#motherearth
Behind the rocks there
is something mysterious --
You'd better not look.
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 2:22 AM UTC
Thereunto Sky Filled with Scars
O’er our beheld Ocean of Teeth
Seldomly Throwing Up Clouds and Stars
In sets of three for three sets of Crying Trees
Up and upon each Screaming Mountainside
Till moons pass half past a Quarter to Live
Or they shan’t view their Island in my Eye
Instead betwixt a Desert and Crude Sieve
Alas, nary a River Through our Sun
Nor a Volcano up the Arctic
Dost commit to Minds Overrun
Or coups for Governments Oligarchic
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 5:44 PM UTC
A grand scenery,
it makes my presence smaller --
and also my thoughts.
Mar 26, 2025
Mar 26, 2025 at 4:56 AM UTC
Water is royal:
a king without water falls --
apart into dust.
Jun 30, 2024
Jun 30, 2024 at 3:33 AM UTC
Orange light at night,
the whole wide country whirring:
the gas field is on.
May 3, 2024
May 3, 2024 at 3:32 AM UTC
The country: flare stacks,
from Loppersum to Tjuchem’s --
burning gates of hell.
May 3, 2024
May 3, 2024 at 3:30 AM UTC
Princes, princesses,
like everyone, each of us --
is an honoured guest.
Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 3:00 AM UTC
Mother Gaia is crying
Her tears kiss my skin as I
pollute my lungs on the porch
in a T shirt
She should be twirling
this time of year
all white-flake
wonder-eyes
fierce, cold
unapologetic skies
but we’ve been polluting Her lungs
for years
and so She cries —
warm, December rain
while I smoke
on my porch
in a t shirt
Dec 10, 2023
Dec 10, 2023 at 1:21 PM UTC
At night, full trains standing still
between the erigeron
The grass **** wobbles a bit
The water sighs
little waves over the railway
Geese splash around
Bye Atlantis
Bye floating gardens
Thank you, all the best
We're flying out
the earth is open
Where to, where to?
Rombom, the sun will come
Zirconium sparkles, colours
expectation everywhere
It paints our desire
promises us love and happiness
- a fabulastic home
Apr 4, 2023
Apr 4, 2023 at 3:33 AM UTC
My perspective between the rusty leaves
is a dream house on the edge of the forest
picked up on the way, in the fall
Rich colours in the sun caress
the wooden skin flakes
of Mother Earth
and I am passing by
just a moment
a guest
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 3:30 AM UTC
The hilly country
gives us to drink from its lap --
heavenly nectar.
Mar 26, 2023
Mar 26, 2023 at 3:29 AM UTC
i love
springtime
rain.
Huge thunderstorm
came through
here
last night.
Bright flashes of
lightening,
torrential downpour
cascading down.
Raindrops
batterting
Mother Earth's
thirsty ground.
Puppyhead did not
love it
like i.
She took herself
off to her stair.
The thunder booming
and
shaking,
My poor puppyhead
laid trembling there.
Unable to comfort
her,
to make her understand
how wonderful
this storm is.
Perhaps she feels
something
deeper than me?
More power,
more energy
of
that storm
raging there?
I think I feel a poem coming on...
May 5, 2022
May 5, 2022 at 2:28 AM UTC
The edge of my eternity begins with you.
My love, I lulled you with lyricless lullabies, sheltered you in a sheet of stars, yet, in your sleep you still speak her name. "Inferno," was it? You always were a pyromaniac.
I furnished you flames to tame winter's teeth, and yet, you still use them to burn me. How can you pour that boiling blackness in my bloodstream and dare to call it love?
You leave coal-like clouds swirling stormily in my lungs and the taste of smoke to scorch my tongue. Still, my throat is raw and red from coughing up ash and blood, still you call this torture love, and, I believed you.
Tell me, do my mulberry scars entice you? Those marks mingling with my skin of moss and morning glory; you put those there. You made a hell of my skin to rid me of the blue-green, beryl-shaded "blemishes" that provide the very breath you waste, only to build a factory to pump more poison into my lungs. I can taste the tar on my tongue.
My love, as you tear at my being with your careless claws you seem to forget the fact that you need me, but to me, you are meaningless.
Where I was once a sanctuary of life and beauty, you have made me a battlefield- a cemetery of living corpses craving to leave behind bombs and bloodshed, to cure their heart wrenching homesickness and to fall asleep in their lover's arms.
Why must their precious rubies mingle with the ashes of detonation? Why do you **** each other when I have provided you with my harmonic grounds as a home? Why do you raise your children to believe that dying is an art and death is an escape?
My love, I cannot understand why your knees are pained and purple from praying to the angels when you dance so divinely with the demons that you have created. You deserve each other.
Don't you see that you are burning me alive? Can't you smell my cooking flesh or see the charcoal clouds smothering the sky? How can your seeing eyes be so blind?
