserter in the skies.
Once you were a proud citizen,
now only entitled as a former.

A chase through nimbus clouds.

Spears following your every step.
In a far distant Lupercus howls,
shattered as a godless statuette.
 GOD, SPIRITS & PROPHETS

Upon high mountains.

So close that you can
taste the clear heaven.

Clear as the prophetic

voice of his father, all
questions disappears.

Sacred and worshipped.

All associated with fear.
God, spirits & prophets.
 BRUSHWORKS

Am I really the one to blame?

Crucifixion, resurrection &
the rise to fame, laughing madly
as my glass fills with champagne.
It’s a seed planted in our brain.

Why don’t we wash away the

make-up from this sad clown?
Comedians are left downtown.
They are all tarred & feathered.
Absurdity rules the unmeasured.

Still the beating of my heart

with gentle words of comfort.
We all get what we deserve.
Stories of love & shorebirds.
Life is nothing but brushworks.
 1963

Extravagant & absurd,

roaming the streets in our
1963 Ford Thunderbird.

Distorted figures dance

in the awesome chrome.
What are our chances?

Will our vows bee told?

Military coups &
grass root speeches.

Sub orbital flight &

youth sucked dry
by greedy leeches.
 AMERICAN NIGHT

Lost in the American night.

Headlights reveals the act.
Laughing at the wilderness.
Horizon lost in the overcast.

Too much freedom is

hazardous.

A shot of tequila for me.

Next one is for the red soil.
Forever young and free.
Living life as in a 50’s film noir.

Woken decades later

by the recoil.

The express highway.

Connections of mobile sins.
To keep it perfect, keep it tight.
Empty bottles of hard liquor.

She is forever to be lost,

lost in the American night.

Stiletto heels on the car hood,

dances beneath the fireworks.
A crowd gathers around her,
a politician, a thief, a clerk.
 SHOCKWAVE CRESCENDO

Flavorless love must be spilled as

backward truth, effortless motion
must be praised as divined proof.
Heroes in black and white, erased
by a naked rainbow.

Those with lightness always hear

the shockwave crescendo.

Graceless they move towards the

anchored caboose, forgetting the
password they have to use, smooth
is the skin of the acolyte, as the
moon devourers his virgin aura.

Those with pureness always follows

the shockwave crescendo.

Tasteless is the interior of this

holy ship, priests & popes eagerly
awaits his arrival, polite is the
night & forgotten are the days
his mind started to wander.
ANGELS CALL ON ME

It started with a feeling

& grew into a word.

Angels call on me.

My heart is tangled
It has gone dark &
darkens still.

Angels call on me.

Can’t you heal the

heartbroken.
Heal me as it is
written, as it is
spoken.

Angels call on me.

l have been left

standing beneath
a symmetrical
silver cloud.
 THE BAZAAR

Leisure lounges for the esoteric.

Pink ladies and tempting thongs.
A smoke filled screening, fat are
the cigars & luxurious are the cars.

A suicidal rockstar, empty of all

recognizable feelings, all gathered
for the love of the dollar green.
A collective mid-age arousement.

In this secret flesh for sale bazaar.

The runaway teens strip upon the
silver screen, stained & hollowed,
but still smiling with twisted lips.
 THE SACRIFICE

Piece or board that will never fissure.

Aggressive opening, control the center.
Russian system, no increased pressure.

No longer a student, now the mentor.

Expect the Grünfeld defense, I will make
you move your queen.

Face immense intelligence, a meteoric

rise, a move of purest elegance.
An ingenious knight sacrifice.
 MY AXIOMS

Let me tell you about my universe.

My axioms & rules of inference.
My paradigm is not adverse,
it follows self-evident principles,
theorems of existing statements,
Crtl-C from various articles.

Conceptualize my paradigm.
Change the fabric of reality.
Predicate logic, quantifiers.
No problems of undecidability,
a marriage of theories, a unifier.
Strong in its ambiguity.
 BRIDGE OF FIRE

As I call out to darkness.

Darkness that is in my heart.
A bridge of fire will keep us apart.
 THE WITCH

Control this caged emotion.

The deep sting of the thorn .
She needs your sudden devotion.
Skin so pale as the whitest snow.

Green mist arouses the senses.

Wild roses cover her body.
With bright eyes she lures you in.
Long red hair, strong & gaudy.

