(in reference to ÇAÇÔ, Man of the Morning Star)

The strength of ideology as known
rests with the knowledge men shall seek a god.
A doctrine merely amplifies the tone
and makes a cult of anything so odd
as that which queerly contradicts one’s own,
for all else is to one’s belief a fraud.

Going down the river
The flow swaying with my rhythm
Forever young was the river
Sometimes I fought the current
Other times I let it take me
Diving into insanity
Gasping for reality
I feel myself going under
Inhaling water
Pray for me Jude
I don't want to drown just yet
The river has baptized me in fear
Stealing my breath
Then giving it back
Scrambling for air
Holding the edge
I am not lost yet
God hold my hand
Don't let me go under
Waters once so warm

there is absolutely no purpose to life
BUT
we have to make our lives purposeful
in order to fill up the vast void
between birth and death

some die very young and priests say
god loved then so took them away

some suffer all lifelong and wish to die
the priesty guy now says
god is punishing them that's why
they don't die

some have skipped the death queue
and crossed to over 100
then priests say god wanted them to stay
so that for the sake of ailing humanity
they longer do pray

He twirls and whips through the trees,
A gentle breeze or a cough and a sneeze.
My hair is teased as he calls my name,
“I am the wind and I’m glad you came.”

I cannot see him, but I start to speak,
“Oh wind, carry me to mountain’s peak.”
“No, dear child, your skin is too thin,
You’ll be dead by tomorrow, I promise I’ll win.”

All that wishing,
Never doing.

All that frustration,
Keeps on brewing.

And the tea of laziness
Is never sipped.

~Is Inaction Too An Action?~

This home is not a home
It's nothing more than a box
Where the left behind go
Painful memories bounce from wall to wall
Echoing in their mind,
Wounding the soul

One by one the pictures fall down
Unconditional trust destroyed by betrayal
Shattered like broken glass across a laminated floor

Things will never be the same
You can't take back hate
Too much time
Without an apology

Another heart dies
As a life's destroyed
A casualty of what should have been
But never could be

Oh you are a one
first the root
healing golden
light like lycra

encasing and squeezing
the shite out of you
C'mon hurry heal
from the inside

Namaste nasty
don't you agree?
Breathe in
Breathe out
Shake your toosh
all about

Snake oil
spiritual samplers
Get your 'Enlightenment'
remotely
Really? Really?

Riding nightmares to the war
he screams out his battle-cry
No-man’s land is lonely
he sees the bodies sent to die

A blackened field; trees burning
the horizon flaring red
He knows the streaks of fire
have come to claim his head

No sleep for him, or rest
for his weary soul
He cannot claim a victory
he never reached his goal

Supposed to bring his buddies home
He promised all of them
We’ll get through this boys
though how’s beyond my ken

where is God?
then you will feel no necessity
of expressing such a desire
as within each one
burns a fire
of remorse
some time or the other
of anguish
as we live never together
in a modern world
flowing passed a violent current
of permanence
which we call
Impermanence
all things must change
as only impermanence remains

pair of twin
sleek ribbed runners
beneath the ribbons of star

streamer dreamer
let these pale eyes
wild fill roam

flight towards
a dusk
fleeing from a dawn

strike fast the hours edge
layed surrounding
tender flesh

love letters of
words
cast in the hue
of bruise

the cry tithes