The Power Within Empathic Energy

The Big Big Bang – > The Big Crunch?

Is that line between the two oppositions all there?

  1. The Power Within Empathic Energy: One can argue that empathy plays a role in survivalism just as the golden rules of our great religions in a way that it’s more beneficial to be nice to people to survive, or merely enjoy surviving. True. But the same argument doesn’t apply in humans taking care of animals as for example adopting homeless, euthanize the suffering and build a momentum of what we call animal rights. There’s not gaining any human being to help animals in distress because: 1)
  2. Most other animals in the 21st Century though dangerous are lower than us on the food chain, 2) All animal life is pretty much considered throughout our world without its respective life value as even comparable to humans. And 3) Since the 1980s animal rights associations most known of which the some call extreme PETA has gained multi million momentum counted in people caring about Darwin’s legacy, the moment we accept our race was not put here to rule an eternal dominion over every other race and the resistance against fur, animal imprisonment and torture for entertainment or the systematic cruelty in factory farming all harmonize with that our collective mind, our collective wisdom is slowly – painfully accepting what Darwin said
  3. “All beings whether mammals bacterias insects or birds live on this planet for no other reason than to enjoy living so much as they want to reproduce”
  4. Empathy is seen in next to every species of animals across the species barrier or within. Empathy as is you know to transport your consciousness into another’s and that power is in my humble opinion one if not the greatest assets of our intellect sub specie aeternatis to survive as the desire to release empathic power of empathy just as desires to release sexual, social desires and cognitive desires all rooting from every human mind’s need to be liked as long as liking all.
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Red

River-Zeal © 2017

If I had the time
I’d fast forward

If anything goes here comes three crows and with them the rust of the world. Execute names a button colored rusty crimson like flames into burst!
If anything goes can my gun hang from my tongue and execute first?

If I had the time
I’d press execute

And the knowledge combined output them all and they’re so important they need to feel important in the face of other people importance of being idle, unable and celebrate the foe! knowledge to live amongst us without legs or heads gloriously dressed in executed red velvet silk rubber in the face of other people acting important looking like extras in a movie scene or he might just be invented in the face of time to exterminate!

If I had the time
I’d take us safe to Hell

Execute in Gloria Excelsis Deo ancient spell
Oed Sislecxe Airolg backward spiral bound and bent
throws me out of time for a while of a lifetime
then I’m back catching the whole automatic earth is for rent
Only thing that hath no end, inside the inside
Time itself was the half bull half man alive
And he sath there with a laugh
His Breath Still Smells like Manflesh
And that got them so afraid
He chopped some heads that day, Time
He should be given gratitude in the end,
Mysteries don’t solve themselves
Or occurrences of occupations like police officers
Terms used mentioning law and order
So white males started murmuring and ever since
Time has sped away, out of reach, really fled
And The Night is red the color of rust and Hell
And you’ve been there
You just denying it yet

If I had the time
I’d press red

The Climate Bullshit TV Channel On Cable

-0N AIR> > >
Good morning law abiding crusher of democracy, we are here in our seats as we are every single morning to keep you occupied by raising questions with a whole Channel On Live telling you all about what we know about something none of us can either control, predict or do anything else than accept the fact that the weather is like the weather is. Some years ago before you were born we had inventors, such great inventors  that invented, thats right, not discovered the term for which we are used to call temperatures. In a range from 5 to 35 percent out of a total 100 we are certified to take you on a journey diving into speculations on how high or how low they’re gonna be, just maybe, somewhere near where you may walk around at around some time as long as that son of a bitch, the sun crosses over our sky causing us constantly that we’re alive, and in the end is just another lame duck excuse to keep the sleepers in their beds 24/7 which is defined in our network’s constitution as a primary goal, the other to act as the information shown and spoke of is of vital relevance to anyone under the layers of ozon (which we refrain from talking about shrinks and dims) – vital as everything that our competitors do over at The Sport Channel, The Shop Channel, the Bible Scandal Channel, the Bible Channel, The NEWS channels are kind enough with their status to get us VIP tickets to Springsteen in August and next week an important meeting will be held, if all feel fresh and well, about raising the number of female co-workers to another minimum level despite the Supreme Court, the Electoral College, The Pentagon, White House, UN Building and JFK airport and all cafeterias around rely upon. After taking you down memory lane showing you how the weather was today, moving on to commercial, boobs and hotlines for victims of mass shootings executed before the NRA got their natural hold of them. As a fetus in their grandmother’s womb. If you still haven’t got that sleep out of your eyes what I will do is hit repeat.

Good morning law abiding crusher of democracy, we are here in our seats as we are every single morning to keep you occupied by raising questions with a whole Channel On Live telling you all about what we know about something none of us can either control, predict or do anything else than accept the fact that the weather is like the weather is. Some years ago before you were born we had inventors, such great inventors  that invented, thats right, not discovered the term for which we are used to call temperatures. In a range from 5 to 35 percent out of a total 100 we are certified to take you on a journey diving into speculations on how high or how low they’re gonna be, just maybe, somewhere near where you may walk around at around some time as long as that son of a bitch, the sun crosses over our sky causing us constantly that we’re alive, and in the end is just another lame duck excuse to keep the sleepers in their beds 24/7 which is defined in our network’s constitution as a primary goal, the other to act as the information shown and spoke of is of vital relevance to anyone under the layers of ozon (which we refrain from talking about shrinks and dims) – vital as everything that our competitors do over at The Sport Channel, The Shop Channel, the Bible Scandal Channel, the Bible Channel, The NEWS channels are kind enough with their status to get us VIP tickets to Springsteen in August and next week an important meeting will be held, if all feel fresh and well, about raising the number of female co-workers to another minimum level despite the Supreme Court, the Electoral College, The Pentagon, White House, UN Building and JFK airport and all cafeterias around rely upon. After taking you down memory lane showing you how the weather was today, moving on to commercial, boobs and hotlines for victims of mass shootings executed before the NRA got their natural hold of them. As a fetus in their grandmother’s womb. If you still haven’t got that sleep out of your eyes what I will do is hit repeat.

Under Heathen Weather

The movie wasn’t scheduled to screen in april anyway

The hand didn’t come with any finger prints on Wednesday

The stoned and broke arrows point down-side-upwards

Life wasn’t scheduled to hit the mayan tunnels, Fitzgerald highways

Rolling like stones, like drones creeping in and out of zoos and shows

Typing like bones, like toys not expanding the limitations of the box office

The hue saturates the colors of our every morning cue lined waiting for wicked rolling rolling

Rolling like stones, the rumored marooned abysmal pitfalls peepholes, departs arrivals
Rolling like stones at the sound of hammer fall, guest docks smooth raccoons laid in ruins, rolling like stones the drops of weather hatches

The rum run over by the la layette squad, parks in needles, same day in equal equinoxes, shadow figures, hum.

The play button wasn’t invented when they did a rerun

Timequake, Earthquake, birthdays payed in sermons

The pressing of red velvet, 1980s plastic pieces childhood

Brings an errand to the herald of mind, grass green wine, nursery-rhymed like it should.

Rolling like stones, zombies, hillside corpses, rolling like stones, wooden, holy, like moons in AM hours, tuna sailors, seagull creatures rolling

Rolling like stones, high dried bums of morphine lotus, rolling spring, rolling summer, august

(

the rolling credits as credentials, the heathens, the independence bell chime

new era century of sunset sunspots, sunken treasures, shots of nectar at the neck of tide

Old York, hispanics, the declaration wasn’t even written

everything is half ass-whole trimmed parts of the front rows, the check out, cash-in’s, sickly are the sick and wicked are the sicks will not be smitten )

Music riding away the weather

Africa Chicken Dinners

Africa, I never sat foot in your musical mosaic continent.

Africa, You got my breath and you use it to blow dust all over your history of bad intent.

Africa, Where did your sense of pride and sensation and uniquely qualified to be the best student in the classroom go?

Africa, are you letting your people and their genocides and poor education diminish your self respect, your mother tongue speaks a poetic alphabet

Africa, the home of elephants yet The home of brilliance and ancient knowledge about the golden number, the silver spoon and the bronze in your veins from Tangiers to Mozambique
waking up without your astronaut suit
In the jungle of your own heart naked and raped is that’s all? You of all?

Africa, show me some strength, or else my kind will let you down again, seize the diamond money you’ve managed to hidden, colonizing your children to a violent fate picking cotton and corn might make any boy these days that tolerance and levels of garbage pit pile role you take is a victim one and you need offensive leading to win possibly some mewning, more questions genocide lays on the table upright with the knitting. its been a while now and you have one leg already kicking. civil wars that scars your thoughts but Africa you got to heal yourself. live alone, die together with yourself and none. similar to just about everyone: stay afloat, rig the game, blame the guy blow some cop, act your age bitch.
maybe all youre worth really is just the rotten core of all the world’s green shit. who knows. You sure as fuck dont take initiative, whatever happened to the teachings from Egypt. Cooperation is the key to building every kind of pyramid. Corruption has the same structure, at the very top one man/one block and tools are dropped in by a chopper with a pilot that wants in on crime and out of his flat afrikan time.

You have lost faith, haven’t you? Know that I can’t blame you entirely,
but my job is to make eternity last as long as possible if thats not too much trouble. You sit back and watch your trees and their roots old as old enough to stand some
more but its hot and theres an extra 33 million in your developing galloping governments less sophisticated than a viking, less humilated than a african zit on the ass of the world will continue to sit and soon the borderless medical doctors and nurses flies home with gucci or Monsanto purses
everyone everyday has flirted many times to be convrted to be cleansed, to sing about what needs to be threatened, after centuries of robberies, rape and battery. Step out of the golden age of Europe, Africa you remember when you separated the Eurasia, you got the biggest river on the surface, thats energy you don’t have to purchase make them others suffer

Africa, the wildest and deadliest oldest fallen one in the most neglected collection of countries. face this

Do what you feel is needed and history will take a new leap and call you a savior. Use your voodoo use your myths navigate your course by the hieroglyphs, or have you lost the power you’ve never been able to show before? laziness or lack of testosterone get out of the way tomcare for one random name one random piece of paper. africa a challenge as a final destination to

Africa, you’re handed a chance from me now take it or prove what you know is not even half the truth of being used as a gumball machine for industry and later robbed for slavery and whatever the worth of what diamonds smeared in oilpools could have been.

Africa you’re cut out of the same cloth as every continent within the shores of the Atlantic sea and Middle East. I trust in you that what you do will earn people like me and Adam and Eve not to mourn what you never seized.

Africa, pretty please I’m not asking twice. It’s now or never all right?

With all the due and the respect beneath

Yours Truly

River Zeal

Low Lousy Loud Thing

-… a story that Johnny Cash and one of his many gut-wrenching country songs inspired me to write.
You should get which one:

So I am burned right down to the ground, right, like all that’s left of me is ashes I could be like the fucking legend of the Phoenix but I’m not. I sure as hell aint. The bird of Phoenix is graceful, there ain’t no graceful about me. Im like the phone in the middle of the dinner, just sat down, the only lousy time you get with your lousy family you got, but it’s the one you got and what’s you gonna do?

My name is Hickey Twister and I am not the president of the United States, Hell, I’m not even a congressman. I’m a man of the con if you change gress to grass.

Nobody would vote for me anyway, the way I look, the way I dress, maybe not for the way I talk but not smile. This is the time and place where I want you to have it. It. That There. This.

I start at the signal, there aint nothing trafficking my speed of knowing all meaning behind life, and I know the meaning is not being burned right down to ground like I am, right.

I am soon ashes but not ashes. It’s a good thing you found me though. Not many who uses this side of the land anymore, precisely why I came here in the first place, I presume I assume, but do I have my doubts? Sure, I have doubts too.

I remember being in the class room as a kid only once a week, my father you see. I had to work, since before six of age. And in the war then, now, the what they call in between the wars, I am a man of old, and I know the meaning of life, boy, treat your dog right, get a wife, get a proper education if you can but before you do I have a favor of you to ask. Actually two. I’m guessing since you don’t say nothing I can confess myself to you. Rose is ma wife, Rose is my meaning. Will you help me rise? It hurts to lay, find Rose you will I pray, find her and tell her my love. Rose, like the ray of light suddenly at speed of light the meaning of life, son you don’t understand.
I seem to be drifting in and.

Out of. Sleep.

Here, I got some pennies too.
It won’t last long the way it goes.

No son my pain doesn’t hurt as long as you run

And if you do find her and our son tell them both but

Dont forget of what I spoke, throw out your stupid croak

And Give my love to rose.

So Southern These Days

Sorta like that ish then right below your umbrella holeDig it deeper every night for thirteen nights then midnight rider boy in a bubble let me be jimi hendrix moment the tv is zapping through my channels i dress in transcendent as bored as a fly on the windshield track a trail through honey through it all i made you small and cadaver style instead your face smiles a grimy its a Indiana roll time reversed

Don’t you touch the sky dont you say nothing not really gonna be squeezed in summer sodajerk sex and love and home cooking rooster lays two eggs three’s a charm but all is seven as revealed in book of job, ragzugga job, nothing to learn, understand it, make it look satisfying rubbing is earning it nit slip walks in science fiction a firefly a fire hydrant the tigris a watershed the Eufratis is a Mississppi steam boat coral 74′ Nader Sanders landslide hashtags run for it.
Place the parts of the mothership inside the puzzle and come with me raindrops are you are the tv let me be poet slam poet shit poet coward poet bob dylan i am toilet too

Silly gone to holiday military bases premises on gold land crimson ocean time reverse let it pass its platinum its a hurricane a sunday sermon high typhoons over driftaway beach, grateful beach, historically symbolically ignored.
Indigo tumbleweeds the nightmare shifts armadillo arkansas armageddon ant architecture guaranteed forbidden social paranormal Hennessy fills a large house when it Hercules down in wormfood parish pity pardon pug it like a honky dog.

Conclusion

/we save a lot of energy to simply not define everything/same with analyzing and magnifying/some or frankly/ most of what has some value if/ you value your life and its reason/always seek out the people driven by curiosity/and kindness/ you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about/ if you’re not one of those people yourself/

/so save some energy by not to worry about that/you’re fine/I’m fine/we are fine/who said life should or could be easy/ knock on wood/ who’s there/ time and eternity or to be correct politically eternity and time/I’ve known them all my life it’s the nicest couple down on castle road/

/backing up my discreation/what to focus on I shall choose the blessed/you guys/ everyone’s incredible/everything’s forever/nothing is constant still the wheels that is/
our sun and moon are the two exceptions/they watch us with such interest that it’s/ beyond observation/if they were persons I would call it and obsession/

/but that would be an assumption based on unnecessary yearnings to define/understand/be certain an/
/I have zero of such nonsense desires/I’m occupied and elevated to a task much higher/ much more meaningless/that’s why I named my horse Imagination/to say that when I’m riding I ride for real/ here’s: the deal, instead of worry, think, rationalize/and/

ask for hints/just dare to feel/use your emotion before you lose the ability to function in what may not seem but still is the world for real/all you need is love/sure/but to /love you

/need to feel.

She’s Been Told

Long distance silence lost then gone Long histamine and cut up rosaries 

I could name a long long list

Sad story wetter than sheets

Sob story bad weather and feet
Prominent flute and maxWell gravy                                                                                           President mutes the providence of many

Upon the open scar of a long long list

Rain raining red letter day on demand, play

Raining rain soaking needles in the hay 
Long distances histamines the rosaries 

are gone                                                                                                                                                    Raining writer running raising an objection 

And the rosaries                                                                                                                                              are gone 

And the groceries are raw

And the end will never come

Because it’s gone and gone and gone 

Exodus no. 1 

If you see me walking to

You

I am not averting my eyes I am not turning away

I wait for you

I wait for you

Leann Amy , Leann

Sacred

Is our name 

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

Love you you

Seven steep steps and I am blessed by you 

Faeleen you are almighty 

Seven steps until you can rest and blessed 

By me

Ravens we three fireflies Frederick farewell rheel

One step until you can rest

One step until I am blessed by Amy 

This. Supremes 

All I ever wanted 

All I ever wanted 

All I ever wanted 

 All I ever wanted 

All I ever wanted 

All I ever wanted 

All I ever wanted 

  All I ever wanted  

  All I ever wanted 

Was you 

pURE – All The Pretty Horses

Song by Pure

All the pretty horses but all the ugly girls
I’m sitting on the edge of the worlds
Watching all them pretty horses yet another summer
My name is Shepard sam, i am a horse observer

All the pretty horses

Wild, untamed sunset in summer
I was watching with binoculars
Never to disturb, for

Observation is my curiosity rover

All the pretty mustang horses, the stallions, takes my breath away

I am a man from the coast, from the south, from west and last from north
I travel around the globe to observe all my pretty horses
Two of them equals ten armed forces

All the best cowboys have got daddy issues
I’m on the inside looking out towards the blues

This world is a funeral home box of tissues

All the best captains have water in their gin
I’m on the highland watching low

In sun, snow, fog and rain

I am a man from the coast, from the south, from west and last from north
I travel around the globe to observe all my pretty horses
Two of them equals ten armed forces


Galloping, galloping out and in
riding on the edges of the world

Fireflies

Look at them lying there on the mahogany bloodstained bottom of a well.
It didn’t take a tick tock brain to collectively say a proper farewell. 

Then the music stopped.
The day the fireflies stopped to shine, color as wine, and started to hop.
The day the fireflies stopped the music.
My loneliness scratched into the record player something anything pop.

I’m a captain trying to be in the grass. I saw you last. I ran so fast
You couldn’t catch me half the time. 

I’m a katamaran trying to hide in the brass, I saw you last, in the grass.
Y
ou ran so fast. 

A rainy afternoon 1990 the last grand stand of the heritage of the vast middle-class
It’s easily dismissed as a fantasy mystery chant with shattered sooted glass.

Then the music stopped.
And the whole world stopped cause the mouths didn’t speak the language didn’t utter
The day the fireflies stopped the music
And the whole time the fireflies muted in the south did so shine like golden butter
My loneliness a manifested mannequinn a maniac machined bonecutter

Look at them. Fireflies in number seven.
I can’t help believing they shine from heaven. 

After night-time and nap time death. 

Look at the fireflies in number seven
 can’t help thinking they shine from heaven

For us still living to remember. 

Living still to remember.

Living still. 