My love, my death is yours, and if I shall burn you shall blaze beside my broiling bones.
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 12:49 PM UTC
An exploded world
inside out
unfaltering
the water swallowed up
and the crust an asphalt sea
a dead sea, wasteland
where no cattle can graze
and everyone starves
is a horror dream
of one and a half hours
in the cinema hall
Outside we rely
on nuclear bombs and smart solutions
for a humane environment
because there is no growth
in placenta earth
Feb 21, 2022
Feb 21, 2022 at 3:15 AM UTC
Bare buttocks in the berm
free, peeing under my pants
laying down on my side
the world and I flatter
grass everywhere, empty
of chairs
blue flashing light over the ****
I think the sound
to the condensation stripes
My look jumps over
the ditch, sees hided
flowers, I hear beetles
that I don't hear
the grass colours my eyes
it flies upon my tongue
and lets me have a taste
green with marigold
and fresh *****
Feb 16, 2022
Feb 16, 2022 at 3:09 AM UTC
The clouds are the blood
of planet Earth, my mother --
the blood of my blood.
Jan 12, 2022
Jan 12, 2022 at 3:43 AM UTC
We are the Tree Poet
connection at The Source
communication via collaboration
triggers imagination
Food flows down the train
not to be sent back again
We receive when you do
all debts paid in gratitude
Blue rice is nice
while what you truly desire
always tastes best
We have access to all resources
Let us feed you
-The Trees
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 7:36 PM UTC
The Blossoms from the Pear-less Trees
blow like Snow in this spring breeze
glistening in the sunlight
smiling as their in flight
not a care about where they land
becoming one again with our Mother
this life
one adventure after another
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 7:07 PM UTC
And don’t weep my dear kid
For I will always remain in you
The grapes may seem sore
And the soup may seem tasteless
Yet, the land will always ground
And the skies would always welcome
The tongues may be sharp
And the shoulders may be sly
But my melody will be eternally present
If you try to listen the silence
And You might curse my creator
And complain to the commanding Air
Still, remember my disciple
I still don’t have harsh but Wise Nature
The one that resembles your high school teacher
You can stay here in lively camaraderie
I have the scales employed
I regularly clean the dust
When you want to play,
come here in laps of mahogany
When you want to work, employ my busy day
When you want to rest, choose the gentle night
At last, when you want to sleep
I will restore you to the five elements
Blessing you with a happy afterlife!
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 10:26 AM UTC
My Mother:
I ground my feet into Her
Gaze up at Her mountain peaks, tree tops and blue skies
Taste Her springs, swim in Her seas
Feel Her Love embrace me in the air that I breathe
Caressing my body, filling my lungs.
Her light brings life
Her dark brings depths of emotion
She blinds me yet helps me see so clearly
She inspires,
Fulfills my heart’s desires
Which is simply to feel Her
Underneath and all around me.
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 7:17 AM UTC
Pearl of the Indus,
January fades into February.
February slumbers in march on your lap,
I wonder what’s with the November criminals.
The waves of silence that
Hit our ears and eyes in October;
Did they get engulfed by the November criminals?
Late into the Maytime
January faded into February.
The flowers napped happily
As February bloomed it to march.
I understand if the flowers were stolen by the November criminals
But must they shroud the heavens too?
The little child wails along with sky and above
When the other children
Set them to fire.
November criminals;
What do you see in those November flower pots?
That you miss in march’s pots.
Do they have to crackle to bring joy in you?
Do they have to combust to bring life around you?
When they often take them away from you.
if you move with the moon every year,
why conceal it with your fog every night
during the five-day strike?
November criminals,
I’m afraid you can’t be contained.
The customs are bigger than the laws in our land.
Hopefully, you pass as a man-made disaster…
-4324
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 12:11 PM UTC
Rain is dramatic, but short lived-
storms half-hearted.
Sun shines strong and low
through art-work cloud, and
finger-print-blooms rock and sway
on a whispering green-leaf sea.
October 2020 is the hot-sweet-tea
left outside my room, after the row I caused
when I was 15.
Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 6:10 AM UTC
Love your Mother, because she loves you.
She brings you rainbows with radiant hues.
She brings you purples, reds, greens, and blues
on every flower petal, drenched in dew.
Celebrate your Mother, for her hand, is the sun.
Her gown is the wind that birds glide upon.
Her hair is babies breathe, free and undone;
growing wild in the fields where violets do run.
Blanket your Mother with adoration and time,
give her the space and peace of mind.
Her womb is a melon succulent and divine,
a grape that drips off an emerald vine.
Nurture your Mother, for the nature she holds,
never let her be compromised, bought, or sold.
Her pollen is life's one true mold.
Her soil is richer than diamonds and gold.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC