Good morning!
You have been greeted by pink and orange roses this time.
Do you mind?

We actually have everything here!
They shape as we wish
under colorful prayer flags.

Flags receive their color
daily fresh from
rainbow harvesting lands.

We have dots of hopes breathing inside.

Look! here is one drawing,
etched by a child for you.

She says it is you and her
walking hand in hand
entering a building
which would look like home for you.

She says if you look carefully
you won’t feel lonely here.

They do shine really
these dots of hopes
She too is a dot of hope.

You just don’t need to think
It’s that easy
so they can outline with you
even almost literally

A cool warm indigo spot
hidden behind the imaginary walls of an igloo.

An igloo is made of living frosted color glass
We call them our red blue green recharge huts
similar to your dreams:

it is something like
when you would see a remote tea-light
with the side of your eye
and make it an ardent nautical sign
of an early morning
that fades to a call of
a nameless  
well known
yet unexplored
future memories
while
it is still so still

slowly then
yellow catches up

our sun
outpaces dawn
and mixes up jazz

an ensemble we are then
something similar to your differentiable landscapes
but ours are nowhere-differentiable

so please hold that little girl’s hand now
She will teach you home
this time.

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
when it ‘s dark

it shines morning skies

I suspect
yours is no paint
but an invisible skin  
that secretly
gazes
and inhales
moods of me
to shape thyself
in harmonic postures
of us

so that
you and I
will manifest
one ride one road
roads will form with us

we pedal a mantra

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
no matter the light
you are by my side

but at times
like tonight
when we are apart

I may also prefer to walk alone sometimes

under a starlight
to witness
the change
of a phase
of matter

an urge
to relate
to my body
differently
maybe

as I used to do sometimes

that walking fast
activates a memory
they would know
where to take me
and so I follow
my footsteps
just

empty streets
is you
in my mind
I compose
random chords
of traffic
of cars
of flows
of minds

sounds
cannot catch up
with us
neither of pasts nor of futures
words escape to stars

stars will sing lyrics for you
for us  
next time when we align
each time a song of reality
is a new one

my bike blue
is a special blue
that’s how I recognize you
second life was the name
of the man
who made me for you

I changed a title recently
Not so deliberately
neither to bother nor to make happy
but a joke at most
when it comes to wishful thinking.

It was a moment in the shower
‘a bit of singing
a bit of equation solving
a bit of cleansing’
then I knew what was missing
so it goes...
while you do as if you are not thinking
but you still think
with the side of your mind
during sleeping
cooking
washing the dishes
ironing
…

All these irrelevant daily tasks
serve for creating motion
to resolve an x
that sits not so right
in your mind
towards some essence

I changed a title recently
Not so deliberately
to make you happy
or sad
or paranoid
or mad

It's just a matter of knowing
the true self
at most

tell me if there is more than that
but I know you can’t.

We never met but when I think about you that sudden heavenly fragrance fills my air
Covers uncongealed irregular volumes of minimal fluid
Teases me to the level of my nose so that I can smell a forgotten reality.

Is that maybe the ability of your sobriety trespassing through my impenetrable doors
immaterializing the burden of the heaviness of my lost lamented selves to an all equally valid lucidity?
  
You came so close recently
while I was doing shopping on a gloomy rainy afternoon
creating a **** twist at an ending of my mouth line revealing
a sudden dreamy smile which had the inspiration to give birth to an orange flash of joy.

A joy that clears away the opaque broken colorless paint to a crystalline transparency
so that
so that I can see
the truth of me through your poetry.

We witness and observe at rest now
All of our indubitable aura
of equivalent authenticity
Hanging in balance
Subtly floating
Flowing the airy
In the suit of colorful wild flowers of an unknown prairie
and only this way
I can relate to each of me
without being afraid of losing the permanency
of you or of me.

If you could be everyone for me
then I am sure nobody wants me.

Have you also smelled the snow today?
I reckon!

It came to me eyes shut
A little summer breeze outside

Carried by an undeceive December rain
Waiting for a rainbow sunshine
But it never happens!