Another soul lost by her bosom.

Drowned in her generous cleavage.
Emotions elusive as a pincushion.
She wears a necklace of beating hearts.
 DIS PATER

Druids of the long

forgotten past.
Protect me from
Dis Pater.
I’m a man of a
thousand
broken oaths.

Men & women

of the ancient
call.
Protect me from
Dis Pater.
I’m a man with
evil in my bones.

Deities of the divine

Pantheon.
Protect me from
Dis Pater.
Protect me from
the father
of riches.

Protect me before
the vengeful clouds
thickens,
before I enter
his
underworld
kingdoms.
 TIME

She came with peace

& departed with war.
She came with centuries
& ended ages.

She invoked genius

& planted insanity.
She came with order
& endorsed chaos.

She came with changes

& became stagnant.
She praised evolution
& caused regression.
 WINE OF PLEASURES

Rejected by the wise,

Pythagoras & his lectures.
Youthful hearts & spirits.
From Bacchus we stole
the wine of pleasures.

Why take part of the

knowledge passed down
by the Egyptian priests.
When wine can quench
your thirst for lessons.

Why meet the same end

as Hippasos, drained
in a well, an irrational
number nourished our
mentor’s aggression.

No, we content ourselves

with the knowledge that
the blood-red wine
provides, a constant flow
of sweet grape dogmata.
GRANDIOSE OVERDOSE

Freedom & feelings

locked inside a jar.
Feelings escape.
They can travel,
travel so far, far, far.

Swollen of lobsters
& Russian caviar.

Arrowheads point west.

Keep your secrets close.
A superstars manifest.
Red carpets &
star-struck eyes.

Grandiose overdose.
Psychoanalyzed.

Travel on young man.

Dreams will end in
obscure alleyways.
True fame is reached
only via the velvet bed.

To swallow pride
& giving head.
 HORSES & ANACHRONISM

Hard nights followed

by restless sleep.
Tossing and turning.
Pillows made of concrete.

Once more the cursed

morning arrives with light.
An entire universe swirls
in weak sunrays.

Open the door to your

perfectly closed prison.
Green fields of welcome.
Horses & anachronism.
 THE COFFIN

Velvet interior.
48 oz bronze.
Polished:

“A nice ride?”

The caretaker nods.

We circle the
casket.
Tilted heads.
Astonished
by the idea
of death.

Our fingers
plays on the
cool surface:

“To expensive?”
 OUR ZEITGEIST

Our zeitgeist, nothing

more than replicas
of invented thoughts
& suicidal dreams.

No need for skewed

guidelines, parents
misbehave in front
of pale toddlers.

The police as seen

on the TV, making
love with the thief
& his revolver.

Bombardment of
slight diffused &
naked messages,
become a sponsor.

Those with white

fences prosper, high
education, a right
to learn, sharper?

Our zeitgeist, does

not need a problem-
solver, our zeitgeist
needs a medial martyr.
 AGING

Red brick facility, a prison

for those with similar genetic
factors, decades of developed
habits, a place for aging waste.

Inside, the low humming

of old age, it is disturbing.
Slow movement & weak nerves.
Only a few of many burdens.

This accumulation of change.

This multidimensional process.
The molecular clock, the slow
shortening of our telomeres.

With one foot in the grave,

their day fills with memories,
infused childhood tendencies.
They all wish for an extension.
 CAPED IN FOG

Excited and blushed.

Fumbling fingers slips.
Wide darkened eyes.
Need to readjust.
She was your first.
Sloppy work.
Disturbed.
Knife tangled in
her underskirt.
From hell you wrote.
Caped in fog.
Quick steps down
narrow alleys.
Long black coat.
Hiding in darkness.
This is not the epilogue,
this is just the beginning.
 GOD OF ARTS

The god of arts.

A vibrant youth.
Gave earth the
life-giving light.

With golden hair,

he chased Helios
& his trailer of
the sun.
 BRETHREN

Vague shapes of life.

Frail souls forgiving.
Follow my brethren,
Plague, death & strife.

Follow my brethren
through the pearly
gates, forget all of
life’s hardship & hate.

Follow my brethren,
Plague, death & strife.
They who swept you
away from childhood
games.

