"And The World Is Human"

Children laugh in their innocent play
A young man loves his wife today
A twice worn dress is thrown away
        And the world is human.

An unknowing child is lost then found
A bleeding man attracts a crowd
The carousing deaf like their music loud
        And the world is human.

A ****** man has a love for life
A pious man berates his wife
A robust man knows pain and strife
        And the world is human.

In all the lands there's old and new
And time flows on for me and you
There are many wonders left it's true
        And the world is human.

Extraction,
Time in its parcels
Permissions passing,
     Against the atomic
     There is no saviour...
Willing And Deadly
Because there was no
Choice in the beginning.
    Born of grains
Lasting blinks that rarely
Resonated with soils eroded
And land scapes are the life
Watching droplets of flesh
Flash like embers
      Nothing is sudden
And forever is just a life
   Regretting being in the
Moments

Words are dead!
there I said it
words are dead
the words in your head
are in the past
the words that you said
will not last
fireworks that attract the eye
liar's words in the mind
an explosion of language
and then silence
they do so much damage
and cause violence
chasing words
feeling tiredness
healing words
are band-aids on the soul
a soothing to the ears
they're dropped in empty holes
for who hears?
who really listens?
words are dead
we have visions
images of creation
words are no salvation
just pointers
pointing to the infinite
still they loiter
words we can't forget
we hold them to our chest
like lifeless children
we always do our best
but the words **** them
and now all that's left
is dead...
dead words.

The earth is my mother and she is my home

The sky above me, wherever I am. This is my father, my guidance toward future prosperity

I make my way with honesty, docility and adaptability
I make them my divinity along with life and death

I relinquish all concept of strategy, design, tactics, law and talent
I place principle, benevolence and the grasp of fore-locking opportunity in their stead

I hear and spout both reason and madness yet take with me only sensibility and gratitude toward insight

I am no longer prompt, for I refuse to look into concepts toward times restriction

I have no time.
I make the moment my time, the lightning my eyes and the relentlessness of the onset storm my very being.

My mind is my vice, my sword, my castle
Wit is my devise and confusion my destruction

My fullness is my strength, my smile my cure
My emptiness my reckoning and serenity my allure

Farewell
to the
fairytales
that children tell.

We make
no more time
passing on
a long-gone songs
or simple rhymes.

Our taste for
the truly sublime
is past its prime.

The sweetness
of diversity
in creativity
has lost its longevity.

Whilst fools
clamor for
simple stories
and boring sports,
I grieve deeply
for the loss
of dreaming,
of seeing
and believing
great things
are future possibilities.

So, I serenade strangers
in poetry,
put on a parade
that nobody sees
and wait to die
unmourned by
the unmoved masses
of human cattle.

if there is an "after-life"
there may be a "before-life"
to die and depart this world
implies to be born and arrive
maybe to learn or to love
or to learn to love
and maybe, just maybe
we have died before
and this is an “after-life”