Hallo,
hab leider mal wieder kiloweise Gedichte auf Deutsch dem Feuer geschenkt...bleibt im Moment *nur* was auf english. Mit wenig Aenderungen auch in einem Dichterforum zu lesen, hier die leicht verbesserte Version
TIME MASTER
1) IN THE DRY MOUNTAINS
In my little round stone house,
petrified igloo of glass lime
where I can see
the paranoia dogs
singing under sinking Sirius,
souls wandering around
at black moon,
the hyperboreen guardien
and the angel
with skies in the eyes.
Silhouettes of plam trees
and Rosemary,
Johanna the pine tree
and on the other side
of the little spanish valley is
the house of death.
In my little round house
at the other side of the valley,
shepards shelter of
the last judgement,
I am
measuring the rain and the pain
of bread peoples
trash bin world.
Dreams of stuffed trash men
with telescopic eyes
like petrified stars
staring above the breathing
sea beyond, dreaming their
telescopic dreams.
This is the road that winds above
into the dry spanish mountains without
a caravan,
just dust, blood, sweat and tears.
The road of the
dead clothes and lost teeth
where the crystal traps
lead towards the driest place
of pale red sceletton pines with
little green needles and thorny, toxic heartheat leaves
that hold you back like
time freezing thoughts
of oily metal witches
who pass like nightmares,
introducing their
toxic hormon like vapors
into the spanish polar breeze.
2) THE PRAYING MANTIS
The priests wife
biting off the heads
of its victims, eating
out their hearts and sucking out
what is left of an angel
for the rest of his short life.
Men stumbeling
around scratching metal and paper whilst
its time barely passes.
Vampires eternity is like its victims minutes-
poisoned time flows whilst
the mantis,
pretending to pray,
but only bitter greed and dry bones
litter her way as it sits
besides the dusty road
like in an image gallery,
of food images,
fallen out of paradise,
out of the world.
Lurking for new food like
fallen angels in its trap
called the mother
earth.
Because young angels are stars,
warm stars it likes to feed on,
once fallen into her black hole without a ground but
a camouflaged time buckle
where it, the god shroom
feeds on the dead bodies
by causing infectious swellings called
sexual organs and brains
which are used to spread the disease.
There is only one dusty road and only one house
besides it with a warm fire-
its called
shelter of the last judgement.
Its Neptuns folk and honey color melodies cause
the center of paradise is an infinitely
beautiful melody.
Who sees the gem stones in my hands
can be saved.
3) UNREAL CITY
Each city is a petrified, materialised nightmare
of fallen stars, addicted angels and their
traps- one for each.
Its the revange of the unfree dogs
who became real soul hunters
in the other world.
Who is it speaking to me
in the middle of this night,
its the fire, its
the fleeing souls in the wood,
singing under Sirius,
my family is the fire
and my soul is the world.
4) THE BOOK OF DOG
I am sitting by my campfire above
the city,
besides the dusty road
with oranges and coffee,
waiting for you
but all are too busy
running around to throw
themselvs into the next worsed toothless,
toxic
and deadly mother mouth-
hell that closes down,
occluding their
magic stic into
dirty, sick meat without heart or feeling
only pretending
to be alive.
In the city of the dead
where the stuffed, the dead sing
their dog music howling,
their dead music
of the infected.
In-out-in-out.
Left-right-left-right
until insaity pulls them
off their old and used
bodies into
meet hell again.
Adam and Edam
were the first to fuck down
the sinkhole of humanity,
crating death and time,
no sword of pride, no
column of heaven but
the slickery snake dicks that creep back into the holes
it creeped out of-
their brains turned upside down
in bat peoples city, in
baby peoples city condammed by the smells
of the hells they just creeped out of.
Turned into mindless moths just seeking to
throw themselves down
the next hormon stinking abyss into
mad, crazy, mindless numbness in
dead meat
singing their dogs music
under the stars they once
used to be
just weeks ago.
Hu-uuuuu.