Follow my brethren
into the uncertain end.
Into afterlife, into the
bone-white plains.
 THE GLOWING ANKH

They forage around my grave.

Jackals of the nightly hours.
Do you still watch over me?
Transition of endeavouring.

Anubis black jackal head.

Represent the glowing Ankh.
Symbolized & color matched.
Killings at the Nile riverbank.
 EDGE OF CHAOS

On the edge of chaos.

All rules of order
are dethroned.

Information told by
the misinformer.
Voices are monotone.

On the edge of chaos.

No straight lines
or paradigms.

Dreams controlled.
Reality is a torture.
Happiness postponed.

On the edge of chaos.

The half man smiles
a slyly smile.
 THE BLUEPRINT

The blueprint of creation.

It needs small adjustments.
A humanitarian donation.
Evolutionary enchantment.

The root of evil in man.

Is it a misquotation?
A simple error?
A code long broken?

The blueprint of creation.

To tamper with nature.
A cure to exfoliation.
The artificial violator.

Man’s heart can’t be fixed.

Do we need to alter the core?
Slip of a finger, now extinct.
To walk before you crawl.
 THE DOMINION

Exclaim my new kingdom.

From the pile of trash to the sofa.
Borders of my dominion.
 METALANGUAGE

Let us solve the

unknown paradoxes.
A member of itself.
Axioms of infinity.

Logical metalanguage.
Dimmed synopses.
Not to sacrifice the
already existing.

Failing to the single

thought, become
the anathema, to be
subdued,

become the malediction.

 BIRTH OF CREATIVITY

The world was shattered

by your movement.
But beauty could still be
found in the debris.

To the wakened gods

and their amusement.
Witness the birth of
creativity.
 BY FIRE

Only through fire

can we witness the
rebirth of love.

Only by fire
can we let our
feelings roam.
 SUBVERSION

The sweet smell

of bourbon &
cheap oozing sex.

A nightstand & floor

completely covered
in Kleenex.

I have heard of
psychological
subversion:

“Somebody I have met?”

Departed by a
single word; “Confess.”
 A PURPLE VISION

I visited in my dream
a place long gone.
The air was filled
with strange laughter.
Water was absorbed
by hasty clouds.

In my dream I was
simple, known as
the visitor.
A stranger of
unmeasured
dimensions.

A purple vision.

Every move was

forced, calculated.
Followed by
a thousand
stirring
eyes.

I began to point
at the pale faces.
All shapes became
stretched.
All colors
became faded.

But there was

joy and music
in man.
 MEASURE OF A MAN

Quality
is measured by
those who are trained.
On a long line they stand.
Nodding to the beat of
the machine.

Yellow helmets
create the letter P.
As it is seen from the
men above.
Back on the concrete
they are all ignored.

A man is measured
by the quantity of
what he produces.
Not by the quality
of his
dreams.
 WANDERING THOUGHTS

Visualize the
Euclidean algorithm
as she pulls silver
from your hair.
Is she a positive
integer?
Created to divide
without a remainder.

She smiles,
once again your
thoughts
wander.
 THE PIQUANT

Even though my thinking

may be terribly wrong.
I must respect those
who kept walking
tall.

All hail the piquant.

Slandered and beaten,
but never weakened.
The fire in their eyes
scorched the sun.

Decades later they

are treated
with admiration
from the conceited.
As gods to simpletons.
 HILLBILLY SALUTE

Eliminate the differences

with an inherited revolver.
Another lap dance blues.
Still riding the bugaboo?

Embrace the mollycoddler.

Last shots of prairie fire.
Will my snake skin boots
improve my posture?

Denims and a leather jacket.

Taken for a nincompoop.
12 years spent in an institute:
“The commercial forced me too”

How to differ the ones to shoot.

No matter of order or finesse.
They will all get cuckooed,
in my hillbilly salute.
 POCKETS & PERFUMED LETTERS

On the other side of morning

I tell the pipers my warning.
Metal slugs & coastal mines.
There will be no play today.
Only steel & certain death.

Go to them straightaway.
A manmade maze of dirt.
The galactic pinwheel.
Will I die as in Macbeth?
Enemies & hasty friends.

Pockets & perfumed letters.

Shaking hands write back.
Honored by an F D Roosevelt.
Numbers blends with orders.
Amnesiac, can’t remember
who or why.
 BLOATED MEN

Bloated men ride

the tidal waves.
Hunger can be found
in the eyes
of those still alive.
Orders are echoing
down the forsaken
shoreline.

