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waiting in a hole
dark, yet earthy warm
uncomfortably
resting in spate

yet the kids will play
unaware of what's to come
the dragon breaths fire
skin-crackling fun

the beast will swallow whole
our so-called promised god-given freedom
to categorize us into mortar boxes
and moving steel chasis

the norm is this
the norm is that
from our earliest days
brainwashed children of men

there is a way
there is a path
it's hard work
but better than what we have

shackled men in a prison state
slowly tiring the spirit
no glory for the guts
think tanks controlling our wants

sweet sweet smell
freshly cut grass
the sweat on your loved ones neck
their still wet hair
brings you from despair
the world continues it's poisoned attack
but will never hold me back

ma toit (my first attempt at a poem en Français)

quand, je reste sur ma toit
et le reste, c'est n'importé quoi
j'oublie ma vie et juste rêver
de toutes choses de spiritualité
je reflet, qui je suis
un mec normale, non!
je suis un mec dans désirer et délire
qui aime tout le monde comme moi
mais si tu n'est pas comme ça
tu besoin changer avant tu me comprendre
parce-que, vous avez fermé votre monde
mes yeux est ouvert et clâire
peut-etre un peu contemporaire
et sans ta voile
j'aimé bien mon toit........

twinkle twinkle little man

liberataire, nice with a beard
suggests a sangria for the start, before the beer
taking the glasses, we guzzle them down, and I spill some on my leg
laughing and joking and playing with air, we speak about everything so clear
dark thoughts don't arrive for long, gone into the midst of my sparkler-like head
taking control, and rolling a joe, we go out for a smoke.
I tell funny stories in French, that suprisingly work, she laughs loud and heartedly,
somewhere in the distance, a dog barks, probably just caught the cat.
with a drop of the hat, we return to our table where our awaiting drinks have sat
lonely together on the table of eternity, awaiting the deities to drink their goodness.
lifting the glass to my mouth, I miss, and pour beer over my t-shirt, the old one with the burn holes and the worn down celtic design
no matter, clothes are for the folk who give a damn, give a damn about the people with their minds so closed
religiously up-brought, but never broke free, these chains of the majority, don't hold me.
We get back to my place, and wake up the neighbours, with music so loud, it's literally blaring. Perhaps feeling sorry for themselves as to why they're in bed, after all, it's only4:30am. decide on a film "henry, portrait of a serial killer", and I think to myself, let the fun begin.
finally sleep arives, I take my 1 hour siesta with a smile and go to work, arriving, smiling, follying inside my head, so full yet clear, for what comes next, is getting very near.
I tab a cig from my boss, and drink a strong coffee. cheshire cat smile, never waning.
after a few hours of ectasy I write in blog, and that's it, from this dog.