They live according to
the dogs big old book-
according to the upside down cross
turned towards mother meat
wandering long the dusty road
that leads nowhere but straight
into the next teethless mouth of hell,
spilling their life time
all over the place,
dying of eternal hunger
on their hunt
en vain
for the next
praying mantis.
5) FALLEN GODS
If there was one that
was still a bit alife
and a beauty, a star,
that could stand my fire and smoke,
I d share an orange
avec lui
but if he swallows it allone
like the apple of death
stumbeling around and not
daring to look at his fellow
fallen angels
and afraid of my sword which
is like a razor blade.
Cities are unreal places
where the living dead
meet to find their
carnivore death mouths.
And each time they thought they found their
ideal soul eater, its
only their mother
and doughter.
6) THE PIPER AT THE GREEN GATES OF DAWN
Winter is taking a long time to go away this year-
what is that thundering sound
like a distant waterfall
is it more polar air flowing in.
The only really bright thing
in this world is the sun.
I am the piper at the green gates of dawn and
who wants to spend a moment with me
may find his way
back into paradise.
7) ESCAPE
The dead are my friends,
all dead are my friends and
my lovers, so are
all living.
Becaus I dont do things that might
or do cause birth and death.
They all look at me
from their graveyard pictures
with the same burning wish
in their beautiful, scared
spanish eyes-
to ged rid of the abyss
they all fell into
to shoot the moon
out of the sky.
For the moon is not the night sun but
the black shadow eating
the night sun each month.
You have the choice
come to me by my warm fire,
dont
be afraid of me smelling
a little of smoke and
looking a little earthly.
Otherwise you end up
the other side
up the dusty road
where the city crematory
smokes on the other
side of the valley of life
the only way out
of this unreal city.
Then we walk past the guardiens of paradiese
and hell
by the place without rabbits or holes,
up towards the
purple flowers of my beloved
Rosemary with the
infinitely beautiful
patterns on them
by the crystals, the clouds
and towards the springs in the mountains
that are springs of eternal life.
Night is over by now,
me still writing in my
little round stone shelter
which is as big as the world cause its round.
My fire is burning
and the eastern horizon turnes violett green
fire and the first
mediterraneen morning bird
singing in my shelter
of eternal life.
8) FLOWER PATH
The biggest danger in the world is
the carnivore mothermouth you
just creeped out of
so as soon as you are capable
of moving yourself-
move away from anything that looks, smells
and feels like it.
For this hole is more dangerous than the
wide open mouth
of a toxic snake.
Creep towards the light only and never ever
into dark holes where
you cant see the ground.
Take a breath and look
around you in the unreal city-
you ll always see the darkest place, usually
squared cause
hell has four courners which are
me, you, him and her.
Up, down, left and right.
Then creep in the opposite direction of such dark holes
in the landscape
and towards the light and the colors
of life.
Creep towards the sun, towards the stars, the birds, the clouds
and all that is in the sky and you will
survive.
Dont creep back where you came out of
cause its your mother, sister and
daughter at the same time.
No place to use up your magic sticks
which loose all magic
that way and become
the rusty swords of death instead.
It is a carnivore which reaches through several dimensions and
times-
trying to look just like us before
Edam got his magic stick
cut off and slit open
and his middle
torn out-
never ever put your magic stick in a fresh religious wound
that just startet healing, that
still bleeds for the moon,
from
the murder.
Why are all people blind- its
happening again and again each month
in the sky,
visible
for everybody.
Adam and Edam fucked themselves into hell
is written in the book of Dog.
How can you think
by eating fruits one can
fall out of paradise?
Eating apple means fucking.
Spider praying mantis is all you create that way.
Their offspring, selfish copies, then eat whats left of you.
Their dogs are nothing but their materialised sexual energy organs-
fear and greed.
Go after the flowers, smell a flower every morning and youre safe,
a little melody and kind words
and sunlight and youll be better.
9) ISLAND IN TIME
Theres a chance that you find
my little shelter-
enter and have a seat by my fire
theres a free chair,
a good spanish chair
waiting for you.
