The Port Lincoln with a headed green
reminds of all the vanished love songs
tires of doom and cages of hope
some days the rawness cascaded
burning my sole with remnant matters
in a lovely world where we aspired
with fixed attires that truly perspired

At the heart of this desert bloom
where nothingness claims attention
at the hand of the sunken gloomy sun
which prevails the dry land it scorches
unveiling all the buried emotional cases
of utter regret and unknown possibilities

At the heart of the desert bloom
where the rain fades inside the sandy dunes
casting the breeze to the barren land
with unconcern perils and derailment
unveiling all the buried emotional cases
of utter regret and unknown possibilities

At the heart of a desert bloom
on the silvery aligned amber bridge
overlooking the stratified red rocks
where guanos and snakes rest and arrest
appeasing and hissing the untold secrets

At the heart of the desert bloom
on a mounted grill of unmovable waters
lying meters deep, overlaid by the patch
patterned with blackness and debris
as a heavenly breeze whispers of beginnings

At the heart of the desert bloom
where the past was long laid and cast
painted at the end of a two year past
of prolific and demonic disengagement
on passageways where all there is moves on

There is a rock with a red gush
At the fountain of the desert heart
It calls me by name, ohh the tainted one
Ohh dry those tears lovely one
and it burns like hot ash in a fantasy land
and all it's grace a volcanic mass
to start again on the rooted ground
Ohh dry those tears lovely one

There is a child within a lonely heart
At the certain clock of the desert hurt
It calls me by name, ohh the tainted one
Ohh dry those tears lovely one
and it burns like hot ash in a fantasy land
and all it's grace a volcanic mass
to start again on the rooted ground
Ohh dry those tears lovely one

I am older and wiser
drawn all the found lines
end on end, time after time
flooring all the disguises
that were lost and found

I am older and wiser
carved from gullible limestones
the gems that are bigger than life
end on end, time after time
flooring all the disguises
that were found and lost

The times that I found a way
pointed stars and caved moons
The time that I hit the ground
end on end, time after time
scratching the glazed surfaces
that were found and lost

The times that I lost all paths
daunted darks and dreaded starts
The time I soared to the skies
end on end, time after time
dreaming of that past life
that was found and lost

The templars took the cross
and made it a religion rose
a psychological overseen dome
of acquiesce and admiration

What if there weren't any slaves?
only mercenaries who craved
for power and a subservience rave
across the vast seas and distances

We trace the Omlec race in Americans
way before Colombus leaped his strides
as they left scented archeological remnants
of basalt and granite sculptured rights

The templars took the cross
and created glorified corded bonds
aesthetically covered with an overseer
of utter deceit and embellished conmanship

Never did I belong in this patch
the hatch of lies and misconception
where ice covers all there ever was
where maps are painted, never was
the touch of grenades and bombs
as tombs and gravestones stomps

Never did I belong in this patch
the coded identity, the spirit implosion
where ice covers all there ever was
where the hyperbola sits ever alive
on the mouth of the North Pole
as distance lands remains unreachable

Never did I belong on this patch
the production zone of slave machines
where we labour and bore workers
where institutions are unfunctional
feeding loneliness to the masses slowly
as the truth remains covered inside ice sheets

I breathe once again, under the blanket
when I write half words, half terms
on the bed I make love to myself
touching every curve as I flow
under the melody, the apple of me

I breathe giving my best,keeping traces
when I write half words, half terms
affixed to the posts as white flags
of surrender and meandering forevers
under the melody, the apple of me

I breath rising up again, feeding vultures
when I write half words, half terms
in deeper papers thrown in ocean floors
where sharks sails and penguins tilts
under the melody, the apple of me

I breath at last on the rights of the heavens
when I write half words, half terms
hiding the phrases that races,the poetic pace
feeling the wonders of rightenouness
under the melody, the apple of me

I love her
Not in a ****** way, but
She's my friend, my friend
She helps me so much
For 7 years Ive known her
Laughed and cried with her
She hugs me and my daughter
Makes sure my house is in order
She has capabilities that I do not
I fear for her
She isn't supposed to be here
With her brown skin and Spanish tongue
She works hard
And I love her
And I'm so afraid for her
I don't understand fences
Or "papers of belonging", citizenship
I was born privileged
Free and white
In America
Because my ancestor came here 340 years ago
And begat generation after generation of my blood
I wonder if he had to have papers?
Her journey here nearly killed her
Sent by her mother, with a bottle of water and an aluminum foil wrapped sheep sandwich
Across the dessert
For just the idea of a better life
She was 16 Then
I love her
And by the GOD that loves every colour and nation,
I'll marry her before I let her be dragged into one of those big vans they put "illegals" in