Me and my inner child

My inner child craves light
but I seek darkness deeper than the human body
deeper than the alien universe.
My blind child searches for the family tree
but I desire oblivion more manifest than death and nothingness.
My deformed child loves culture
but I want truth more naked than nature.
The irony is really great –
My child is like a lame lion
and I am like a dark butterfly
spluttering in the mist,
beating my feeble wings in nothingness.

Paint a picture for me -
Brush strokes in elephant blood
     of corrupted soil and
     toxic waterways,
     sunless air hanging over
     bombed-out orphanages -
But create with these elements
An image positive
In tone and direction
Framed by youthful vision -
Paint for me a picture
     of possibilities -
Convince me there is a way out...





- fr

Every once in a while I see you sitting on a branch

The beautiful nightingale in its form

Always singing exquisitely beautiful songs

Why the mind never stop seeking

To which frequency it belongs



With absolute stillness, there is able to find

The music that plays, is made to hide

Verses that cannot put into words

What the galaxies describe



With a universal language

If one listens, can unwind

The wool of what is spun

Structured and wired

In the most delicate way

From the beginning to every gentle laced hum



Now fly away again; with all of the harmony lifting notes you sung



My love, for I will follow the thread

As far as there is no more

Untill I can feel the wind move between the feathers

And the beauty of true love sounds embraces my hearts warmth