10) THE GOD RITUAL
Its their dogs-
the rainbow snake swallowing itself, its
a time buckle, the GOD ritual and it always goes the same way
sitting there getting face fucked with
ice cream pretending to pray and
ice cream dripping
past the book of Dog onto their wound
and the dog wont wait to eat
what is his.
11) MICHAEL
I am Michael the sword sharpener who
takes care of your rusty, dirty and numb swords
I sharpen them with infinite creativity, tenderness and
real love
like if they were flowers
and they ll become
sharp again
like razor blades and they ll serve you in the battle
against the creeping abysses of time,
I will maken them
sharp again after you destroyed them
in toxic, dirty infected meat
fluids.
There are not many people playing
the flute at sunrise-
if you know one
youre luckey and if he
plays real heart music
youre in paradis.
Clouds
boiling over the mountains
in the river of air
streaming and steamning
where the warm air sinks into skies
like the water of life
which flows from Aquarius
corn of abondance
into the stream of time,
of
frozen light.
Streamline wave clouds
stand still above
the spanish coastal mountains,
purple glowing over
the mediterraneen sea below
with the unreal city of lightstones
materializing in dawnlight.
Flowers and crystals
can save you if you fall
into the river again.
The smell of flowers being the
most magic stuff in the world
opposite of the dogholes toxic
hormon vapours which
dont mean love but just
kill your brains and numb your souls.
The tips of the pine trees in my garden on earth
and the palm trees and olive trees
swing and sing in the cool
spanish morning breeze,
me sitting high above
the unreal city and playing
the melodies of etenal life and love
on my magic flute
towards the rising sun.
Sitting on the roof of my house
above the river of time.
Be courageous and get a grip,
pull yourself out of that river by saying
the three magic words that can
free anybody from hell:
never will I fuck cunt again.
Then get out of that stinking
meatflow of lost bodies
get a wash by my spring
of mountain water,
get a wash in smoke and
sit by my fire with me
in a clean,
light place
in the mountains
just the music of etenity and the
stars above.
12) ROSMARIE
The path amongst the flowers,
each one is the most beautiful
work of art for
flowers are stars that came down
so you can be closer to them
and feel them
and smell them
with infinitely delicate hands
and magic touch,
electric touch,
charging whatever you touch
with electric fire of life.
Each Rosemarie flower around my house
has an individual and unique design,
no two are the same.
The bumbelbee, my friend, comes and
says hello to me,
somebody calls his dog
and the rocks under me are warm.
No wild animal is afraid of me cause
I dont eat them.
The gardeners start taking care
of their flowers further down the valley-
the catalan morning birds
sing behind my
three palm trees
and the magpie is talking in such a lovely
way further up the valley
of palm trees.
No hurry but dont be too slow
in the dead city.
In this place of the
living dead with the
frozen skies in their eyes
you only survive
when you are the stronges and the most tender,
the fastest and the slowest,
the most creative and the most
truthful
at the same time.
13) PANADIS
I am the glass boy
I am the water boy
I am the wind boy,
I am the flower boy,
I am the fire boy your love
of life and infinite ectasy.
God Pan is not a spirit nor in a book but
he is well and alive like all gods.
Only fuckers think that gods need to hide
or be invisible and untouchable.
Dont creep and fuck yourself back into the
abysses you just came out of-
walk upright like Michael
and keep your sword upright
your magic stick
and only let
angels hands touch it
to get out of it
the infinite ectatic flow
of never ending electric
and magic power
what it is made for.
Come to me and I will
teach you to walk, danse and speak again
for Im the first of all dansers, the best of all speakers
and you can learn to stay
beautiful in Paradis
without any effort just by doing what you really
love most.
Which is the only and simplest but the
hardest thing to do in order to get right into paradis.