Witches Hour

Who dares to knock at my door at this hour, don’t they know it’s the witches hour?

The time where everyone on earth sleeps and bleeds.

Who dares to knock at my door at this hour, don’t they know it’s the witches hour?

Who dares to knock at my door at this hour, don’t they know it’s the witches hour?

The time where everyone on earth sleeps and bleeds.

Makes no sense

W A R P O – RACE OF MUD

Dog food prices are being reduced

Numbers of soldiers are being produced

If they still desire, they’re able to choose

The grinders are grinders are grinders

If they still desire, they’re able to choose

Lay down your weapons, call of the fight

If they still desire, the grinders, are able to choose

The grinders awake with dirt on their shoes

Into the night

The dogs that walks in your bathroom really doesn’t say much

Imagine a come alive animal in your pants

Imagine a free world baby, with none of the demands

Imagine a free world baby, with none of your demands (still, still

Still riding all across the night

Even though

The evening flows

Into the night

Lay down your weapon, called officer (Deep deep light)

About Trump: Haiku

River-Zeal © 2016

Listen how much he talks
About money, cash, investing, debt, millions of dollars
Saddened he didn’t even mention me
//       //

 

Listen to him on education
Reminds me of a kid in my class
He too had a rich father

//   //

 

Listen to all he hates
It’s a longer book than the holy bible
It’s just everything but himself

//

Listen to the ocean and wind
Embrace  yourself far away from everything him
Money, hate, education, miss universe

/

Three Tongues, One Mind

(warning: this document has tested positively and pretty high on radiation tests showing levels over what  the chinese governement (WHO) says it should be according the ‘peasants-limit’, if your eyes start to feel dry contact emergency personell and stay in a frozen position until you are picked up)

This is not an attempt to scream, nor to dream although that would be nice to experience.

This is no article about nothing, this is not on the record, or inside one single mind.
This is not a document and this was never written.
Nothing to say, don’t say nothing, go be smitten.
This is of no value and therefore not either hidden nor have your son not been bitten.ii

This is not another allegory, nor is it a real life horror story, by all means no.
This is not bible verses, not inherited, sold, bought, picked up, or printed anywhere in time, both past, the presence and future.

This is not relevant, none of your business, this is out of no one’s explanation.
It’s not logic, nor radical or classified or justified. Just denied.

This makes no sense so it never existed, did you see something?
No, No No. You?

It was not a love letter, not a statement to my nobody followers in no countries for young men, and young men’s cats and wives, if nobody tries to do nothing, nothing is gonna happen to us.

This is not lies, these are not the truth not even fiction.
This is not the last will and testament of the missing Dr. Livingstone, either, ma’m.

These lines horizontally, even vertically and some diagonally makes me dizzy, this hole of no air popped out of nowhere.

This is not a word and this was never a sentence. This is neither valuable vaporizers nor is it manual maintenance. This gives no meaning, moral or proof of nothing, the missing ink on a Tabula Rasa is just what makes Medusa do nothing bad, nothing good either.

All things are either ungood, or just not a thing at all. Like a Tabula Rasa, a new year, a new husbond, new dog, new mugshots and needles in the sponge.  This piece of great white vastness is the fastest and saddest way of leaping a secret.
A secret?
Shhh, family sworn to hide, they died when Medusa discovered the corpses when she awoke after tripping the chainsaw still dripping.

This is not a confession, I am not her fater, no abortions, bo births, no sex, no nurses.
This is not a question, but give me that piece of paper.

This is no time for your childish teasers, next on the tour is the sniper eaten by a wild white tiger, usually it takes seconds but today is no different,

The wind stole the piece of paper, and the answer is literally blowing. Plowing through shaking through jetlagged through organs and monsters and polar bears and haunted hauses for nothing. Are you hurt?
No. You?

No, never, we keep waiting, for a comet so convenient it would have been right now. Just go to sleep in bed with dinosaurs and doo-doo’s and moo-moo’s and the sabletooth when it almost got you in the ass.
It was your ass. It’s the same ass.
Ssshhh, not so loud.
The next on the program is over and out. Roger and everything.
Nobody manages the lights, the brides the smoke, the coke, the vitamins and vicodin and viagra and vertical muscular ventilation I swear, in my lungs there are zero bits of air.
Are you there? Are you there? Brother? Hum for me please!

This is not as practical as the love-triangle from last year, now all I will do to people is give them a good scare. Maybe even heart-attack. Frack! Frack! Can I get two selfie sticks with those explosive golden carbonmonoxide rings.
I am still admitting no defeat because I never fought. I never fight so therefore I am free to go cause two wrong’s always make one right.

Unless, of course, no obviously nothing to tell. This is no news bulletin, no post-it stickers stamps or socially worse allowed within the provided lines from the life-extending capsule-making chambers. It’s funny. They’re called life-extending capsules but I live right next door to Pfizer and actually never knew one of the top advisors, in the nineteen nineties and those capsules smell just like my siamese twin of old age, like every respectable male and kin in our country. No one ever gets sick or even hurt by anyone.
We are grateful for that we don’t have to say Grace before we eat because we like to eat better than to speak, same reasons the younger generations reproduces constantly like to consonants or to vocal chords or all aboard for fun time, come with me, i have a hole for us to peak.

    ◙

 

Who Sits At The Kids’ Table?

Number one was actually the one born last.

But remember all of this happened in the past

Number two was on the road in chaos of traffic

And she went on to go missing in the pacific

Number three were always so happy and gay

They married conjoined triplets one hot summer day

Number four was if you will the black sheep

He is still somewhere out there selling jeeps

Number five was stillborn just like that

Maybe mother zero didn’t mind the gap

Number six however is a sunshine story

Around him was the ink tasting taste of glory

Next was the female naughty number seven

She just dropped straight out of heaven

Next is eight their brother of the mountain

Every night he lights his pilgrim lantern

Next is nine and was the first one born

She was black and harvested corn

Number ten was the last one as of yet

Mother and Father zero never again met

Free City

i saw a toaster taxi
like the wind it flew by me
in the middle of fourth avenue, nyc
i saw a twister taxi
long time since last time i see

here is a man lying facedown
as americans we are used to be the clown
by the mad hatter in central park, nyc
here is the crescendo in the sound

it melts steel its true
at least said somebody i once knew
in the middle of life we are in death, nyc
dead the person on the bed
after that we paint the house red

it smoothes up again next year
its a mona lisa its supposed to be very rare
in the middle of the face a sticker says go away, nyc
so slow but hurt i changed my gear
and then i got the hell out of there

 

at least that’s what you’re told
winter is hot, summertime is cold
in the middle of the equator breaks a string, nyc
i dont even know, but it will come the undertow
a yellow tie, wanna try to do bold
and then i get the hell out of there

lo and behold the walls are falling
honor and prejudice are calling
in the middle of the church lives a devil with a rug in his eye, nyc
i must say your home is appalling
look at the drought in California and Poland
i dont have yet what you’re demanding
let me change places the occult is occuring

spy for it, kill and eat the information
anything is classified law of jurisdiction
you don’t care for the disease and binky journalism, nyc
money drives the mad hatter half-disullisoned
flights are now closing all their settlement, let’s bet on a speculation:
New York City girls boys gays nurses mothers, butlers, auctioneers, the crowd-colored, the infrared equipment boxes, hookers gathers for a speedover in a super rocket
what fights are we willing to overdue and delay
it took some time but here is nowhere to stay
tiger baked an eleavator and air grey as a morning in may
this is my new york state of whatever here is
the needle in the hay

see that, im not that senile yet
i think ill start with vodka and a rifle draped around my net
see that, around its getting wet

in the middle of the world sits everyone
traveling speed of light and engines comes undone
in the middle of the world sits everyone

yes i saw a toaster taxi
in the sunshine free city
the driver licensed to be from kentucky
in the middle of the end in the middle of you and me, nyc,
driving a women horny and incredibly hungry, nyc
drving a man insane and burgundy, nyc
and im getting the hell our of here

 

 

 

 

Lunar Sonnets 

Richard was given misgiven information.
He ignored it by case of satisfaction

All alone in the amusement park

Richard found himself in the corner of qualification
Trying to escape the fire escape by using his skills of mutalation.

