30 Dec 2011

Forever More


Stretch me out beneath the starry ocean sky of night time musings and dissolvings in the paintbrush strokes of our vision’s yearnings,
Beneath the infinite expanse of our discarded learnings,
Where I can gaze into the saltshaker of reality’s moviemaker lawn,
And graze on shooting stars that cry into the dawn their crazes of forgotten lusts, and leave effigies of dust behind,
In this great yawning chasm of emptiness we call the skull castle of our mind, Where broken eyelids drape their countries of illusions on the wallpaper of our train-ride,

That remind us all of eventual endings that began before the beginning,
When angel fish were swimming through the gleaming nectar of our conscience
That poured its quicksilver through corridors of selfless rivers,
Before me, or you, or notions of forever, had put their clown clothes on,
And paraded through the desert of a useless purpose.
The oasis of our faceless freedom is here, as it was then, and is always now; Mirage of ageless nothingness imagined as our consciousness.

Always awaking and disintegrating, as a wheel that keeps spinning, like lizard eyelids dissolving in the faded patchwork of the quilt king, seeing inwards to an illusion of all matter, like a love explosion scattered drops of rainbow water through the aqueducts of our fathers,
Through temples of forgotten winged mothers,
Through ornamented pyramids of sphinx like angel mines,
The hieroglyphic prolific creation shrine.
Through any image of the great design.
 
That promises to take you there, where the space between our atoms touches, Where love flies far, upon an armchair in the stars,
And reality unclutches, and unhinges into a dreamscape space of essential energetic particles vibrating in a grand ensemble of interconnected insignificance, the hallelujah of our Krishna’s farting tricks,
Until it blows into the basement of a whitewashed room, into the womb of where our nothingness has been left to assume…nothing but itself.

Now strip me bare, for as long as I dare, to die into the patterned palm work of the sky, like veins of prehistoric tree roots that fly into the fullness of their own voluptuous fruits of sweetness; to blossom in the heart of nothingness; and lap forever more, on empty shores of our eyelids.

And death will die with our I,
And love flies on into the dawn,
Even though we say goodbye.  

The Dreamers


We have gathered here together
As the dreamers of forever
As the cruisers of our weather
With a vision to remember.

In a cavern with the moonlight dim,
Awakened eyelids gaze within,
From star ship masts and oaken tables;
To sense how long the passion lasts;
And which of us is able, to rage the voodoo to its limit,
And wreck the room, until we’re in it.

See the chandelier of frosted golden cones,
And the embroidered frozen tones
Of elementary empty souls, that sail into the great unknown,
With the backing of the scribes, residing on the wall,
Where everyone can have their say, and together we say all,
With opened voice and hollow eyes,
We’ll slip into the stars, and shed our old disguise.

A whole new way is paved in paintings on the wood,
In diagrams and epigrams of where our vision could,
Be flooding through inspired blood,
By candle-lights, and ritual rites of our cosmic night display,
Where kaleidoscopic images, like Indian mirages, bring our light into the day.

We are dreamers, and would like to enchant your ear,
Until you sink into our sphere, and let the sunken space
Retrace your face into the realm of really being here.
We are dreamers, and would like to steal your eyes away,
Until you melt into the molten clay of our creative display.





The Pied Piper



Hear the calling of the man, who always knew to make his stand,
Who always knew the notes that flew, from never never never land.
Who could never compromise, a gaze so wide,
For instructions and the lies, in which our world resides.

Hear the chorus of his dream, that knew life wasn’t what it seems,
Who always knew to find, the diamond of his mind,
And with a vision to redeem, the chains to which we’re tied.

Hear the calling of the piper, who pied and spied into the viper
Of our poisonous and ugly nature, and make us that much riper.
Who heard with visionary stature, of a place beyond our capture,
Who sought with music to enrapture, in a river so much brighter.