Bloated men ended

their dreams in
shallow stirred water.
Bloated men falling
asleep to a symphony
of grenades.
Bloated men,
children of wartime.
 RURAL EXODUS

Street kids in Rio, follow this mellow sound.

In the Favela, we climb up towards poverty.
The man with the most guns, self crowned,
king of the slope, lord of the underground.

Empty and weak, in a constant hunt for

quick nutrition, leave this common ground.
In Rocinha, we will not be missed, only lost
behind our own barbed wire impounds.

Our friends took a ride with the police, they

are nowhere to be found, they blame the rural
exodus, it’s hard to concentrate while being
tremulous, inside a bird’s nest long outgrown.
 INEPT

Placed by hierarchy a mile

away from the confrancier.
Surrounded by cheap wigs
& retired engineers.

From the open window

I could hear the boat whistle.
As we raised our glasses, my
head spun, my ears fizzled.

The songs from the sailors

were echoing inside my head.
All contained oceanic thirst
& appetite for women.
 THE MARQUIS

He introduced himself
as a libertine, took her
under his wing at the
age of fourteen.
Unrestrained
by morality,
religion
or law.

Emphasis on violence.
Never love or romance.
Proponent of
extreme freedom.

Where to go my Marquis?
The Bastille or the
Conciergerie.
 MASK OF SANITY

Delicate symbols
hides the truth.
Deranged letters
of hideous claims.

Medieval approach.
Modern departure.
This mask of sanity,
slipping gradually.

Into silence or into

death, never a tear,
never a smile.
A blank identity.
 SOFT WORDS

To be reinvented in
your dreams, a lustful
fantasy of the exterior.

To become broken by
the world, a weak
soul’s dark interior.

We are all ruled by

flaws, shattered by
our own soft words.
 INNER PAGODA

In our inner pagoda, the

youthful clown wrestles
the aging man.
The winner settles down.
Happy days or boredom.

In our inner pagoda, we

climb towards the pointy
end, stair after stair.
Until exhausted, we
take our final breath.

In our inner pagoda, the

one who goes out too
hard, racing against the
shadow, will only get
his life shortened.

In our inner pagoda,

death awaits at the end
of this individual spire.
In our inner pagoda,
the only way is upwards.
 FUNERAL

The vessel was

buried under
rich Protestant
dirt.

The soul was

sold to the
highest
bidder.

The memories
fade by time.
Sun bleached
& stained.
 RADICAL IDEAS

Innovations by the diseased.

These radical ideas, constantly
miscarried & conceived,
by mad men & their greed.

True change can only begin

with murder, ideas formed in
Utopia, are like quantum-
mechanics for a sheepherder.

Carbon neutral transportation.

Artificial clouds, will it make a
difference? First we wage war,
later on, a lost deliverance.

The celebration of the creative

mind, often cut short by news
of thievery & lies, carnivorous
eyes, it’s easy selling gibberish.
 THE CANDY KING

Disappear into a
Shakespearean dream.
The shadowy realm of
the unconscious.

Sharp, but poisonless.

Needles instead of fingers.
Methamphetamines.
A chase for the colorless.

Existing, breathing &

sick croons, unstrung.
The followers needs a
new candy king.
 THE BEGGAR

Conversation with the devil.

Nightly routines & executions.
The church tower hides the
escape, once again the beggar
have been embezzled by
dear old friends.

The men with raven beaks.

Silver & gold, information.
No longer able to hide in
shadows, concentration.
Will the beggar’s story
remain untold?

The boy up the narrow street

told the beggar his latest lie.
That women like stones
decorate the riverbed.
They have indeed proven
to be no witches.

The beggar wrote it all down.

Handed it over for a shiny
penny, to end his life
in fame & fortune.
What to become of the
beggar, if he has riches?
GOD’S ABSTRACTNESS

God's abstractness.
A non-empirical idea.
To imagine something
greater, is it to gain
knowledge of god’s
existence?

Are we not mere

accidents or products
of a fortuitous nature?
 A SIMPLE EQUATION

The complexity of our lives.

Solved by a simple equation?
Raised hands, those who are
pure already know the answer.

Do we think there’s no God?