Henry arrived at the gate at seven past seven
He was on a commercial jet from tuesday heaven

All so lonesome in the dark

Henry overdosed on magic ten over eleven
Trying to ejaculate the most of his seamen

Gloria used to live in the city of New York
Brushing her teeth and stood over pork

She was the symbol of darkness

Gloria eating fruit from the ground with a fork

She was a witness to the murder of the doorknob dork

Jupiter was never one of the Titans

Neither came he close to be one of the giants

Elephant and castle is flooded by piccadilly fountain

Jupiter was the first homeless person to climb a mountain

 

Sandra was a spit and a fuck in her girlfriend’s eye

Her girlfriend had an obsession with how to fly

Black holes are a black spider

Sandra had before last night never been high

And as the story goes it made her father yell her mother cry
Me, I’m just a lawnmower

A musical box on mechanical power

Dripping dreams are allowed in the shower

Sadness like that is a lot like pouring water

Tell me tell me you have already sickly steady told her

Quid Pro Quo

https://soundcloud.com/mars-roadkill/quid-pro-quo


Quid
asked the squid with the highest bid and driest nostrils on the hills
Pro summoned the prayers of the desolate prisoners abandoned on death row
balancing between today and tomorrow
Quo ruled the judge appointed by the director of his own favorite episode of Doctor Who

As most latin phrases quid pro quo is most likely stolen by hip-hop gangsters,
the so-called musicians of the century no.
twenty-one-zero-zero mission undone
Quid Pro Quo I start.
Quid Pro Quo echoes over the multiverses in mellow mantras and manic manifestos
like miracle marionette commercials
on high frequency broadcasts signals
Quid Pro Quo to the boxer left in the ring
to see his skin turn violet
into indigo
into the Hardy Brothers, Goofy and Nancy Drew
brought with them
Winnie the Pooh and every childhood hero
to descend into heaven’s mystic blue

For the sake of my consciousness and gratitude
towards every aspect containing
many or just one large hole
quid pro quo sounds best when lowering voices
decides upon the cycles
of the full moon
when and who to run and
when and who may to tip-toe.
It’s no fun to lose your favorite shoe
Ask Cinderella about the amount of rubberband and
superglue and what is left to do
(2)
Than to follow the trail of that Quid Pro Quo
Quid Pro Quo goes around a second time
Time machine travels numbers in rhyme
1,3,2, Quid Pro Quo is open for everyone
2,3,1, Quid Pro Quo is open just for you
3,2,1 Quid Pro Quo is open for me.

Do the Status Quo with the Quid and the Pro as assets
Believe me,
In Peking,
in Tibet
in your bedroom lies so many
wasted answers, narcoleptic asshole makin’ masters of belief
Recklessly careless about you in your grinding and your grief

never asking,
or laughing, not even
lonesome dancing upon the lovely day comes
crashing

just smashing stuff, intensions good dashed hopes
Muddy English ropes
the phrase ran down
the navigator’s ladder to
below a seasick bladder pretending
life and love doesn’t matter
No thanks, none for me, pass the platter
the phrase would gather a coalition,
of ancient words ands slangs and stinking stuff smitten sacrificing sacred
all you ever will and have created

(3)
With patterns and a rhythmic rhetoric released the ink from the Incas
Magic exile elixirs of spoken words not used by any animal to date; abysmal
Loophole again, quid in the midst hasn’t been written since
London was burnin

Some might call this a destiny,
some say words only lead
to rape, seduction, descriptions of
hate and
private matters / Britannia chambers closed forever in

A complete mystic blue
in bubbles a chant
singing and begging for shit that
you want you won’t see
what you want until the acts of the
people real sized
Then before your eyes realizes

it materializes, talk bout hypocrisy

(4)
Configure the spell of the quid, allow the wound to bleed,
Connect the spell of the pro, separate lies from what is true
Then Contact the spell of Quo, go where the map suggests you to go

Abysses of dismissing hissing snakes
orange juice peelers with saxophones
dropped by passengers, all aboard sunken ships
as the passing of the poles generates what’s hip
even the ever biggest
undertow to be classified by
classmates not understanding
your latin, your greek, Egyptian
your songs of green, yellow, violet, brass and blue

A ray of quid pro quo appears and disappears before your sight
As nothing but a motion in fast
In unbelievable heights
Running liquid absinthe serves
its purpose
best with pies
of squid, but you got no time,
you don’t even like octopus
or the
taste of cherry juiced
riddles that don’t make sense,
you got hurry old man, mix in coriander and lime
time in reverse youre getting as young
as the white kid,
no longer
status quo, but feeling so and so,
for every undertow
washing upon the shores
of sorrows by
The ocean,
as well as what the water bearers undergo

(5)
to move in water waiting in despair
hand at gear until
you constrain yourself
to a single code, a single
mission given to you even though you declined
the pipes to overflow
your own kitchen because
the sink will rust,
save the kittens
and the wheel it awaits a captain with a calling
so true that he can
Britannia navigate navigate out, or in,
or beside the wall opposite above or below.

(6)
Quid Pro Quo again, and it rushes by. Sayonara, So long, Aloha, Adios, Senorita,
Tres Amigos never quitting
to prioritizing the quid, the pro, and the quo,
The ocean chains rusts into a chance of getting out of this potion and ,
sing of joy and swords
sing of rain that pours
sing a latin hymn
and
dangerously
don’t be afraid to see

As all the laughter of the animals on pilgrimage in
Central,
Southern Europe, these three
words mean to reflect upon the ladder of life what clings high
and what clings low.
Meanwhile the crow is squeaking: Quid Pro Quo

(7)
Persuasive ancient astronauts said quid pro quo
in a time before language
when girls first learned to kneel
and boys learned how to throw.
Women how to feel
Men how to gently bow

Even before that, when
most people say space wasn’t even built
and nowhere to escape to, or simply go to, or from.

One, two thousand miles of gratitude shows
the quid pro quo near equator and
both poles used to spoil the sun and grow.

These words, like a lantern
or merely a
lamp in the night or
darkness of a cave are sacredly
said to give a burgundy glow,
for hours if you use them
in the middle of ab aeterno, like ‘ab quid  pro aeterno quo‘.

Magical words are everywhere, it’s just hidden under the fascination for the latin language of old, but what is in reality streets paved in gold, the quid pro is the essence of the generation status quo.

In these times like any, it can be a spell within a spell, ready to overdue and embrace the true heir of the throne, considering options of peace and love

Exchanging the gagging of the gay pornography with a simple “oh”
The rain it pours, the summer drips, the birds plow and trace back their ancestors that never wanted anyone to follow.

Quid Pro Quo

Three words, and eternal meanings and translations lost and battles won.

Quid Pro Quo

Shifting and sharpening shark teeth hangs around the neck of the chosen one.

Quid Pro Quo 

The reason and creator of melody links harmony with humanity’s right to divinity.

Quid Pro Quo 

What says the doorbell after a night of rape and hate and worry

Quid Pro Quo

Works a four dimensional streets not saying anything,
and saying everything alone.

Your turn to play, pray, lay down, stand up, make
a change
for something that is your own entirely
and something to be proud of for eternity

Girl, Quid Pro Quo

 

 

 

202 H i l l C r e s t – RACE OF MUD

Pinocchio
Wolf and Whale
Little Red Riding Hood
On a bus somewhere

Together trippin’ around the sun

Conjoined driviving around the sun

Together trippin’ around the sun
(dripping like honey around)

Together trippin’ around the sun
(dripping like honey,(drip drip dripping like honey)

Conjoined together around the sun

Together trippin’ around the sun

Conjoined and driving around the sun

TRUE PARADOX

https://soundcloud.com/mars-roadkill/true-paradox

(How to fit in Society) 

dream the movie instead of paying for it

dream the wheel instead of driving it

dream the horse instead of riding it

dream the shirt instead of wearing it

dream the puzzle instead of solving it

dream the war without fighting it.

dream the poem instead of writing it

dream the letter instead of writing it

dream the doors and windows without washing them.

dream the coffee, jungle-juice without drinking them

dream the fucking without touching it

dream the trespassing without running it

dream every song every beat every strum without playing them

dream the phone call and the happy ever after without realizing that

dream the clothes and time without bothering

dream the murder without killing him or her

dream the truth without lying about it

dream the happy and bliss without faking them

dream of you without your mother ever gave birth to it

dream the birthday present without earning or deserving any

dream the future without the past in it

dream the rules but never follow them

dream the connections were strong but weaken them

dream the jump but dig it instead

dream of the crazy in your head but keep passing the open windows

dream today tomorrow but fake its sorrows

dream of Ginsberg, Frost and Burroughs

dream of learning your lessons but fail them like only you can fail

dream of a good lookin body but cover it with veils

dream the mind but forget you know how to

dream of the world but place inside your own egoistic view

dream of billions of people but imagine all of them are you

dream at night but stay awake during the pm hours

dream the silence but scream louder than all other fires

dream you hate the moon but bow your head when it rises

dream of man but made by being grateful

dream of god but make it less hateful

dream you teach me that to dream is the most useful

dream you awake and be forever grateful

Catharsis

The captain’s head is all I ask
The blame is always concrete delivered.
The last cut is the man behind his mask.
The riddle of the sphinx gets bewildered.

The father of the throne I seek
The guilt is always laid upon those disgusting
The havoc they placed upon the weak.
Then I saw the water and the red stings.

Dripping like a dream in the end
Crying for what might have been
Salute the astronauts my friend
Don’t tell me to lose, when I know I’ll win.

This time around one more 

SAVANNAH – Race of Mud

‘Past is now the old future
No delusion; no rapture
Mild Cognitive Impairment
Stop pursuing for the future
(Miss my)

I miss my priest tonight, I miss him
I miss my priest tonight, I miss him much
I miss my priest, I miss him
I miss my priest tonight

‘Is that a crush of a bottle?
Is that the sound of something rotten
Is that the storm in the swimming-pool?
Is that the storm in the swimming-pool?

I miss my priest tonight, I miss him
I miss my priest, I miss him much
I miss my priest tonight
I miss my priest tonight

 

Hickey Twister

The day Hickey Twister sat foot in our town, things were to change and never be the same.

No one believed Hickey Twister could get that girl, but he did and no one has seen them since.

I’ve been looking for you Hickey Twister; where have you been?