Hear the chanting of the man, who always led the caravan,
Who always led the way, for our dreams to taste the day;
Hear the singing of the sun, that always knew it was the one
To bring its brightness to the trees, And bring its stardom to the leaves,
To melodise the seven seas;
And swim into our great release,
With lips that call the stars to dance 
The muse of music, in its endless romance,
Whisps the sailor into endless space,
Until we are drenched in beauty, and he forgets his face.



Jazz - Man


Sages gather in the bar of no tomorrow,
To meet the sacred sound beyond our sorrow,
Of voodoo jazz and magic musk
That breathe bright light into the dusk
With molten pearls of music notes;
The sorcery of galaxies, where empty faces float,
And the man of jazz lets all he has,
Radiate into the liquid air,
In melodic currents, and shamanic stare,   
To spread a sacred aura through the room;
In sounds that sow their own cocoon;
Enchanting sailors from such distant lands,
That they may leave themselves behind, and understand,
Just what they had arrived here for;
And that identities are left right at the door.

Dimly lit booths, with fragrances of ruby red,
As sailors sift into the cabins, where they’re led
Into royal armchairs of savannah plush;
Here our hearts are hypnotised into a rush
As the jazz man king takes to the ring,
And sees what vibrancy, our life may bring
Upon this ship of never land,
Conjured In an image of the master band
That rides the river of its timeless notes;
And pours into the doors of where our conscience wrote
That the jazzman king does always sing,
And we have never really been elsewhere,
The illusions of our dreamscape care,
Are swept into the sounds that everywhere
Resound and confound the boundaries
We wound, spinning round our little selves;
But now they hear another sound
And only he knows where they’re bound,
Because he’ll never ever ever let it go,
He’ll mesmerise the mic,
And let the river flow.





20 Oct 2011

We All Fall Through


A lotus flower of light, shedding petals at its seasons’ end,
As jasmine leaves that shine so bright,
And blaze with purgatorial intent;
Dissolving on the silent lake
That shimmers in the moonlight wake,
The blossoming of phoenix wings that writhe and shake,
To instigate the end of all beginning;
As golden petals swimming, so awake
In circular siroccos of light;
As a creature reaching out into the night,
Crying for the moon to realize
That none too soon, its artful dying will ignite.
A spirit tail to crystalize how the phoenix feels its flight,
In diamond dust to see its eyes, and dissolve into the light;
And reappraise the cages that were raised
And how such wings were kept to behave.

We all fall through into the silent summer,
Where the pregnant buzz of fireflies,
Swarm into a secret jungle stammer,
And a ritual disguise, is melting off our ancient face;
The inferno eyelids spill into the space
And fill this empty matter, as nectar pouring
Down into a beaker, filling every form and
Therefore joining it together;
As a fire in every rain drop of the weather.

We all fall through into the greater picture,
Where unimaginable images flourish right before us,
And the mixture is adjusted thus,
That we can see the concoction of the potion,
Evolving an equation of revolving transformation,
We all fall through into the great dimension
Where the mention of a sentence is never-ending
Invention; And the end is the beginning,
And the beginning never ended,
And all will be well, when this has once been mended;
And we are here again.

12 Oct 2011

These Pearls of Glass


An abacus of crystal beads
Telling tales of where our story leads,
That every hour swings away,
To the magic of our modern day.

These pearls of glass upon a rack,
Orbiting the cosmic track,
As diamond tears of sunken worlds
And vivid dreams, seen in radiant pearls;
Where each to each a golden mirror holds,
And promises the earth, to the truth of Old.

From the astral planes we sought
Such galaxies of thought
To swim onto our solar shore,
These pearls of glass, to speak of evermore;
In the axis of our values
From the systems we subdue                                       
Where with control, we seek to  find a clue.

Beyond these cisterns of our minds
Such prisms spill out and unwind,
In rivers, to the ears of mankind:
From Aztec mountains to the river Inca,
From the moonlight to the smile of Buddha,
From mechanics to the mystic man,
From 2001, to where we began,
Each does breathe a crystal sphere,
Reflecting image of us Being Here.
And like children throwing marble worlds
That fall  open as such diamond pearls,
They leak their liquid to the centre,
Where they melt into the structure, of the abacus presenter.

These pearls of glass do chime together,
Beyond the beads of rainy weather,
And ignite in an eternal song
In panting raptures, from where we belong
As they glisten and listen and endlessly remind
Us of an eternal interplay we left behind;
As galaxies collide,
A chaos we can’t hide,
My eyes are seeing blind,
Our life played in rewind,
A fantasy we tried,
A space that’s open wide,
There’s nothing…left…to hide

4 Oct 2011

Where the River Runs

Who searched through all asylums for their ancient sanity
To blossom into mirrors of divinity,

Who ran their paintbrushes through sands of time
To spill their colour on our ancient crime,

Who sprawled and crawled across the crackened tiles
To flood into the diamond water of the Nile,

 Who dissolved into their thick sienna sleep,
Into threaded dreams, and those ceruleans secrets that we keep,

Who danced exultant through the sultan's magic chords,
And fell into enchanted orchards of the lord,

 Who gazed into the bottom of the spyglass puzzle
And saw beyond the games of master's whip and timebound muzzle,

Who saw their names engraved on Amazonian oak
In a timeless tale embroidered in those words we spoke,

Who heard a droplet in the lake of silence,
Through aching ears of aging violence;

 Who spun their webs beyond the orbit of control,
And exploded in the eyelid of a blackened hole,

Into hollow caves of lightning burst
That echo with an ancient thirst,
Inhaling all the hail of breath and birth
Reflected on the hillsides of the earth,

Who raged with the creative whim
To see the endless forms this wheel can spin;
And witness as this great design unfolds within,
Where the embers of an era, are about to begin.

8 Aug 2011

The Calling of the Quicksand


Calling all the fallen soldiers,
To the land where they were smoldered
In the furnace of their love;
Seen from ancient eyes, so high above.

The time is now to run, into the setting of the sun;
For statued men so made of dust,
To surrender to their final lust;
And bursting forth into this pit,
Into mountains lands of midnight sands,
Release their force that this is it;
And the time is now to make their stand.

Away into the amber tint and hourglass,
Of Egyptian eyelids swimming past,
Before such hands did meet their head,
And they conceived of being dead;
Dissolved into the darkest sea,
Where all evaporates, into a sunless me.

As the quicksand beckons them to leave their ways behind,
And lights infernos in their mind,
And as the phoenix rides its solar beam,
Exultance bursts into their stream;
Just to chase such dreams into the sun,
Where the fire of their life is won;
And since the past is only aging,
It is now that times are changing.

24 Jul 2011

Wake on Up


Won’t we come out to play, dear prudence?
Basking in the sunlight folds,
Robed in forever’s skin?
Layed and hatched into another mould, where we begin;
Of what was told and kept within;
Written in the gaps of space between the walls,
Withdrawn into the iris of Anubis,
Fallen from the eyelid of a new bliss;

As a diamond tear beckons to hear
Of frothing fountains like acidic inspiration,
And lava gysers spilling information;
To wake on up and leave our slumber,
And let our tongues be bathed in thunder.

As we’re begging just to be, so open and so free,
Who were sleeping just to see, their dreamscape boundary
Who had nothing to be waiting for
And keep their ships chained to the shore

As it all leads back to how we feel,
Releasing that which makes us real;
To release ourselves and get our fill,
Let childhood fountains overspill,

In midnight howls of rooftop dogs
And endless flows of driftwood logs;
As symbols slanting on a page
Leading back beyond our age
To the yawning mouth of our cave;
As hierogplyphs, loaded with bliss,
And the meanings that we gave;
For us to give All, as All is given,
And re-invent what was always written.

Until we return to the womb of our room,
Enveloped by this boundless me,
Eloped into the sea;
Truly gone fishing,
Fell into the well of shooting stars and wishing;
Of where we always are, before our minds go missing.

Here, in the centre,
The central crystal radiance;
We are home;
This is the centre of the Puzzle.

Sarabella's Slumber


Hush, Hush, Hear the midnight rush,
Here where candles flicker and flush;
Crackling, and reddening, into a blush,
Where they gather and collect our ears
To fill the silence of this lantern dome;
Drifting on a dreamscape throne
Through cavalries of stars,
To where the moon has flown.

This is Sarabella’s sacred sleep,
In drifting flocks of cloudlike-sheep;
Or Sheep-like clouds, like midnight shrouds,
That pour onto the sunken ground
The magic that our dreams have reaped.

As the moon does weep, to take her higher,
To timeless lands of full desire,
Where her eyes dare feel the fire
To fill this dome with breaths of air,
And ripple through her silken hair;
To plant an answer in her ear,
That all which she has dreamt, is here.

Upwards, upwards, and away,
From the centre where she lay,
To fly on winged lantern feathers
Washed in visionary weather,
To sail forever on the seabed of her dreams.
To the pearl of what she sees;

Until the dreamlike bubble bursts,
And slumbers rumble into the day,
Where the light is washed away;
Where Sallabella rises, and reality demises;
Fading to a shade of grey.





The Time Gardens


It was once upon a silent spring,
On a starless night, with no beginning,
Where all but every light did lie
Asleep upon the moonlit sky,
And the hedges and the ferns
Were enclosed to learn,
Of what they had kept
In the Gardens of Time,
And of what limits they chose
To encircle this shrine,
Before the bells had arose
And decided to chime.

Before every second and minute
Did crash and resound,
As temporal grains that fall to the ground,
Who sleeping and creeping
Their way through the game,
Slide into the dusk, where all is the same.

These glasses of dust are kept in the trust
Of the old phantom reaper,
In the skeleton grin, of Time’s secret keeper;
Who surveyed and sedated
The forces he fated to wander this lawn,
As they search through the gardens, for where they belong,

Where marble slabs are formed in steps,
To where the queen and king must get,
As they wander the meadows, just to forget,
Of how they had entered the slumbers of Time,
And dreamt on the stages, of a great pantomime.
Where over yonder, the house on the hill,
Does witness the night, so silently still,
Where outside the gardens
The golden gnomes see,
The roots of their homes
In the nest of every tree.



15 Jun 2011

Children of the Sun


Unfold, Unfold,
The Words of Old,
Of what we never learnt,
And what was always told.
For in the land beyond words
Where all has been heard,
We are filled with the stillness of another world;
As a tapestry uncurls of all that is known;
Until there is Nothing that cannot be shown.
Until we are empty; falling onto cobbled stone,
Into mosaics of our ancient home;
Where we are lizards, shedding their skin,
Who’ve grown into the memory, of who they’ve always been.

Dissolved in genie gin, and absinthe smoke,
Where every scripted line was spoke,
And empty people brought together
In the spaceless realm of timeless weather;
Where chequered tiles black and white
Edge hollow vessels through the night
Into the golden sunrise stain,
Of crimson blue and turquoise rain,
Of a colour with no name, shining through the window pane
Upon these ghosts that slid away,
And laughing lips that say, of how it’s always been this way.

Of how there’s no such thing as trying,
When empty eyes keep crying
That all which has gone on before
Was a projection of this final door;
Of dusty sands and sunset shores,
And ancient tracks back to the core.
Where the sunset obelisk fans out its light in open bliss,
And boundless space expands across the scene,
Until the fibres of the earth are freed,
And branches of the ancient tree extend their bony fingers,
To the sea where ripples linger,
And a thousand eyes encirculate the figures of forever’s eight.

Where two spirits were expelled by vapour,
From their empty shells of paper
To arise among the logs and lakes,
In the sunrise of another movie take;
In the garden where they sit and knit their minds together,
And instigate but to remember how they had imagined the entire world,
Before they were dismembered;
Only to return and learn of how they once were One,
And now are reunited, as the Children of the Sun.

6 Apr 2011

The Forever Cycle


A gypsy band of travelling monks, honking through the alleys; Grazing with their lazy eyes upon the fading light and swarming moths; the primal pain of desperate words fading on the travel track…fading at the pace at which we speak.

Another sneak into the preview of a private movie: where sheltered shellfish glaze with lazer vision into eyelids of identity;
But identities are swimming…fading.

The forever cycle trickles from the ceiling into fresh water once more; into entirely new crystal constellations; into the cushioned corner of balloon baboons and French saloons, where severs of the sliver of the moon were once a scar, and not a crescent; bleeding light in wedges so bright that shimmer at the bottom of this pint…

Before they fade into the groove and cove of our treasure, where hooting haunted owls measure the vastness of our madness; where ancient cloaks of sadness slide and flood in fountains of silk; fading back into the sink. Where the perfect place for every piece of chess is frozen on the cosmic board; chosen only for this moment.

Where sunken seabed eyelids reach and grasp the surface of the golden furnace of this game; how it will always be the same; again and again and again. And lotus leaves do part the trees to look beyond our gain, and the eyes of beauty see in every drop of rain the atoms of the earth reform and frame into Egyptian women carrying pitchers that contain the water of the world; under palaces of Esher ceilings to demand a name, on a chequered circle to explain for the king to check if he’s insane; because we’re at square one again and again and again…fade-out.

Our fading gaze; the pearl of our pupil; our opened eye that dared to die into its own death kingdom; where lily ponds on midnight lawns are stretched across the running water of our ancient mother Time;
As a castle given to the sky;
As a dream that dared to fly;
As a sleeping boy;
An empty mansion;
A circular flow;
A drainpipe glow;
A particular angle;
A fallen angel;
A breathing nostril;
A heaving fossil;
Of the forever untold;
How our souls were sold;
Of a voice to fill the silence;
And a void to hug this violence;
Of the severed and forlorn;
And the forever unborn;
As returning in their turn style;
And once again…fade into forever’s smile.
Fade out.

Inside the Outside


Crawling back into the dawn; with atoms disintegrating into the sun. As particles of fairy dust flung into the golden orange dying colours, melting endlessly into the lake; our outer shell, the monopoly mistake, breaking away and crumbling to clay, our heart of darkness in the light of day.

Under the cherry blossom trees, where seas of sand and leaves do rush and flow and whisper to the trees of an eternal poem in the eye of every bud. As lightning strikes the crimson kite, and ancient whispers underground have heard the sounds of whooshing waves that gave the parchments of our grave to the diamond of this moment.

Where we retraced the ancient symbols, and placed the pen upon these sliding slivers of sand; sifting through the ever forgotten, to the never-ending remembrance of the forever unwritten.

Where we sought the unspeakable sermon voiced in silence, migrating its masters to the domes and planes beyond their names; and a crash of silent thunder echoed in the vault.

Where a message from beyond the bond of our names, of the sea from which we came, was swallowed in the scented secrets of a sunset daze.

Where a voice to shape this thunder crashing on the shore, emanated from our core an eternal endless ever-repeating story; and the skin of our gory foot had really shed its boot.

Where in the eyeless centre of this broken foot the fossils of a timeless space are safe inside the sun; safe beside the bracken and the diplodocus leaves.

Where the king and sting of nettles is the centre of this circle; the ancient eye; the greater ocean.

Where eight great soldiers had been waiting for disintegrating, and reinventing the tension of their tender tendons.

And So:
With the extinction of the sun,
Another web is spun.
And with the birth of a new moon,
They’ve really bent the spoon.