************************************************** *******
Written in the early morning hours the 20th of February 2018
(minor corrections today)
in some spanish town
with infinite thanks to all my angels
I met during my long journey and
who gave me all their love possible
and enough power to give almost everything I write to the fire
so it arrives in all human minds that still have the fire of life
and thanks to my electric inspirations
Tom the Waiter
The Boored
Think Boyd
and
T. S. Oiled
*
hab leider mal wieder kiloweise Gedichte auf Deutsch dem Feuer geschenkt...bleibt im Moment *nur* was auf english. Mit wenig Aenderungen auch in einem Dichterforum zu lesen, hier die leicht verbesserte Version
TIME MASTER
1) IN THE DRY MOUNTAINS
In my little round stone house,
petrified igloo of glass lime
where I can see
the paranoia dogs
singing under sinking Sirius,
souls wandering around
at black moon,
the hyperboreen guardien
and the angel
with skies in the eyes.
Silhouettes of plam trees
and Rosemary,
Johanna the pine tree
and on the other side
of the little spanish valley is
the house of death.
In my little round house
at the other side of the valley,
shepards shelter of
the last judgement,
I am
measuring the rain and the pain
of bread peoples
trash bin world.
Dreams of stuffed trash men
with telescopic eyes
like petrified stars
staring above the breathing
sea beyond, dreaming their
telescopic dreams.
This is the road that winds above
into the dry spanish mountains without
a caravan,
just dust, blood, sweat and tears.
The road of the
dead clothes and lost teeth
where the crystal traps
lead towards the driest place
of pale red sceletton pines with
little green needles and thorny, toxic heartheat leaves
that hold you back like
time freezing thoughts
of oily metal witches
who pass like nightmares,
introducing their
toxic hormon like vapors
into the spanish polar breeze.
2) THE PRAYING MANTIS
The priests wife
biting off the heads
of its victims, eating
out their hearts and sucking out
what is left of an angel
for the rest of his short life.
Men stumbeling
around scratching metal and paper whilst
its time barely passes.
Vampires eternity is like its victims minutes-
poisoned time flows whilst
the mantis,
pretending to pray,
but only bitter greed and dry bones
litter her way as it sits
besides the dusty road
like in an image gallery,
of food images,
fallen out of paradise,
out of the world.
Lurking for new food like
fallen angels in its trap
called the mother
earth.
Because young angels are stars,
warm stars it likes to feed on,
once fallen into her black hole without a ground but
a camouflaged time buckle
where it, the god shroom
feeds on the dead bodies
by causing infectious swellings called
sexual organs and brains
which are used to spread the disease.
There is only one dusty road and only one house
besides it with a warm fire-
its called
shelter of the last judgement.
Its Neptuns folk and honey color melodies cause
the center of paradise is an infinitely
beautiful melody.
Who sees the gem stones in my hands
can be saved.
3) UNREAL CITY
Each city is a petrified, materialised nightmare
of fallen stars, addicted angels and their
traps- one for each.
Its the revange of the unfree dogs
who became real soul hunters
in the other world.
Who is it speaking to me
in the middle of this night,
its the fire, its
the fleeing souls in the wood,
singing under Sirius,
my family is the fire
and my soul is the world.
4) THE BOOK OF DOG
I am sitting by my campfire above
the city,
besides the dusty road
with oranges and coffee,
waiting for you
but all are too busy
running around to throw
themselvs into the next worsed toothless,
toxic
and deadly mother mouth-
hell that closes down,
occluding their
magic stic into
dirty, sick meat without heart or feeling
only pretending
to be alive.
In the city of the dead
where the stuffed, the dead sing
their dog music howling,
their dead music
of the infected.
In-out-in-out.
Left-right-left-right
until insaity pulls them
off their old and used
bodies into
meet hell again.
Adam and Edam
were the first to fuck down
the sinkhole of humanity,
crating death and time,
no sword of pride, no
column of heaven but
the slickery snake dicks that creep back into the holes
it creeped out of-
their brains turned upside down
in bat peoples city, in
baby peoples city condammed by the smells
of the hells they just creeped out of.
Turned into mindless moths just seeking to
throw themselves down
the next hormon stinking abyss into
mad, crazy, mindless numbness in
dead meat
singing their dogs music
under the stars they once
used to be
just weeks ago.
Hu-uuuuu.
They live according to
the dogs big old book-
according to the upside down cross
turned towards mother meat
wandering long the dusty road
that leads nowhere but straight
into the next teethless mouth of hell,
spilling their life time
all over the place,
dying of eternal hunger
on their hunt
en vain
for the next
praying mantis.
5) FALLEN GODS
If there was one that
was still a bit alife
and a beauty, a star,
that could stand my fire and smoke,
I d share an orange
avec lui
but if he swallows it allone
like the apple of death
stumbeling around and not
daring to look at his fellow
fallen angels
and afraid of my sword which
is like a razor blade.
Cities are unreal places
where the living dead
meet to find their
carnivore death mouths.
And each time they thought they found their
ideal soul eater, its
only their mother
and doughter.
6) THE PIPER AT THE GREEN GATES OF DAWN
Winter is taking a long time to go away this year-
what is that thundering sound
like a distant waterfall
is it more polar air flowing in.
The only really bright thing
in this world is the sun.
I am the piper at the green gates of dawn and
who wants to spend a moment with me
may find his way
back into paradise.
7) ESCAPE
The dead are my friends,
all dead are my friends and
my lovers, so are
all living.
Becaus I dont do things that might
or do cause birth and death.
They all look at me
from their graveyard pictures
with the same burning wish
in their beautiful, scared
spanish eyes-
to ged rid of the abyss
they all fell into
to shoot the moon
out of the sky.
For the moon is not the night sun but
the black shadow eating
the night sun each month.
You have the choice
come to me by my warm fire,
dont
be afraid of me smelling
a little of smoke and
looking a little earthly.
Otherwise you end up
the other side
up the dusty road
where the city crematory
smokes on the other
side of the valley of life
the only way out
of this unreal city.
Then we walk past the guardiens of paradiese
and hell
by the place without rabbits or holes,
up towards the
purple flowers of my beloved
Rosemary with the
infinitely beautiful
patterns on them
by the crystals, the clouds
and towards the springs in the mountains
that are springs of eternal life.
Night is over by now,
me still writing in my
little round stone shelter
which is as big as the world cause its round.
My fire is burning
and the eastern horizon turnes violett green
fire and the first
mediterraneen morning bird
singing in my shelter
of eternal life.
8) FLOWER PATH
The biggest danger in the world is
the carnivore mothermouth you
just creeped out of
so as soon as you are capable
of moving yourself-
move away from anything that looks, smells
and feels like it.
For this hole is more dangerous than the
wide open mouth
of a toxic snake.
Creep towards the light only and never ever
into dark holes where
you cant see the ground.
Take a breath and look
around you in the unreal city-
you ll always see the darkest place, usually
squared cause
hell has four courners which are
me, you, him and her.
Up, down, left and right.
Then creep in the opposite direction of such dark holes
in the landscape
and towards the light and the colors
of life.
Creep towards the sun, towards the stars, the birds, the clouds
and all that is in the sky and you will
survive.
Dont creep back where you came out of
cause its your mother, sister and
daughter at the same time.
No place to use up your magic sticks
which loose all magic
that way and become
the rusty swords of death instead.
It is a carnivore which reaches through several dimensions and
times-
trying to look just like us before
Edam got his magic stick
cut off and slit open
and his middle
torn out-
never ever put your magic stick in a fresh religious wound
that just startet healing, that
still bleeds for the moon,
from
the murder.
Why are all people blind- its
happening again and again each month
in the sky,
visible
for everybody.
Adam and Edam fucked themselves into hell
is written in the book of Dog.
How can you think
by eating fruits one can
fall out of paradise?
Eating apple means fucking.
Spider praying mantis is all you create that way.
Their offspring, selfish copies, then eat whats left of you.
Their dogs are nothing but their materialised sexual energy organs-
fear and greed.
Go after the flowers, smell a flower every morning and youre safe,
a little melody and kind words
and sunlight and youll be better.
9) ISLAND IN TIME
Theres a chance that you find
my little shelter-
enter and have a seat by my fire
theres a free chair,
a good spanish chair
waiting for you.
10) THE GOD RITUAL
Its their dogs-
the rainbow snake swallowing itself, its
a time buckle, the GOD ritual and it always goes the same way
sitting there getting face fucked with
ice cream pretending to pray and
ice cream dripping
past the book of Dog onto their wound
and the dog wont wait to eat
what is his.
11) MICHAEL
I am Michael the sword sharpener who
takes care of your rusty, dirty and numb swords
I sharpen them with infinite creativity, tenderness and
real love
like if they were flowers
and they ll become
sharp again
like razor blades and they ll serve you in the battle
against the creeping abysses of time,
I will maken them
sharp again after you destroyed them
in toxic, dirty infected meat
fluids.
There are not many people playing
the flute at sunrise-
if you know one
youre luckey and if he
plays real heart music
youre in paradis.
Clouds
boiling over the mountains
in the river of air
streaming and steamning
where the warm air sinks into skies
like the water of life
which flows from Aquarius
corn of abondance
into the stream of time,
of
frozen light.
Streamline wave clouds
stand still above
the spanish coastal mountains,
purple glowing over
the mediterraneen sea below
with the unreal city of lightstones
materializing in dawnlight.
Flowers and crystals
can save you if you fall
into the river again.
The smell of flowers being the
most magic stuff in the world
opposite of the dogholes toxic
hormon vapours which
dont mean love but just
kill your brains and numb your souls.
The tips of the pine trees in my garden on earth
and the palm trees and olive trees
swing and sing in the cool
spanish morning breeze,
me sitting high above
the unreal city and playing
the melodies of etenal life and love
on my magic flute
towards the rising sun.
Sitting on the roof of my house
above the river of time.
Be courageous and get a grip,
pull yourself out of that river by saying
the three magic words that can
free anybody from hell:
never will I fuck cunt again.
Then get out of that stinking
meatflow of lost bodies
get a wash by my spring
of mountain water,
get a wash in smoke and
sit by my fire with me
in a clean,
light place
in the mountains
just the music of etenity and the
stars above.
12) ROSMARIE
The path amongst the flowers,
each one is the most beautiful
work of art for
flowers are stars that came down
so you can be closer to them
and feel them
and smell them
with infinitely delicate hands
and magic touch,
electric touch,
charging whatever you touch
with electric fire of life.
Each Rosemarie flower around my house
has an individual and unique design,
no two are the same.
The bumbelbee, my friend, comes and
says hello to me,
somebody calls his dog
and the rocks under me are warm.
No wild animal is afraid of me cause
I dont eat them.
The gardeners start taking care
of their flowers further down the valley-
the catalan morning birds
sing behind my
three palm trees
and the magpie is talking in such a lovely
way further up the valley
of palm trees.
No hurry but dont be too slow
in the dead city.
In this place of the
living dead with the
frozen skies in their eyes
you only survive
when you are the stronges and the most tender,
the fastest and the slowest,
the most creative and the most
truthful
at the same time.
13) PANADIS
I am the glass boy
I am the water boy
I am the wind boy,
I am the flower boy,
I am the fire boy your love
of life and infinite ectasy.
God Pan is not a spirit nor in a book but
he is well and alive like all gods.
Only fuckers think that gods need to hide
or be invisible and untouchable.
Dont creep and fuck yourself back into the
abysses you just came out of-
walk upright like Michael
and keep your sword upright
your magic stick
and only let
angels hands touch it
to get out of it
the infinite ectatic flow
of never ending electric
and magic power
what it is made for.
Come to me and I will
teach you to walk, danse and speak again
for Im the first of all dansers, the best of all speakers
and you can learn to stay
beautiful in Paradis
without any effort just by doing what you really
love most.
Which is the only and simplest but the
hardest thing to do in order to get right into paradis.
************************************************** *******
Written in the early morning hours the 20th of February 2018
(minor corrections today)
in some spanish town
with infinite thanks to all my angels
I met during my long journey and
who gave me all their love possible
and enough power to give almost everything I write to the fire
so it arrives in all human minds that still have the fire of life
and thanks to my electric inspirations
Tom the Waiter
The Boored
Think Boyd
and
T. S. Oiled
*