Will we live in permanent shame?
Have the atheists and their crimes,
been expunged by the reawakening?
CONCEPTION OF THEOLOGY

In the absence of God,

the unknown variable.
Will we ever to be in
doubt of our perfect
logic?

Is the conception
of theology, only
civilization's crux
for morality?

Will a belief in a higher

being stifle the chaos
of a moral-less
construct?
 144000

Each of the first four.

The appearing horsemen.
Riders of the apocalypse.
Slain for the word of God.

The fifth seal opened.

The sudden conjunction.

Eclipse of man, 144000.
The true servants of God.
The heavenly crowd.

The sixth seal broken.

The Bible scholars tells us

to await the next sign.
Seven angels, the spirit of
God, famine & world wars.

Seven trumpets &

seven bowls.
VEGETABLE HEADS

Vegetable heads
planted in rows.
Fertilized by ideas
from the scarecrow.
Individual victory
comes with the
farmer’s plow.

Harvested,
only to be left
rotting
in the sun.
 CUP OF TEARS

Only with primal attention

does she kneel before you.
Swept away from reality.
Drinking the cup of tears.
 BIRTHDAY PRESENT

In the act she displays

monastic silence.

Movement by order.
Light as a feather.

A birthday present
from headstrong
pranksters.
 SONS & DAUGHTERS OF ATON

With arms bent in perfect angles,

they move as melodious tunes.
Sons & daughters of Aton,
a history covered in sand dunes.

Beautiful servants, darkened eyelids,

the son of Ra, the power.
Eternity awaits inside the Pyramids.
Dreams of dust, forgotten, lost.
JUGGLING FOR WISDOM

Who will be the

king of the loonies?
In this festival
of fools gathered.
Who will play
the king?
Juggling for wisdom
beneath a smiling
moon.
 CONTRADICTION

He devoured the sun

in order to create the
eclipse, weaken by his
hollow within, the sun
conquered the demon.
 DECADENCE OF ARISTOCRACY

The decadence of aristocracy.

A tarnish on the exotic patina.
The fading of the luster.

Heads kept higher, fox fur

wearing ladies can’t stand it
any longer.

To be equal to the maid, a

nightmare that ruins their
posh filled dreams.
 ENGLISH DESSERT

Posh girl shares

the spotted dick.
Uptown boy licks
the cream from
the bright red
cherries.

An English dessert.
Served at its best.
BEATING HEART CHARIOTEER

Through fire I carry you.

High above the flames.
High above all
expectations.

But love most be caught

on fire in order to
reach our
hearts.

Arms around my neck.

Beating heart charioteer.
Love yet so fragile,
love yet so unclear.
FALSE FAREWELLS & DESSERTS

I have become
my father,
a walking travesty.
Ground down
by centuries
of work.

Ambition
without modesty.
It’s a lonesome walk.
In the shade of
the company sign,
he cried.

False friends
& hauberks.
With historical precision,
they will try to
thrust their daggers
into his back.

A chronological
recognition.
The company hands
out a golden watch,
false farewells &
desserts.
 WINDS OF INNOVATION

Cold north winds

brought insight.
Brought neither a
beginning nor an end.

It passed through
the hearts of men.
As a welcoming chill
up their spines.

Will we welcome
this sudden change?
Transistor radios &
post war designs.

Proteus & his flows.

Science & embryos.
Biodiversity & the
last white buffalo.
 FEVER & FLASHOVERS

A pledge for pleasure.

Still nervous about
my late debut.

According to others,
it can be measured,
limp or in salute.

Naked she awaits my

arrival, fever &
flashovers.

Appendage versus a
rubber substitute.
A denial of masculinity.
 ECHOES OF PLEASANT PHRASES

Fishnet stockings & ponytails.

Echoes of pleasant phrases.
A fetish for old men or those
recently connected.

Youthful curiosity leads to

vulgar places, sexual fantasy
fulfilled by webcam whores or
those who are pretending.

Cascades of smart marketing.

These triple letters, brightly red,
temptation pink, a threesome
with two of the three monkeys.

Relief bought for fifty pesos.

Similar names, different faces.
A cross-dressed cyberpunk,
gives away a free striptease.
 EMBRACE

Sharp are the shadows

that dance unnoticed.
Thunder & lightning,
threat-full & frightening.

Fingerlike branches
tapping the window.
Reaching out for those
covered in comfort.

The mothers embrace,

sundered dreams of a
tranquil place, shaken
by habits & horror TV.

Embraced by motherly
love, slowly the dreams
went back to that sunny
place, to that harmless
play.
 THE ARAB SPRING

The modern pharaoh

falls from his everlasting
throne, those without
a voice will rejoice their
brother’s freedom.

Remember those who

bravely stared death
in its eye, children of
the green sea, mothers
of the everlasting fields.
GHOST WOVEN MIST

Welcome my presence.
Once more the deep
sleep emerges.

A ghost woven mist.

The harmless removal
of sharpness.

Nightmares are kept

behind high fences.
Surrender my darkness.

Cognitivist & green faces.

Send me a light that will

lead the way, let me
once more awake.

Let me cherish the day.

Subordinate creativity.
I’m standing at the
threshold.

Caught between a dusky

dream & the world of
those awakened.

Information
& ultimatums.
 WORDS FROM THE DEAD

I have gathered once more

my friends, vanity & anxiety.
Harsh are the words they
utter, always uninvited.

They all remember dark

places, constant revisited.
Unheard knocks & raised
heartbeats, feelings ignited.

Calming myself down with

words from the dead, songs
of those forgotten, masters
of their craft, masters.
 SUPERSTITION

The politician wears necklaces of ivory.

Untouchable by smells, untouchable
by rustling dollar bills.

The court judge has his pocket filled

with magnetite, observing the future,
protected from reptile eyes.

The doctor uses fossilized wood,

a treatment, a cure for colds.
All in a world without modern progress.
 TYRANNY & DREAMS

Corporate powers
& corporate greed.
Street propaganda &
open-source regimes.

Squeezed by layers.
The middle man.
Intellectual property.
Tyranny & dreams.
 OLIGARCHS & FAILED METAPHASES

Black hearts & red spades,

decades of false perceptions.
Time travel & masquerades,
projected truths & visible lies.
Fluoxetine & TV fairy tales,
the lemming train arrives.

We cruise down HWY 61.

Royal title before product,
Cancer or jungle drums.
We are so naive in our
outlook on life, that we can
no longer find our way back.

To a time when planning &

reflection gave results.
Who told us that we need to
succumb to every impulse?
That we need to buy happiness.
Oligarchs & failed metaphases.
 SILVER BUTTERFLIES

Chameleon faces pay the dues.

A string attached to silver
butterflies, fake eyes observe
the location of the enemy.

Animalistic movement takes us

deeper into our own lies.
Reality trembles as we tamper
with our own gravity.

Will you be the one who calls out?

A pledge for the invented god.
The new right wing morality,
a temptation for the tormented.
 MENTAL ESCAPADE

The lords & their chains.

Released hounds & the
hunt for those on the top.

Followers of the Cancer sign.

The decadent tree & those
who once walked straight.

To live life as an outcast.

The one they call different.
A constant mental escapade.
 SKEWNESS

Skew lines & missed curves.

Thousands of men grinning.
Curtains of transparent silk.

In all her nakedness she

embraced the warmth from
the theater spotlight.

At home in front of the TV,

the child of the exploited
hides her razor-cut limbs.
 STRANGERS

In the backseat of a red Charger,

I made you see beyond heaven.
Motionless & numb we shared
a bottle of freedom, inhaling the
smoke of burnt rubber.

Still 300 miles to go, can we

travel on with pretended ease?
Can we look each other in the
eyes through this angular rear
view mirror?

Seven U-turns & a spotlight sight.

With great distance in our bodies
we abandoned the Prussian HWY.
Slippery tongues & shiny piercings,
tattooed road map & neon lights.

Road trip virgins & meta-paradigms.

Spending our time listening to
delta blues & counting rusty signs.
Silence only enhances the feeling of
us being strangers.
 BLACK ORCHID

Beautiful strangers fights for the

attention of the enshrouded girl.
Sprinkle stardust on the black orchid.

Voluptuous black waves,

eternal delta,
teeth white as pearls.

Crocodile skin boots, gasoline &

rehearsed poses, Jesus saves &
swamp cooked stew, all for the
few who have named themselves
the devil, cloaked in cerulean blue.

Sinister red lips,

meandering thoughts,
a gaze containing death.

The lady of the apocalypse.

Dug a grave for each stranger.
In beauty there is a hidden horror.
 NUMB SENSES

Change is only based

on the interaction of
opposing forces, from
a momentary stasis.

Antithesis first yields

conflict, then it
subsequently results
in a synthesis…

This Hegelian dialect

So true for those still
grasping our world
with numb senses.
 CHARM OF THE BROKEN

It’s always easier to rally

yourself around the charm
of broken people.

When you yourself can

slip between worlds as
you want.
 IGNIS FATUUS

Corn fed children & backyard whores

Paranoia & the open source.
Tin foil protection & flickering lights,
drive-bys & marauder flights.

Creator of hysterical thoughts.

An imagination that runs wild.
Who are those without this gift?
The grown-ups, the courtly class.

To not enjoy Beethoven’s fifth.

With playful logic & love for the
abstract, is it an ignis fatuus to
believe in our children’s dreams?
 THE WIDOW

The unseen face of tomorrow.

Sailors & the re-born widow.
Changes come with the news.
Happy times & those filled w/
sorrow, grim reaper humbug.

For 7 days & 7 nights he has

rested beneath cemetery grass.
The grieving process, overdone.
Let us conquer the fragments
of the fourth dimensional
continuum.

The widow has no need for

speculative theories or grown
men sucking their hammer
thumbs, the widow needs a
firm grip & endlessly caring
thrusts.
 WITHIN

Within my heart
wolves cry aloud.
Temporary tamed
& civilized.

Dreams of travel,
dreams of distance.
The call of nature,
the wilderness.

The different scent

of those fabricated.
A passion for the
hunt, the eagerness.

Forgotten Satyr, let

me once more taste
your wine, your
ancient pleasures.
 SYLVANIAN LIGHT

A killer that strikes at night.

Once more he walk amongst
the shadows, to take a life.
Thousands of voices that
blend into Sylvanian light.

They are scattered, friends

& foes, friends of friends as
his list gets longer, will he
bow to the Cannibal King,
or bow to his henchmen?

The moon is his new sun,

a tanned face of paleness
The knife is his new finger,
stainless steel & pureness.
The killer of sharp shadows.

Only in the Sylvanian light

can he find peace of mind.
Only in the Sylvanian light
does he connect to our kind.
Only in the Sylvanian light.
 WAL-MART MAGIC

Symmetrical faces & divine attributes.

Forced into a frame of gray normality.
Why can’t you let me dance down
these empty streets?

Curses can be cured by Wal-Mart magic.

Sickness of the soul, a broken teenage heart.
It is all a superstition of our invented reality.

Only those who have stared into the void

can put together words without a meaning,
without a purpose or holistic reason.
 MAN IN GRAY

Tailored madness for the man in gray.

He chooses with great care his scene.
Planned deeds & sewer frequent views,
tongue-tied & mescaline dreams.

He creates identities after each loss.

He can no longer speak, just gargle.
Flee the city in the moon's dim light.
The man in gray is now submerged.

Intrusive leeches feasts upon his skin.

Flickering surface, the underworld.
Chained & shackled, dying thoughts,
those above prepares a final toast.
 THE PORNOCRACY

Light strikes the retina of

the Senatrix, she has a vision.
The upper head of the porno-
cracy listens to seductive
whispers.

My sweet sister Theodora,

amorous intrigues suits us.
Curvaceous, a roman tiara.
Firm grip around the scrotum.
Under divine light they utter:

“Pressure creates
a lustful drama”

Popes tendering the harlot

rose, dust covers the holy book.
Windswept are the altars &
echoing are the rooms.
The crucifix bear witness.
RECIEVERS & TRANSMITTERS

Only those who portray

themselves as wise gets
away with regular disuse.
Only those who practice
lies manage to hear the
torturous truths.

Forgetfulness & lies.

A world divided.

Receivers &
transmitters.
 THE FORMULA

Recreate the synopsis of creation.

A suiting form of paradoxical
behavior, a physical structure.

Twisted strings that can’t be seen.

Autopoiesis, science, grace &

the savior, are there a formula
for genius?

Complex ,
nucleus,
clean.
 THORNS

I'm tired of these blank faces.

These trains of fools & their
constant slander, these thorns
amongst exotic flowers.