Over

Come

idiots and dancers

gunmen, rocket men, lads and mormons

people of the world 

who are choosing not to relax

listen to some Ludovico Einaudi.

catnap

before anything else, align center

Much better...

In thin boxes of dew

is where cat's dreams are stored.

There are so ver many of them

that the gods in dreamland have built a grand city out of them.

The boxes get their colors from the temperature of the sleeping feline

and the content of the dreams it holds.

They can store multiple dreams, up to 13 at a time

depending on length and content.

The heavier boxes filled with dreams of cat gangs on the prowl looking for prey

make up most of city hall and the police stations.

The green boxes, filled with dreams of sweet candy grass

line most of the streets and make up the parks.

The white boxes of a cat's dreamless dream

remain untouched 

for they are holy potential in the regions near the heart of the matter.

The yellow boxes are made from dreams about tuna and milk

the gods placed them as windows, ceilings and floors.

And the pink boxes, laden with dreamy love for their owners

those special boxes 

are where the gods live, where they eat, where they sing.

They are the largest, and most beautiful

they are indeed the special thin boxes made of dew

because they hold the universe

and you.

so.

Why should we care?

well, we dont have to

but isn't it nice to think about?

to the little bump...

...that came in the night
and sat in the lap of moving words

...that made sure never to stop hearing the truth
of never giving up

...that dances a special sun dance
inside the heart of the matter

...that recognized herself in a myriad storms
and went about rowing her boat

...that shook the dust

to the little bump that rose.

Only light.

The cities cry alone
the wanderer has lost his home

The thawed will wash ashore
veiled and wrapped in thin rice paper
adorned with confetti and bengal tigers

Tales from deep within the sea
told by moon light and moonshine

The talks will peel the skies
the reels will flash and burn burn burn
until there is only light

Until there is only light.

back on track

While we await for our mind to return

the heart asks why it is that we lie to ourselves

inspite of knowing

that the truth will indeed set us free

There is a three-fold path

that will awake in me

the righteous light that uplifts

mind, heart, will

once again i have India to thank for illumination

Greater even, i have Earth to thank

no, no, i have Sun to thank

mmmm, i have Galactic Center to thank

wait. I have God to thank

I have me to thank.

thank you-rsef

.

Not premeditated.

like a snowflake swimming down the mountain´s air currents

that don´t really belong to the mountain or to this world

and this chant i give to you

full of bumps and rugged corners

so that it may polish in your heart what it could not with my hand

this chant and my heart 

open and full

dark in the night 

where the fingering rodabell grows

behind tall grass high up on the hill

only at night does my rodabell flow

only at night can you drink the tea made from its mysterious grey flower

only at night 

for then you can see

the veins in the petals and the truths of the immortal 

the soul and the mouth

this chant and its technology

belong to the bearer

who is brave enough 

to look at her own reflection in the dark

and then slap the surface of the water 

to create distortion and change

only the elders 

of our future can show us the way

their home is near 

they always stay inside

waiting for a visit

of our imagination 

and our will

claim this holy booty

and spill your own blood

to appease the monsters

that create their own

hug this time

squeeze it

its unique

and it will not come back

enter the sun

and with it the new days 

that for a moment will seem still

but the growing hum will give them away

and the nostalgia will hit

followed with structure

and then this ancient chant

overlaid with it´s new flavor

of lightness and high tones

it will make you move

physically and emotionally

with the strength of a thousand violins

and without any violence

spores and fires

will feed our mouths

our souls

the drop will dance with the spark

they will make children 

resembling hope

but they will be more dependable

and present

awa neh

yes

awaneh

dont know what it means but it rolls of the tongue real nice

try it

awa neh

awaneh

awaneh

glorious is this day

may it serve you 

and gladden you

and remind you

that love has many faces

and only one asshole

In Brazil

In this land
lives
the sweet
air

In this land
grows
the green underbelly
of the giant turtle
that carried the world
to this most auspicious time
of inner change

In this land
people
know the difference between
being complete
and being separate
between
music and myth

In this land
the beans are
loaded with garlic
the sandwich
doesn't waste time
with
leafy baggage
or
too many clothes

In this land
meditation flows 
in the shape of infinity
always catching up to itself
...
but i wouldn't know anything about that
...

breathe...

Breathing this light

I now remember

Constellations and churned turnips

Bathing my soul

Resplendent fervor

Inundating the cove

I call heart

Breathing this sound

I now can feel

Dancing Jupiters and

Crying rainbows

Beckoning my spirit 

Back into freedom

Far from illusion

Breathing this taste

Of the afterlife 

Here and now

Where it truly resides

I can now see

The missing color to the secret lives

We all live

But want to forget

Every time 

Slumber falls upon us

Breathing this touch

The thousand arms of the serpent goddess

Welcome my being

Her embrace and hearth

Now fuel 

The wheel of my being

Spinning me

Into the growing existence

Breathing this air

Reassures me that I AM

Alive

Well

Divine

Let your mantra be YUM, not Yuck.

forgotten decree

In the receptacle of the king
a fair march preceded
the ultimate decree:


man & woman must love above all,
love everything equally
and continuously

this was a royal order
 of the highest importance


supposed to be carried out immediately


so,
what happened people?

How Wonderful

The sun has a saddle on its back
where we all sit
and chant prayers
that we then weave into its rays of light.

The moon owns a bar down the alley
every 28 days its business hours 
are enjoyed by a select few
that know how to make her blush.