To be at rest forever,
As a golden eye upon a lake;
At rest in the forever sunset



14 Mar 2011

Let us dream awhile


Let us dream awhile, you silent and insanely sacred citizens of dust,
Let us dream awhile, over ancient planes, and starry skies, and Arabian nights of lust.
Let us dream awhile: you desert wolves that roam these citadels of madness; who know too well the funeral bell and ancient songs of sadness.
Let us dream awhile in wisps of smoke, encased in caterpillared dens;
Into the diamond of our wilderness, in the shape of now and when.
Let us dream awhile into the mazy mirror, where shattered glass descends, in a chattering mass and illusional smash, of all your make-believe friends.
Let us dream awhile into the womb and tomb of your cocoon, where people plastered to the wall, do wank and wail without a face, deep inside it All.

Let us dream into the place where you were always high, and every pore of every atom oozed with the jizm of sunshine.
Let us dream in folding fountains of light, flowing from your living room; in cascades of cubism carried through the night, to where the sun does meet the moon.
Let us dream into the great out-doors, where the whispers of the blackbirds over hill, are well aware of vacant stares, by men whose minds are kept behind a till.
Let us dream away now child, and take flight across the ocean-land; into threaded webs of your very own head, where the final bastion stands.
Let us dream far, far away, beyond your dad of good and bad,
What is this we’ve always had?
And how came we to be so so so sad?
Let us dream away your watery withered face, and watch it swim inside a bucket; dare to breathe & heave & say fuck it – I was born & died & wept & slept a million lives before – is the key-hole to another door?

Let us dream away now love, give your blowjobs to the Milky Way, in this great aquarium of stars, exploding in the light of day.
Let us dream in peace now love, the Gods are laughing at us all – see the secret silent incident; of our instincts seated in this hall.
Let us dream onto the ebbing shore of one more children’s bedroom, where all these dreams were dreamt before under the dying stars of an eternal vacuum.
Let us dream so deep into the great outside, until it seeps into the canvas of our minds.
Let us dream so wild you star born child, until the solar systems in your head on dreams of light have fed, and with nothing left to hide, make love to All outside; until you laugh yourself to bed.

9 Jan 2011

It Is Here

As the roaring chaos of a howling gale,
In streaks of light, slides through our veil,
To pierce the prism of our eye,
Inviting potent thoughts to fly
Upon the echo of our ecstasy,
To strike forbidden honesty
To surge and scream through vacant alleys,
As dawns awakes our sleeping valleys.

As cosmic yawns do rock the ocean bed
To stir the blood which we have bled,
From chartered streams of our veins
To the mental mazes of our chains,
Where Ancestors had searched and sought,
To find how they were sold and bought,
And All which we have ever known,
Is but a paper model of an empty throne.

As another die is cast,
Against the levee of the past,
And timeless tides of fortune
Carry crescents from the moon,
To rock the ancient board of chance,
And invent another dance;
To frolic from the formless tree,
Another leaf, which falls to be,
Another ancient trance.

As the fury of the dancing flame,
In licks of light, does spin another game
Upon the waste land of the past,
Where nothing that is made, was ever made to last.
And in the clarity of crystal dew
This inferno rages right on through,
Into the splendour of the sunburst morn,
Where the children of the lake, do swim in every form.

As the emptiness of naked space,
Swallowed in Forever’s face,
Does sift the sands of time,
Of islands in the sunshine,
Where eyes embedded in the earth,
That watch with every death and every birth,
Do dream another sacred order,
Of our home beyond the chaos border.

As another bulb ignites,
And joins a chain of city lights;
Glowing, like fire-flies on frigid earth.
And in the ember of this birth,
We see the ruined rooks of broken ages,
Crash and burn from empty stages,
As only embryonic dreams,
Amount to all which we have been.

As surging arms embrace the air,
As a million piercing cries do dare,
To surrender to the iridescent flow
Where waking light does glow,
And the levee bursts asunder;
Where in revolutionary thunder,
We are carried out to sea,
In the electricity, of All there is to be.