The Prince of California from now on is to be called Hickey Twister

Every serial killer has his signature, mine is the hickey and my name is Hickey Twister.

Inside the stolen locomotive were Hickey Twister, his bud Ray Charlotte and four of their men.

What is that in the sky? Little Hickey Twister pointed to his mama and asked with big opal eyes.

Being the only one in the room with a profound love of insects, the ever so enthusiastic Hickory; or as we nicknamed him “Hickey” Twister started the 3 hour long extra credit entomology class by asking in plural to name our favorite bug.

Who are you Hickey Twister, or who the hell do you think you are?

My essay was supposed to be of my grandfather and his discoveries within the Andromeda nebula, but all i can think of his that damn Hickey Twister down my block.

 

A wasteland of Luciss

(kind solo plateau version)

Wild leaves lay scattered
on the asphalt

There’s no one out
Soundly solid sonic shouts in the distance

Move straight up the street
Follow the wild leaves with your feet

 

Unwillingly hearing a bird in mono sings
Of armor of rapture mental patient wings
Behind the figure a garden
Of dust, scattered wild leaves

Trees are not to sustain
In the fluorescent medicated rain

Hazardous air retracts the atmosphere
And there’s no need for a sign to say nowhere

Take the rope fastened on top
Sink down slowly like a vacuum packed rock

 

Nothing lives down there
But Time and Place and Names

Three sisters are chained
Getting burned little by little
By the toxic rain

Who invented this blackness
This deserted lethal poisoned desert

Where in wastelands does he breathe
His name is Luciss and he’s angel evil

On land always invisible
Like the Angelus invincible an arrow
Hits your life with black well sorrow
Thrive and dive and dwell and swell
Copying wasteland versions
each a different kind
of Hell

I, miss America

I miss America home of the healthy
I, miss America queen of the wealthy

I miss America land of free will
I, miss America even to kill

Can I get all your attention?
Urgency calls into consideration
Our planet is damaged with deforestation
Species has started to reverse evolution
Oceans will go into hypertension
Not to mention that nobody is listening
All they can see are my thighs glistening

I miss America home of the healthiest sick
I, miss America queen of the wealthiest rich
Our planet’s leaders are locked in detention
Busier than bees getting promotions
The billions of people must make pollution
They aren’t given one alternative option
Where do they hide the United Nations
Look inside their churches their gas stations
Is it all just about counting inflation
Tell them we are in our fifth mass extinction
Not to mention, why then bother?
Promised connection to our brothers?
Gone like a bottle without a message
Gone faster than hyper-suspension
What to do, if there is no resurrection?

I miss America land of free will
– I, miss America even to kill
I miss America my roots and home
– I, miss America skinny to the bone

What if this is a blessing?
Sooner into Heaven’s ascension
Do we dare that speculation
Our ancestors passed on a lesson
Generation to generation to obsession
With calculation, sexual stimulation
Where to throw my garbage expansion?
The same hole we use for penetration

Pretty please, just a second of attention?
I miss America before the depression
I, miss America likes to watch crucification
I watch it every night on my televisions
So please listen to my manifestation
About the upcoming revolution
Because I don’t like this confusion
It’s not my job this investigation
Nor do I like this type of confrontation
So I lay down I pray for solutions

I miss America home of the healthy
-I, miss America queen of the wealthy
I miss America land of free will
– I, miss America even to kill

Wildflower Girl

https://soundcloud.com/mars-roadkill/wildflower-girl

Can I give you a piece of advice?
What the hell, I roll the dice:
I bet you know about the wildflower girl?
In the garden always until sunrise
She’s a violet dangerous devouring pearl

Do never let her speak to your eyes
I can’t offer no how or any why’s
That garden is her given sanctuary
Beneath her beauty cannibalism lies
Before dawn do not tread the prairie

Please value your life and its reason
Few are as pretty as Satan’s demon
She will eat you up raw and alive
A violet garden is a violet prison
On soldiers like you she thrives

Don’t even think about going in
Your soul can’t afford another sin
Don’t let her speak to your heart
Against wildflowers you’ll never win
Nothing is better than being apart

She plucks flowers in the hate
And so you went inside her gate
What shall she eat for supper
Perfect-purple wildflower bait
White bread and jam and butter.

With lust shall lust expire
Such strong jaws will not retire
Like so many young men she ate
You share with them a common wire
Thank God, I have left no desires

Who am I? An ersatz warning sign
Who am I? She’s always been mine
I created the garden, for my girl
As wildflowers rises high and wild
Violet the dawn, violet the world.

I’m The Skull

 

I knew you would be here
I dont know from nowhere
It came and picked a pear
I knew it’d happen somewhere

As I lay here slow and dying
I’m not myself darling
As I read slow as i lay dying
I’m myself pelican flying

I feel as the skull the bull
I feel numb, dumb, the skull
I’m here for the long run
I’m in it to win it,  finito done

I’m the other                accident
I was born as a             fragment
No bedroom will get my distraction
I’m the skull with no attraction

There’s no one to avoid
Only people to annoy
Or people to destroy
Solid, skulls, stoned arrow

I was born next year
I was born as the night grew near
I was born picking pears
I was born always changing gears

All the staged,
lame made sad pickle

the pickle is sad and penetrated arrested and interrogated
i am happy i never got arrested or HIV tested
sad sad pickle

 

I’m The Skull
I’m The Skull
I’m The Skull
I’m The Skull
I’m The Skull

 

 

 

 

 

AFTERHOURS -RACE OF MUD

Join the moment
Get into the blue

Join the movement
Get into the blue

Join the moment, join the movement

As the sound of morning
meets the wolvess house

We glide together in a blue, blue ballon in sunrise
Nothing you were ever taught
was ever true
join the movement
get into the blue

Palm is wetter than the sand from here you stand
at the beach holding
our feet
and holding hours

///////

at the streets in the naked hours
at the corner of nowhere
in the afterhous

(join the moment, movement, moment, movement,)
Get Into the blue

Roadland

I met a man the other day
He said his name was Hemingway
Just another soul to stray
To try to read and stack away

I once worked as a servant
Nervous weren’t working merchants
So I quit and fell earnest hungry
Introverted in, in, into the current

I drove up high I drove there steep
Hung low under or above your feet
Lung love clove lingering street
A road sign, leading me to roadland

No more crying, said the crier
No more frying, said the friar
Use these lines to read again
Use once and useless then

I find myself at loss for words
I find myself at the end towards
A road unchanged, destined to gain
My empty shell, my house of cards

Yellow said to purple ‘slow it down’
He was spinning spiral-bound
Last night I heard the Hellish sound
The barking of the reaper’s hound
Green said to yellow ‘stop’
Blue has no more pills to pop
Indigo and Emerald and the last living General
in between the carnival and slaughter houses
I refuse to say its name
I refuse to play this game

I make my way making up
Im joining in another club
I lie and glide and fly as cherubs
To the rim of my last supper cup

Silvery somewhere around near here
Something golden lies buried where
I dug it down as William Shakespeare
Dug up his script King Lear

Names a character to play
On the radio, In the roadland
On the road, In a radioland
Beneath all this far behind

Zero hours to make in miles
A million ways two million lies
One to the nurses killing flies
Another for the searcher’s spying wives

Run, run, run along
Sun, sun, sun among
The sea sea sea
What do you seek?
After another brutal
mischievous
meltdown
week
in this roadland
i can’t stand
anymore colors
or writers
of flappers
flip
splash
flush down

Whatever it Takes

Whatever it Takes

What to do when do the crossword

And how I know you don’t care

Practices the promises you dare 

(Shake It) 

Whatever it takes, you said

Make it rain. 

Let the heaven’s rage, let me have it, 

Whatever it takes

Let it bleed

Down like rain, make it rain

Let the sky move, like the ocean moves,

 for whatever it takes

I still hear it in my ear

Famous Last Words

How do you dare, make it rain

on your parade, 

are you desperately restless and hungry in despair frustrated 

Antagonizing every piece of evidence for fundraising champagne breakfasts and pie pie pie

in your rain

make it rain 

down on me on me me me

till the end

summer sea sea sea sea

all is mine (holy,holy)

i picked the final straw (lies, lies,)

i feel so alive in the vatican it feels close to satan 

driving down mulholland drive

mile after mile with all the time nazi prospect

in the world of MY BAND your band your writing my  writing everyone writes

helpless, careless, name one, they’re all penniless nameless irritated about their own ugliness

like us, like birds, flirts, curiosity killed buzz aldrin, 

i don’t age, like he, like the clerk behind the made up counter, higher, light my fire, where are you

Fire Fire fire

make all the world burn

i got matches

make all the world burn up

is there life on mars

make it rain

make mars burn

then the city of angels and the sea of tranquility 

 whatever it takes

let the rain bleed

down on me 

my curse is your boat 

you drown i float

you know why i hated you

God, you know i loved you too

Is this some civil war residue

for chrissake make it rain

for whatever it takes (holy, holy,)

let the heavens rage (bony machinery)

let’s start the next great flood

with blood 

whatever it takes, just act cool dont say nothing

just nod

The Crossing

https://soundcloud.com/mars-roadkill/the-crossing

‘Might have been mighty once
Mighty has since then been lost in chaos’

Followed by thunderstorms and hurricanes,

tsunamis, forest fires, sea typhoons
Sinkholes, sicknesses, sacred wisdom the world looks different,
stripped naked.

Death follows love, and after
death follows constraint consciousness as a matter
Of flying solo or fall together accidentals moved
so i chose the latter.

I managed to cross the river, in a fifty two
to fifty seven diameter shot
of getting caught
Struggling to be done upon and get it over with,
like a quick fix, two ducks in the dock
Has anyone eaten? How many children are we crossing over or under just these twenty four hours?

No mind in its right mind can do the counting within the limits already provided with faulty facts, fishy smells of lection laughing at other and autocorrected numbers.

Pilgrims laugh at other pilgrims for risking human suffering

Pilgrims with their paper declared aren’t pilgrims as pilgrims with their paper declared are
How many souls are crossing as the finger fingers, types or pull a trigger,
where now, from where to go, to hence and dawn
into newly weds and old couples drooling over those chinatown delights,

silverchops and chinese heaven
fire fire fire! the ladder, from where now,
from where to be allowed to be allowed

water, water, water! the mother of life is needed,

now they stopped breathing already in a grieving over there at the crossing.
Barbaric? Clumsy?

Jews, and catholics and catholic-protestant protesters with enveloped wings
hunted and haunted with dogs with eyes
looking down the barrel
of a whole new religion, two new languages,
separtion is the key to immigration, placing people in the same exposed steep high steps should be granted to rest
on the ground of land is it one thing we share, its the crust, by crust, of the earth. The third planet Telius.

Pretty and blessed, blue are the northwestern skies of the west,

This is not a statement anymore, ban it, pour it, spoil it, boil it, , undo it

HEY you swore you could do this.

These test denials is just like the end of that riddle
telling the difference between a working desk and a raven

Nobodies are coming. Nobody loves the way a child screams, or teaches in a day forty classmates hanging with their faces on the walls labeled missing, they also undertaking the crossing.

Is it barbaric or just clumsy? What is this? Who are we in reality?

What says the siren of the steep tunnel leading men and women to change genders, genetics, garlic, Gods and powers for being raped or poisoned by a snake naming himself diplomat in tennis shoes, hangs around with ears too smooth for stories of the celtics, slavs, greeks and romans, even royals gets a donkey for a lie and spitting in the wilderness of miles thousands of squares driving the crossing as a perfect circle, a perfect net, a draped dry grape, away, come, away, run, sleep, will you bear with me?

No Christ. No Buddha. No Rabbi. No Guru, No  No driver, no military officer no messenger of lovr or homo sapiens sapiens can help you. Between you and everyone else, all the time,

for as long as your days counts surrounds by the crossing, a gap, a void,
some dwell in the light, some sparks in this medieval fire fire fire

Some do the shameful acts of blowing up garbage and rocks only to see the day and the crossing over infinite and already projected by more or less prophets changing beards and accents to cows and smaller cries to sink the hunger, beginning to thunder, in a vomiting father figure beheaded by a gang of collectors of new tennis shoes, watches, shirts and meaty flesh. Such are the days sounding over at the crossing. Is it barbaric or just clumsy?

No one yet attended the educational pilgrimages of the manifestation of saying that or there, true or false only when and where the crossing enters the realms not yet discovered. So hurry over the Rio Grande, Mississippi, the Gibraltar strait. Because it’s already nearly overdue too late.

Civil War Residue

https://soundcloud.com/inkaink/civil-war-residue

The Earthquake sounded like a terrible scream, as the chopper had gone down with the wind
Wine colored stars in the sky, headache brass daydream, a terrible fear

I stood shivering and emptied my pockets in the garbage bin, naked nothing I wanted to wear

The sound of the tectonic plates was like nothing i ever would dream. It sounded like a terrible fear
My children’s fear of loosing, my wife’s fear of choosing between me and them.

My own fear of sinking down in quicksand of despair, what is a family worth if not for sharing and caring for me to take care of them, and I stood shivering emptying my pockets, sat down in the sand and I knelt before the red sky and started to weep.
I felt so dumb.

Then it started to rain frogs, alive like a hoax from above. Suddenly the oil didn’t seem as vital as survival and the beginning of the end was on the lips of every leper and landslides went sideways over the beehives enter the stairway. No, scratch that everywhere a windshield cuts the mute from the world of sound and as white as a well dressed caucasian promising superior powers over aliens alienated across the badlands and stranded americans hoping in the end it will be 1999.

The Earthquake grabbed the boy and his sister with the hard truth the one that kills and goes after youth, like a terrible engine screaming I AM NOT MACHINE into eternity and they fled.

Hand in hand they fled from everything they knew, the soap of the dead, the dread locks of the skull, the pirates of the west coast, the jesters from the east, teaching each other harmonica scales and bandana wigs everyone fled as far away as possible. Turning people hostile. Against  one another, perfectly in order.

And the city, the country, the continent was abandoned, left hanging, left a mirage of a memory drowning with the generations.

A new era, I said, a new shining key to unlock the same kind of cages, as the earthquake still rages, the boy taught himself to read, to steal, to possess something to reveal a secret so forgotten and concealed it had to be the floating deal how to dream, how to be invisible, listening, skin glistening of apple pealing, scent of something moist sensationally meaning nothing saying nothing about the inventor of the wheel, the same cold lonely astronaut that continued into loopholes and corridors of steel, the farmers became doctors, then doctors grew into patiens then they were buried along the beach, where they used to hunt for sharks, dolphins, whales in the dark.

No moral, no underline sublime integral message divine or even artificial scientific meaning lies behind, just the trouble of having superpowers when everyone is superman himself and time makes immortal seem like belonging to a race of no moral, no red threads or silver veils, nothing at all to take into context of this existential complex rhythm of earthquakes and rawness.

It may, or may never dawn upon us.

In the end time grinds every song and wing into rusty flakes of dust and thirst and everything is best, busted, nothing in the end is worse, oh I almost said too much.

In The Distance

/To Robin/

I used to see the words you said. I used to see them as serpents all of us in different shades.
I used to see beyond my own horror stories into the depths of yours.
I used to wish you dead, I used to wish you were alive and well. I remember killing you and with that you saved my life.

Do you value your worth?
Do you value your birth?
In the distance from death

In the heat of the spell of justice i was  recently and mentally repelled , deepening the stink the rot and the smell.

I used to see the city in aerial, gaining momentum from supernatural high but I never saw the sky. I used to eat like a man, I used to dream about electric jolts, dashed hopes, silence and the second promised land. All the sights

I used to believe what I believed was by will and not by denial and a mother gone wild. My mother was brilliant. My mother was a prostitute and the supreme witch of the coven from our southern backyard. Brilliant.
Brilliant to feel the easiest sun on an eastern rise. Against it’s own demise, it was all mine. Brilliant to feel relieved yet deceived In the distance from perfection, yes there was a resurrection brilliantly made up by Da Vinci roaming free in the distance of his wisdom reveals a core of solid boredom and holy I used to see the words you said.
My mother saw the words coming out of me like a heavenly penetrating memory always of my birth. And how it ended so tragically for both of them, the nurse and the revenant irrelevant father that is the ultimate sacrifice in the end. Brilliant.

I used to sing because I didn’t know better than to shut up. Eat like a man. Mouthfuls of portions of meat and wheat the color from a dirty holy toilet seat. In the distance from the eastern easter bunny sun rising sinking stirring up my lime, my beliefs, my sins remains inside the depth of nothingness, like a flag flying where there is no winds, no hints, to where reality begins, don’t come to me and tell me Jesus died for your prescription pills.
As for mine, I flush them down the drain that I call throat and cannot speak or see music dance in patterns anymore than blind nuns and ravens on the wings.

In the distance from me alone, you gone again, how many times will you die before me, it just started as a newspaper cruelty of the death of poetry, the american pie, the first steps towards reconnecting to recollecting that in the distance from it all like a leaf in november rain im shaking. But still breathing, the queen is still breathing, the dictator is breathing still,

So why aren’t you?
Does your life now got some value?
Does your cunt still gnaw  and itch you?
In the Distance from death?

How many times must I kill you, to convince you that I will always win. Despite what you taught me about my brothers, my sisters, all of my kin. What colors are my words mother?
Do you see in colors? Do your colors see your honor as mine ever since?

Do you see anything but grinding teeth where you are beneath, waiting for me to say baby pretty please. I was wrong. You were right. Just to be gone again it was just another dream.
But like a statue of a soldier from some dusty war, i know I will always win.

In the distance from both you and him, and everything south of Wisconsin.

PELICAN HIGH – RACE OF MUD

 

Now my investigation suddenly turned into something nasty
Into something worse

Say the names of those you’ll burn quite frankly
I am not the judge

 

Now my cat has disappeared, now my straight
turned into queer

Now it tastes like salt again, now the son and the
sun is my friends

Now my intuition: exaggerating now my independence’s up for sale
that’s flattering

 

Now Im ready to be burned

Now Im ready to be burned

Now Im ready to be burned

It’s not yours now, I’ll take that turn

 

 

You See It All Just In Time

You See What You See                         And it all fits together perfectly

You see everything as it is already

In time, in the morning still early and uniquely sleepy

You glance down at your watch again                                                    You are standing in the sun again All alone but you’re so free

Sometimes you wait for the bus to arrive                                                 Sometimes you just saw it depart and have to wait again

You see what you see and alive and free you feel 

Feel like the universe breathes for you, again and dream of what you see and what you see and nothing is more real. 
You love him. You are uncertain about everything, you cannot stop wondering
That the love you breathe is actually reality

You see things so better than me. And I see well but not in time and not as easily

You know your place and where youre meant to be                       Always you see everything so clearly 

And that makes you want to sing of He                                                       He that is your hearts definition to love and everything has a meaning

Yes everything means and plans and falls so easily together like pieces you receive

From the universe drops down pieces you catch                                    And that makes you certain at last again

You see it as a puzzle and solving puzzles makes you believe

In make-believe, You believe in Hercules and know you will      

In time 

You see it all just as it is shiny and starry. I smell love from great distance                                                    The scent of consistancy and you feel harmony                           

So you don’t need me to convince cause you already believe                           Believes in it because of your love to He

He you see every day and know are real                                                          He you finally believe is not just another fantasy

You see it all and you are so alive and free. 
You see it all alone but you enter the bus happily, as easily as love

In time

You see everything as it is already

Just in time

How To Move The Island

(…Out of admiration for a scene in a well known tv series)

The mush mush moist jungle near the station Orchid
The jungle surrounds it now after what happened at the Pearl, broken.

These are the steps you must take, whomever to this is concerned.
These steps and exactly these if you not by now have learned.

There’s en elevator, guarded by a hijacker. If you are
And the generator takes you down with a lifejacket if you are
Who you say you are. In that I do believe.
May the south pacific greave if I’m mistaken taken you for who you say you are.

He’ll let you pass, he will not be interested in you. Who really is that really anyway?
In this tall grass.

Well inside youll press the button of iron
It’s engraved with a symbol of a lion
Press it one time and wait.
Press again, not too late
And it will take you down
It tastes like being reborn
It will take some time
Well hang on

It will be an old gitter that doesn’t automatically open
It’s glistening with glitter don’t soap it, throw your rope in

Try to make it to the hook, open your eyes, you have to look.
Everything is made of steel, not the bricks, is that the way you feel?
Once hooked upon, then just like in Swan, you will se saint-john

At least what’s left of his old fragment, can you imagine?
Being dead before time, and still never miss rhyme

“What’s the secret of the sphinx?”
Ask that question and saint john
will just blink

The gitter door opens when he’s gone again
He dont’t have time for all his agony, loneliness and pain

Ascend into the room and light a fire
Cause where we are going
Is as cold as the Grimphen Mire

You’ll find wood in piles, neatly lined in aisles
You brought your matches right?

Proceed down a ladder older as the be in the sentence
“Let there be Light! Climb down in your vengeance

I know it’s a long ride.

On the bottom there reigns a darkness
Like the bottom of the well, completely artless

Light the lamp you will need it
Down here you’ll get seasick
Let there be light
now pride, so bright, so healthy and damp

You see the horizontal steering-wheel
With the squeeks you will just have to deal
Ascend the wooden ancient work of art
Grab on hard, hold on tight-

and the island moves quicker than a dart

To somewhere not even saint benjamin knows
That doesn’t matter, now again you’re lost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plato Resigns – Race of Mud

Death follows love
In the sound of a summer morning

Death follows love
After tucking you in

Death follows love
Like the beauty within

Death follows love
In The Blossoming of Light

(Death follows hurt)

Death follows love
In the garden of Piss

After this. After this:

Death follows hurt
Like you’ve never seen

Death follows hurt
Even the most beautiful queen

The Astronaut

(Who the Astronaut might be – allegedly)

dead of an angelI3 years ago tonight, and the coral reef reflected the moments before the light.
You and me ages old, but always in love, like a couple doomed to fail to love
Like we love the sea and sky beyond above, spheres in colors never seen before.
And like a fool I saw the sun as bright. Before the Astronaut ascended me the sacred wisdom, of swollen light, ultra violet, violent green, sharp as a bayonet strummed as might. Shining boy.

Shining boy with his harp and wings and wigs and things. To trick tourists and florists and fluorescent jihadists at a safe distance. From the sunrise.

13 years ago it came as a bloop. A sound from the deep of a loop being played on repeat like some evidence of alien roots. It was the Astronaut walking on the water barefoot. The Astronaut or Angel or Clairvoyant blabbermouth showing signs to whom that is open.
Imagine a door with no key, or frame, or keychain, always open and no one to yell beause it afterwards never will be the same.

You and me ages old.  The Astronaut cannot be bought nor sold. A vision is for everyone, I was told. Imagine us diving. The water outside of Nippon, svimme is the new swim with me.

Just like a soft belly gaining on vision, knowledge and doors without always unlocked.
The astronaut may be the last chance someone ever got, to trespass the threshold through the door and lo and behold, no hate the Astronaut is love, the astronaut has a strong hold
gaining foothold preparing an electric jolt. Like the bloop just bigger and louder

Like a volcano evolve and forms into shape after its born, its no better exlanation I have no navigational chords, only hearts minds, and the word as my sword. While I swim with you.
The sun is up, hearts can jonjoin science, but never come close to be such a joke. Tesla might or might as well have not – created The Astronaut. But wherever he now resides and rests his bones, he laugs at us like cartoon paroles parodies so near but lightyears lost.

She sings the song og summer. He wants to be the sky above the river. You and me and our praise for being lovers. Without anything physical besides mutal shiver under the impression we are heroes.
That is what the Astronauts always wants. If you arent happy with this vague description.

Try it yourself, we were all born as cripples. And the dream dripping, and not it’s ending like the earthquake, the bloop and the big dipper.
You and me. Becoming Astronauts. Watch out for the jolt.

 

SPONGE

He tried imagining the world of the blind
In the belching of his destructive world
in his apartment
He tried imagining the world of the blind
The sounds, come and get me, the conventional sounds,
The usual sound of the cat
licking its paws
harmonizing with her jaws
together with the scrap metal silver and brass
sound of the refrigerator
clinking with the ice
in the glass
in the haze
in a ray of holes black sunlight beams forever
He tried imaging the world of the blind.

He listened as the waves rolled in through his living-room
He listened to the colors sing that song
He listened to the eccentric cry of a flower in bloom
Or dusk, and gloom,
Going down
To the belly of the earth
Tried imaginging
the sounds

of his heart
of his ear
of the cat’s paws
Nameless, he could not care less
Drifting in the world of the blind.
There were dances
Holding
Hold your breath
Drifting in the fire
of death
of his own, of his cat, of all the world
of the tiger, tiger silent
spinning on the record player scratching
the energy out of him
He recovered.

In the world of the blindfolded, in the greif of the dove gray widowers
He recovered
He imagined this world and what it breathes
as a sponge

He imagined the futuristic dreamlike state of being of Ho Min Chi
Surfing down the river Yangtze
World of the blind are dancing
with songs that seeing people cannot see
with colors imagined by none of us to speak
of no one
He imagined the holy presence of a lie
In his every step of drifting
In his every room of living
The day went
He kept dreaming of ruthless polar shifting
orbiting
the planet x howls and moans and haunts and thrills
the sounds of scaffolding towels
Look up
Into your own face
Dance
It’s a sponge
Dance
It’s a sponge

Like a rose, like a sponge, like the tongue of the cat, like a sponge
like a cancer, like a black sponge
Dance to the ropes
Hail down the breath of fire sponge icy sarcastic holy lie
What does bleeding sound like
Is it holy, is it absinthe, is a sponge?

Don’t complain about the sponge
jerk
sponge

S M I L E R – Race of Mud

Hey boy what’s your name.              It’s crucial that I stand corrected

Hey girl how are you- I’m insane.  Let’s stay connected 

SMILE. Because you smiled on Halloween.

SMILE. And you smiled all Christmas Eve

You smiled. You smiled. You smiled.

Hey Johny where’s my notebook
Its crucial somebody finds it

Hey Patti where’s my voice.
Do you have it?

SMILE. Because you smiled on Halloween.
SMILE. And you smiled all Christmas Eve
How very tragic 

Because you smiled on Halloween

From Babylon Back To Babylon

https://soundcloud.com/inkaink/from-babylon-back-to-babylon

From Babylon Back To Babylon

The branches entangles in the garden. Most of them rotten

Most of them crunchy, like crackers.

Most of them like crunchy crackers

The Branches Entangles in the garden.

Dripping tears In the hanging gardens of Babylon.

One of The others killed inanother one.

What is left of the seven wonders of the world but carbon gas, sandy grey grass, the world’s 7 wonders

One after another

They crumble to the Earth

As did the pillars of Hercules

And regarding Atlantis, the continent submerged

From Babylon back to Babylon the myth of flowers and grass and breeze where beneath

algae trees there sounds a mermaid sigh in grief

We poison her water she stutters and utters no more than a simple why. The question cries

She’s been to seven funerals and fears she is the next to

Die.

The objection cries, The jury cries

You shake your head while you let her choke. Your knife is merciful

You let her die right there. Right then and there

Mermaids are worth their weight in pearls, that’s why they are so rare. Mermaid boys get shot anything can happen to the girls

And by the music the lake always sings songs of dusk. Fog dancing. Fish. Splashing. Crunchy Branches Touch Humans keep laughing lighter and lighter lighter than the speed of light From Babylon back to Babylon

Until the lake swallow their heads in revenge and its ever darkened crave for silence in the Night. Vengeance in the night. Fire In The Night. Revenge in the night. Then Silence. Then Cigarette!