Love in disarray

Today's sun

can be called abnormal

lacking luster and aroma

Buffer time

absorbs the blow

with a complication

We won't wait

control

tried and true

That's what we're after

its purpose is anonymous

only the immediate comfort is visible

and the light at the end of the tunnel

ends up burning us

and dismay grows 

when the pain of one becomes shared

by a multitude of moths

happily singed

by the ever burning flame

of a love in disarray

This Time

This time when everyone is jolly

is so very cold 

to more than my bones

This time when I see happy shadows

reflected off colorful strings of light

turns my own into the mush it wants to become

This time has always been the same

even when surrounded with those who truly care

my heart has always felt disdain for this wonderful time of the year

This time and that one too

they come happily holding hands 

all i do is sit and watch

For nothing moves me on this time

aside from a few films and the odd treat

gifts come wrapped with more than shinny paper

sentiments hidden and unspoken

wrap around these things we distribute

we fruitlessly hope to make amends 

By buying things

we try to buy love

and when it doesn't work

We are encouraged to buy some more

to be traded and handed 

in a stock market exchange

For the White Hawk

On the steaming earth of the red desert, a pair of weary feet prance a painful dance of spreading light. The luminous seeding feet belong to a being who is in the earth, yet not of it. White Hawk Angel. Has been walking for two decades or so. The body-vehicle given to him had to adapt to his incredible light, it enlarged and molded to the force of spirit emanating from his core. The result of this effort has left him with a musical wrist, movable knees, a very tall complexion and a malleable face that contorts to perform.
Laughter and song are the seeds he prefers to plant on this particular walk.
As with many other light spreaders, this particularly luminous being has encountered steep physical difficulties. Misunderstanding and addictions have plagued his sphere of being without warning. The good fight isn't good to the good fighters, and they all know this prior to the battle.
As he lifts the heads of those that listen to him, his spirit, his ultimate and eternal essence grows and expands, and this effect is highly contagious.
His path is shielded from the hidden side lines, he is always taken care of and there are forces that are making sure he stays on this plane until there is a change.
My encounter with him keeps replaying itself on the screen of my thoughts. The laughs shared and the brave condition to laugh at the difficulties and just keep on going, are the probably the two biggest gifts i received from this Angel.
May you live well and prosper in love and gratitude forever, my dear Gavin.
Can't wait to see you again.

Tenaciously yours,

Nico. "little red hawk"

when they come
we will see
when they come
more will beam
when they come
the ostrich will run against the wind
when they come
the clouds shall part
when they come
areas will not be forged
homes will not be lost
pain will not be painted
over the faces
or the hedges
when they come
and they tell you they've been here
all along
you will say
'ahh, it felt like you were'

food
for
thought.

These Blunders...

     are like fertilizers for this soul

thick air

im not too good at this life thing
i should have the hang of it by now
but i don't
i keep getting by with the bare minimum
with just enough to make it through
and then again sometimes
just enough doesn't feel quite right
just enough doesn't keep people by your side
ah
im tired of just enough
im sad that 'it's just enough'

load of crap
just enough

words

my words are stuck in a dam

high up above the hills

they grow cold

 they shiver

as the moon waxes 

they loose magic

they cry 

for a way out

and Mr. earthquake 

hears them

he unleashes

one of his renowned shakes of fluff

opening the dam like a clam

my words now 

freely, flow down 

pouring into the towns

imposing 

that dryness of language 

is no longer the norm

people's linguistic pipes 

are unclogged

words now run through the streets 

causing merry havoc

lifting skirts of impatience and anticipation

showing glimpses of what they can not describe

my words 

they cascade until the cascading's caput is cut

then they rest

the lazy river, they join

undulating liquid snake

all the way

to the brink of river-ness

to the birth of endless

to the big wide blue

oceanic words 

my words become

ever changing this fickle words

they keep me going these humless words

the 3 10's

time to make a change
today is special
so go outside
and breathe
love
into the atmosphere
make it grow
this love bubble of ours

today facebook stole 39% of my soul, and i ate two bowls of cereal . .

.
.

the rest of my time was divided between procrastination and contemplation

the plant of my day never saw the sunlight
only until the darkness fell
did my day want to begin
and even as i got ready
i felt heavy with complacency and indifference
the world's tentacles made it to my room
and i was not ready for those huge suction cups

i had to break a window
to lured the squirmy tentacles away
with the music from my accordion
they followed dancing until the ocean
was reached (just as they reached my house, the little bastards)
and they were home
the squid they belonged to was evidently distressed
the sight of his precious tentacles made him squirt a squidish smile

the road back intended to be mysterious and challenging
but my trusty accordion persuaded it
with smoky smoothness
to pretend it was summer and to forget all about the clock

with the night warm as a hug
i made it back
in literally
no time

after cleaning the glass
sleep was wonderful
except
i had this crazy dream
about the world
and it

was controlled by silly men

and their ocean was bleeding

and they didn't do a damn thing

and then i woke up.

Sunday

what is it about you day?

the problems you bring seem to be toppling over the top of my patience

yet you find ways to show me the power I have to change the stresses

did you plan all of this since we invented you, day?

did you plot against me?

when did you decide that it was cool to throw these people i didn't want to see right in front of me, when did you calculate exactly what it would take for my love to faint?

is someone paying you day?

could you really be that greedy? and what would you do with your earnings any way, you've spent yourself being mischievous and now you're almost over.

i have but one simple plea

talk to the night, yes the one right behind you

and please tell her to be soft and kind.