And I know it is unlikely
here the snow  inside
or meteorologically outside

except maybe it’s on your sight light-years away
I should be smelling a living joy as what is lost of me

and so I become a snowflake
to connect
hang just
above a mountain lake

a bit nonchalant
as I like to be sometimes
by my temperance the wind balanced
so that I stay upright
above an exact measurable point
become the fairest of fairies
a fairy-bride feathery white

for fun

but also to pass on spirits of me properly
as I stretch myself from dust  to my wholest parts
I become the matter of the flake’s material
and I don’t care but know only by being
the duped me infinitesimally

either the one above this lake or another
slowly descending one
to touch the tip of your nose or lip or forehead
And I know then you will recognize me at once
when I tickle you softly
as you know so well by now  
how it thrills and hurts in one breath
cold or hot spot
that’s what our game is about right?

Which one is of you or of me
haha I DON’T KNOW really THE DIFFERENCE it seems
is getting a little blurry
AND that not only for me but also for you
or thee
and that very last one for fun or for the sake of the rhyme ONLY!

Oh the kiddos outta there
whoever again dare to call me names that end it with a Girl or a Mademoiselle

You at most reflect an image of me to fit to the level of your potency
same as to a ridicule of your fantasy
weeping and spitting big turfs of
-at most admirably-
musical words
as your age allows you to be

an equivalence that functions still
OH THE WOW in most efficiency
only whenever the rhythmic pumping ejects seedlings
to swim up the rat-race
from your reptilian starship  
parked at sacred ocean’s depths
crossing a few inches behind thyn abdomen
towards your jellyfish brain

and that’s shorter than TIME
oh the poor whining with BIG Holy One
hidden in the oaths of your monstrous
zombie-town

so now listen in PURE Attention to me (if you can)  

It’s True my first kiss was at age twenty three
HAHAHA and yet not even a romantic one
at most an obligatory
who knows maybe a task
from the higher self
probably to teach me
or the physical body -

YES and the last one at age forty
that tried to **** all the ****** futility outta me
the rest and the in between remains dark and edgy and thorny

who cares when it does not bother me
what business does relate to you oh my Sexuality
or the inherited ****’ beauty
but that makes not less of me when
I am now almost 43  
my coal black hair made of Sea Breeze
grows the beauty of my aging color
to the creamy WHITE topping of delicious wisdom cookies
baked by my peaceful wishing
the joy of my child innocence remains
to fire Passion and Desire
which I reserve
to one/ single poem only
who made me realize the truth of me recently  
that I  haven’t yet dated … a Monsieur
who dares to call me a Madame
with whom I can fully be Me and grow towards a maturity.

He was a thief
and he did it ‘all the time’
that stealing
he used to call
enlightening
for the others in loss
so they spiritually grow

he was not only a thief
but also a liar
–towards himself-
what’s worse?

always another
chic - trendy -
authentic - to go -
oriental -  family
fast – arty -
road - five-star
four-calendar  
cheap an deli
and so many
with branded words
dictionaries fall futile to describe
types of restaurants where
he ate from
without a check
a humble gift from my guru
for my accomplishments
he said –
his guru to whom he in percentages fed back
otherwise he would be for good dead
more dead than the dead
because it is beyond the scope
of this story but just know that
he already was dead -
my delicious soul food
he cunningly said.

he was not only a thief and a liar
but also stupid
what’s worse?

blinded by his tall victory
planning the future only
a robot army
that shall **** humanity
for he could be the only one on earth
the one who was made of human wanted that!
unable to comprehend
with his victorious- photoshopped head
always looking forward
as if more ahead
than anyone ahead
far  far beyond clouds of
oil stick slime and dirt
so that the
impure material would
fill his brainless head
for a temporary while
oh my that pretty skull
implanted with sunny hair and glowing starry eye
had all the luxurious capacity of space
a palace for the richest he says
I live in
on the last floor of the highest building
ever made on the planet
always busy baptizing
with cosmetics
branded as pure mountain water and Angelica White herb
he switches off his room size TV and looks down affectionately
(where in reality he overlooks) and self adoringly shakes in triumph
‘I see all humanity
they bug and harvest their own Ignis Fatuus
No I need no TV
this is my true warranty
I am the preacher
I am reborn’.

He was not only a thief and a liar and stupid
but also ignorant
what’s worse?

as he continued to praise his ‘what could have been’s
he forgot the ‘what is’
having numbed the essence he
was unable to feel the growing green grass
under his foot soles

nature as compassionate as always
tries to nurture his lost soul
even for him,
by building a shelter
where he could also grow a brain
in meditation
long term
may/could/would he also have then
a true home
built on the mountain of truth

Oh the nature so pure, beautiful  and naive
continued to plan hand in hand
with a hard-working bumblebee
so he could learn to be free
without  depending on a guru
or on casual vampiric activity

so
what nature does?

she builds a home for him
even adds a pretty angel in
that could be an ever after
sweetheart for him.

he was not only a thief and a liar and stupid and ignorant
but also blind
what’s worse?

so blind that
upon seeing the angel
(his twin of opposite nature)
he did not recognize her
and one night he broke in his own house
plundered everything that has been gifted for him
and dropped the key  as always but
this time inside
where she lived
in the hearts of the hearts
on top of the mountains of truth
on a clearing
beyond the clouds of love
where their house was built

and as usual he escaped
far far away
until he consumed
all that he had
politely ****** and laughed
******* his fantasies in the lands beyond the oily custard
custard distilled by seedless smoke clouds  made of evil he knew so well
until he was left with one
white flower with living roots

Who are you !
What are you !
he whined and cried in terror and fear
hearing his own true voice for the first time
after ages and after ******* generations’ gifts

here is the flower’s reply:

I am you
so
be me
plant me
so
you can see
break the blasphemy
and
if you can
become
you again
and grow
truthfully
you will
reach to
where
she leaves
lifetimes long
lifetimes after
when
she sees
you or of you
she will recognize
you
as she truly will kiss
by her kiss
you shall at once
be blessed
freed
convert
to a prince
of her
dreams
and
always
remember
to keep
her
dream alive
as
she
is
made
of
love
otherwise
you
and all
of you
shall
eternally
die.

‘What? Becoming a flower! That’s the worst’ he replied
and dropped his only living copy of the key.

But s/he ,
s/he who had a dream
was in your dream
recently
to tell you
a secret
given to it
by an ascetic
in its dream

The warrior
s/he said
is who you really are

that’s why
you should be
here and now
an avatar
of countless postures of you

manifest
an energy
which can convert
renew
and
is to be delivered to
the identical selves
through
invisible aural tunnels

These resonate ideally
remain non-audible
except for the two
communicating ends.

s/he or it
in your dream
-might have been a messenger
a messenger to deliver you the message-
was linked
in a sense that you might not want
but should honor
for the upcoming task
set on the warrior’s path

and you two
have one great number
a written secret

s/he or it has acquired
through an ascetic
in its dream
and you
from it
in your dream
in a form
that you won’t forget
but which
nobody will ever notice or
find back

written
on a side of a white torn bit
sheltered
in the house of the spirit
the path of truth should be received

As a Choice Only
in Full Consciousness
with Full Knowing Only

because
when once received
truth as love  
is one way exit
you must know-make it your gift

longing incites the illusive
when illusive is incited
a rose fragrance
rises
to stop the four.petalled turn
the Visionary.Imaginary whips shadows
to block the true sight

you lose then your moon cycles
step on a thorny dark edge
to be tested
to find the way to truth
to find means to create the path

intuition is your only : trust the breadcrumbs
and the upright flying bird
has the breath of genuine  
to set the next vibratory path
  
at both ends
of a stretched  line
twin natures should awaken
in rhyme
and be made one
let then the following program run:

opposite charges to return a kiss
a kiss to collapse the helix
right there
as far as the integers of the soul’s string  
the exit to truth lies at a clearing

Walk the cave made of the living
illuminated by the full moon’s shine
Let your cycle return before dawn

so ends an end by you two as Two becomes One
It’s just a dot or a line or a number which ends and starts.
There is no difference really at a place without Time.
or at an eternal frequency which is timeless.

We cannot tell you more.
That’s all our nature allows us to know.