The seven wonders are cigarettes And marches, gasoline and tanksters, people starting fires.

The branches of the tree of life

Entangles just like The Ganges

Deep into space top of the heap of Babylon the race

To this funny place called

Babylon.

Ranches on the outskirts of Atlantis and the hippies in the sea of tranquility

Our next colony of cancers!

 

Immigration Havoc

When we say immigration
We must not forget a vital observation
People tend to flock in speculation, as known to create rhetorical
Existentialist visions and alarming questions
Also the pollution of cotton and sanitation dips into gravitational conventional concerns of warfare between nations, over vague elections and coronations of some orbiting

On the rotations of the invention itself a genius in radius of a sphere over there,
But look at the sick sick marionette designed old fashioned animal abduction
And grotesque meat production
With the carbon footprint legalization against every single allegation is worshiping Satan

In every anti-religion
Lies a golden road about evil incarnation,

manipulations then suffacation
And last but not least divine prostitution of the people, and at The same inhalation The Papal canonization of saints and horrible born again Christians
Are just searching some of the numerous notations one can use a megaphone’s vibrations
Again to broadcasting the wrong evolution theories, Older than the indignation of carnival erection.
Another evaluation of the discrimination that may or may not exists
In every navigational, logical, moral, and coral colored solution
To the soundest confusion and safest conclusion is a flu virus pandemic
Situation with hysterical, nocturnal and symmetrical submerged the mathematical information
After the air has cooked over the satisfaction og being regarded as an attraction, rises tanksters and morbid Penetration methods
And sinister sensational nationalism and racism
Hand in hand in a limousine paid for by gasoline
Trucking metre after metre of fucking propaganda tales and glistening gossip
Of slaves in graves
That once in life had a chance between purification and revelation,
Somehow ended up with crucifixion a new form of the transformation we have been used to for generations,
Death is not just against the constitution
I is calculating generating nearly no promotion on you
One association of so called civilized civilizations, any social demoralizing, industrial organizing transparency Waterboarded court-adjourned allegations and media aggression what then
Does the conjoined snake do?
It judgmentally clinically and effectively takes its jaws and bites itself into two pieces.
It fundamentally is both abnormally, baked buttery a sense of treason,
But sorry my discretion here it is as promised already on examination, this seems
To be the answer of meditational and financial institutions meaning of being, a ultra sensitive highly
flammable new Version of specialized, uniquely optimized medication that with dignity slows down the your blood’s pace of Circulation, the head shakes because the legs shake because the arms shake
discreetly Mother Theresa puts on a chapel
dress: now she’s a dancer healing the planet from us we are The cancer.
and a handpicked guardian angels must start everything on scratch, with manuals attached
so this rotten and ruined colonization of motivation, Twisted intention and desire to spit and be smitten can breathe oxygen: The universe’s ultimate and desperate final destruction.

And everything begins with immigration, my kitten

Star Me – Race Of Mud

we are all sitting around/
/we are wasting our time

it’s not just an apology/
/its just me on the rise

/when will it happen?//
/when will tibet be free
/when will tibet be free
you tell me

star me in your movie/ star me in your fantasy
/star me in your movie//
star me

the bridge, this tune and this melody
/it connects us all to the empathy//
/have i gone too far again/
have i used and destroyed your best friend

leaving the airport behind
always is strange to me
leaving the airport behind
is always weird to me

star me in your movie/ star me in your fantasy
/star me in your movie//
star me
star me
star me
star me

Order Of The Bees

The bumble bee
Harvesting his honey
Friendly and carefree
Discovered suddenly
My cup of tea
Unattended for a minute maybe

The busy bee
Was finally
As happy as
He ever was to be
In its overwhelmingly
Dance of victory
So impatiently
Returning to its colony
Was how he forgot his legacy
Far from his family
Alone out on a summer scenery
Scent of something sugary
Made his instincts really crazy
So when he knew unluckily
That in his hurry he did sting me
There I lay unattended sleeping for a moment maybe

Then came the grand jury
To enforce the law on flying free
Sentenced to death immediately
He tried to plead not guilty
He cried for justice and for mercy
Self-defense he uttered helplessly
The law was sovereign and stood steady as a summer tree
Yet violence craves violently
So the execution took place momentarily
The queen wanted it publicly
To show every single bee in uncertainty
whom of them was almighty

The law and order of the bees was to be enforced properly
Even the smallest apology
Would not be tolerated gently
Our bumble bee eaten alive by the Majesty

The Angelus

https://soundcloud.com/mars-roadkill/the-angelus

(Sanity’s requiem for promises true to its word version)

O’Holy Night the dawn
Rises
Rises again for the first time
First day after the first
Week

As the Creator exhales his
Drunk, barren, woolen, softer treadmill of reason
With his residue disciplines its Arch
Angels properly
Weak
Wrong side
Of the ladder
To the

Claims The Angelus, is that a claim?
It was the first of the fallen
the fallen nine
As rocket science rocket man rocket breach
Acting rockets shoots down like healthy
Broken Arrows.
Rotten Robot. Another claim.
Another rock is why just not
Why just because

With his sinister troubled mortified
Civil war scars of it
The angel, Claimer Killer, Question mark, there lies,
A, the
Deepest truth,
Hollow howl,
Of the
Real Creator

And so for advancing
developing,
staggering,
lingering, a nun
Trafficking, les premier homme
the question
Mark
The middle
Thing

O’ holy as the parent of this immortal creature
Let the heaven’s rage.

And the Creator spins the
Of lucid, elusive, yearning, yawing and yielding
To Surf
On
To Hold
On the
Wheel
Down to live amongst
Men

Not as watchers
Not as men
Not as prophets
Not as thieves
Not as beggars
Not as kettle farmer
As a fallen

Where it dwells today on
Sweet wrinkled raisin pillows
Black as ravens against
Its arch
Angel wings, demon breath
Angel dance, demon dance dance dance
Angels spins on the
Wheel

A big city
In the West
A big sign
A big tent
A big freak show lair
It saw a passing there
And hides its luminous
skin deep within
Promises promises promising
Eternal darkness, a
Requiem
For Sanity
For Government Disciple Hieroglyphs
Laughing On the
Fireplace
Fire scent, sense of smell,
Angel dust,
It is
Waiting.

Always a drumming rhythm attracts
Attention at amongst apostles
Afterglow
Warning of Creator
And its sense of revenge
Claim. Creator. Game
Change

About its own intentions and own inventions and information as indictment fashioned drug declining
Super mega jupiter
Ultra dosage
Sinister sane, citizen marx, oscar wild thing reasoning for eviction at heaven’s
Gate
the Garden immortal never claims
Clings to beg a differ, calculating
Every sin,
Every fallen wing
Saying to the
Angels of the sinister angel
City in simplicity: nothing

As for most of moist colored dips of paper fled
Tumbleweeds fucks hummingbirds, tropical
Killer bees, the serpent, the beast, aztec d n a
Amphibian ancestors tell their peers, to throw
A scenery of society will cause a difference involuntarily
Invulnerability imperfections
On its own reflects
As close to nothing, nothing, nada as impossibly hopelessly superb

The figurine that is known as the angelus
Casts a terror horror image of a
Superpower, Opera lover, lightning strikes.
However
Lots of grace
Ham and the 23 psalm
Grace

In fallen angel speed down to earth,
Its figure is both elegant embryo formed
It makes the spine
Go downhill
Lightning strikes again
Nearer than that toy sided tipsy television think tank theory
Before It sucks out all of the words, on which it feeds
I have to reveal just one small speculation
Sinister sin suddenly shaking suits spacesuit
Its energy on me
Question
Mark
Question

I have to claim
The angelus
Doesn’t seem to be evil
As its sitting still
Reading of denmark, of mesopotamian kiss of portugal:
Reading of requiems for sanity, destiny, Athena, Pandora,
Ready film it
As takes on wings
Then puts on motorcycle
Glasses

And so it flies away lightning speed
Over the valley to feed
As said on word, on thought, on questions
Randomly
Suffering
As
You and me
Everyone is a promise
Broken
Sounds
Its last recorded revolution
Claim moment

The angelus
The first birth, les premier homme
Of sacred knowledge, informative, did never devil!
In reality out of realms ,did never ever in history
Never did , (holy holy)

Reveal to us
A thing

Vagabond – Race of Mud

(This is a collab between myself and Robert Frost)

PIPIT sat upright in her chair

Some distance from where I was sitting;

Views of the Oxford Colleges

Lay on the table, with the knitting.

It’s Sunday midday
I seem preoccupied in Eliot’s Universe
Fill your glass before the music. carries you away

Vagabond it reminds me
Vagabonds it reminds me so

“I ONLY WANT TO LIVE IN PEACE AND PLANT POTATOES AND DREAM AND SEIZE»
“I don’t really believe”

I shall not want Society in Heaven,

Lucretia Borgia shall be my Bride;
Her anecdotes will be more amusing

Than Pipit’s experience could provide.

Vagabond it reminds me
Vagabonds it reminds me so
Vagabond it reminds me

.