Fresh cut grass ,
the smeel is cast
that hidden stone is
clear and white atlast

It's grain is smooth
from rain and soot
Live again you ancient bed
of that passed river
which was ounce said
to hold
the earth
to balance

Uncountable names
stories forever muffled to die
in vain
A people so wide,
the crowd so many    
someone like you
probably lies here too.

Layers of Time
that all mix up
to a bundle of nothing
A piece of cloth, a needle and a bone
inbetween messengers
from dead things
to home

They went down the ground
like worms, mice and
burnt wood
Yet the grass dosen't carry their burden
for it's there you went and stood
upon their past
Not even sheding a tear
not even trying to hear

And some still hope life never ends
that you never go to sleep
Salvation
the ultimate cup of coffee
fresh enough
to grind your way through eternity
buying you
a good class ticket
to the Postcard Scenery of  
Lambs and Serenity

Fresh cut grass ,
the smeel is cast
that hidden stone is
clear and white atlast
Clouds approach:
I must resort
Farewell you lands
of Tears and Hope

Unamed princess
from a far set up parish
cup my hand into
your's again please

Let the willows I imagine
now whistle gently the tune
of my dreams
long gone.
Ask the child suppressed in you
if the lives we live here
are what we at that time
found true ?
We both think
we probably could speak out an answer
but in the end
we know well grow and regret just the same.

Your dress is tight, your smile is bright
just everything in this light seems right
Yet I'm getting worried more and more
that pleasures close some doors.

What are we chasing after
is it happiness, is it pleasure
maybe serenity or an epic treasure  
The thing is
nowone really knows
not even the priest,
bless him,
For if Peter exists he surely
highlight these names of peace.

I somehow wish
to spit these thoughts
right out my tumoring brain
and cleanse the
real felt pain.
I grab you by the neck now
your wonderful dress
pressed under my feet and
the park's green grass
as pin does over a bug.

I take you here, in the middle
of the park tucking it all down
you frown as I push the gown too
Now it faces me
I can clearly see a thing.

Are we promised anything ?
Are human beings just ******
old animals bright and clever
enough to know sister from lover
enemy from brother
winter from summer
marmalade from butter ?  

Animals do not worship
they don't create republics nor kingships
Even though they
were here first.
Evolution has changed their face
and the length if their tails
that's it, but here we all are
Only ten million Years counting
and already we fight
over who really is god's son

Like a ***** deep inside
its hole like any human on a beach
in the middle of a night.
I can sense things hugging
around me dripping smooth
transparent curtains of
cosmic covers

We both think we probably
could speak out an answer,
to the questions left to decipher.
But in the end we will probably
forget the problems brung up
by today's day and age
And since we will,
like everyone else;
it surely musn't have
been that important.