Good luck.

We have learned about this moment

and we have heard about this time.

we have watched with blind spendour.

We have thrown away years...

years with thoughts...

Wasted energy

in the deep wells of fortune.

Now we have animals in our souls

awake

with Life back on track.

There is no road

there is no light

Thers is only heart.

And heart is All.

Good luck.

I have pushed the thread 
through
I am ready to heal our wounds
Numb pain 
but calm heart 
though I am shaken by the burden.
The cracks and wounds in my own heart
have grown crooked
Its wisdom is scattered enough now.
I have hardened.
But I do not complain, nor will I ever..
You see...
I have this thread
And together with its needle
I can teach. 
I can teach the art of helping

What will it take before you will listen

 The hearing of man is weakened,
These times of wonderful deceit,
will now tramp on whats left of your Garden.

For it is with your actions they come---
your order was the Beginning of it all.

Our houses and our museums are no longer part of history.
They are mere pieces of an unfulfilled masterworks.
See you not, Man?

Time is here again. 
Time is here to act.
Like I talked and talked to you. 
With a thousand tongues.

Now I see Fear.

Because with Time

Fear follows.

Will you now listen as you have not listened before.
I speak not of fear of fear, my brothers. 
I speak of fear as you know it.

Time will end our Silence, here we are standing,
up to our knees in Future.
Fear will complete it.
Our own fear will end it

all

 

You gather and hold life in a Hope that has its origin in wishes.Wishes, that "He who writes history" will come. You are counseling with scholars, shouting for a tale that does not end,as you know it does. You have thoughts of an ending that holds good feelings.Feelings which you do not know or understand.Truly I say you, Man gathering in flocks:  Do not look for endings without me.Do not believe in wise men who say that air can not turn into soot. Do not own a single Hope without me. Yes, Listen, Man in flock...Time will come when you will speak with shivering voices and think with Fear. For Hope is confusingly similar to your faith.This I say you. Remember this.

This silent anger.

What is it calledthis Silent AngerAnger without a voicewithout a note.Words and insults are scatteredby the shepherds of ignorance.Their wolves are untamed

they eat the light of the mind.

Moods so heavy that tears can be seen.

So what is it called...This silent anger.

I wash my sins

turn them in lye.

A tray filled with tears

floating over

and to earth they fall.

Like rain.

Running

Like the wind

I turnand see the sun in a crack

shining on the raindrops

falling off my body.

I have washed my sins

to earth they fall

like rain, and like grass they die

Floating thoughtsdrifting hometo safety.Longing for motherLonging for Father.- who calls out for the child.Home is far awaymother is busy.The child cries alone

Today the rain fell

Today the rain felllike a hundred blessingsyeslike seven hundredand I stopped. Looked around meonce more,felttried- Nothing.I felt nothing.I stood outsideme.But I heard.I heard voicesyesseven hundred voicesin the rain.Today the rain fell

The body shatters
in peaces which spreads
where sorrow reign
I see only darkness.

Plagued by the Lord
who smiles
towards the sun
that sets.

It is endured
in the passion of the pain
on the border to death
sits the soul.

The empty absence of loss
longin for past
suits my thought.

The good is forgotten.

He is sitting
defeated.

Neglected by hardness,
and good words are easely forgotten..
- before they came to him.

Tearstrangled and heavy
but without tears
he looks up at me.

The clock are stopped by strangulation
- for time is still by heavy looks.
The Lord lets the world see
these tears wich are running
from the face in pain.

The water sees the blood coming.
Mixed.
The Pure is pure no more.

I do not wish for the Fall of Life
but this is the spring that speaks.
A new summer is coming.

He stands up
without help

from me

Comes shame.

The penance for the defeats of my soul
shall be payed by my absent hand.

I silence shall I suffer
once again.

We take eachother hands
and walk away.

Silent thoughts weight
- heavy and weak words
in forgivness,
we give a concent on peace.

For many times
will I fall.

A new day - welcome.

The pulse is inceasing in raising fog.
Hasty and strange humans with heavy burdens
comes running towards the informer.
They are imprissoned by the same pulse.

The nation is poring out the adrenali.
The guiders of physichs is shouting in
the safety of the gold.

Fat are the winetendrils politics.

Weepingly rises the value of the safe inviroment of the home,
where the childs play on marble is replaced byt The Big Nothing.

The streets become restless
and fear becomes a cup of coffee.
A pause on the battlefield.

It is clear - the view to the clouds
is lusted only by the outcasts.
Women screams,
men is bowing.

Towns, cities and lands turn their keyes,
starts the engines.

It is monday in the world and the fog is gone.

For a while.

Welcome.

Breakingpoint

There...

where I walked
and layed down my past
as well as my future,

is gone now.

I will never forget how I danced
in the winds of the asfalt breeze.
My thoughts and I.

The Sick Human being.

The sick human being lives stormy
but shouts out its needs in silence
and without a tongue.

Day and night is gone.
They wanished with the convulsions,
and only contractions measures time.

The Master of the house`s powers and resistance,
ebbs out in the colorplays of the Fall.
For all is white soon.

Death is no guest.
It is no friend.
It is the tool of the finagler,
a seal without history.

The will to Life does not sits itself down.
It never rest

there
in the bed.

It is the Storm that pushes the leaf to the ground.

The sick human being live life responsible
but without burdens.

And the medecine is fear.

Forgive us this arrogant posture towards Life,
where we,

in our selfexaltated throne

forget to realize,

that we are merly drops in the pond
you made for your Sons tears.

And forgive me
that I am not the revelation full adequate
when I now accuse Man to have molested it self
towards its own nature and origin.

To somebody

Look,
here I walk.

I am crying...

but not anymore.

I am glad
and it is not a dream.

The Angel Speaks.

Chapter 2.

1. Your exits are few and lonely.
The price og redemtion is hunger
and death. Friends are enemies,
and enemies are the prosecutors
weapon.

2. Man, hear my voice. Set roots
in words, undress the cloath of vanity,
turn to Him that hears and let words
come to the rescue.

3. For your days are few,Man.
Look around and you will soon
find no more. Darkness is no longer
treathening. It is resting in your
body. The light wich were lid,
dies out.

4. Brothers like sisters, the
strangling hours have arrived.
Find your flame, and let the oil
of word fill the Jar. For once again
I stand ready.

This I say you.
Do not fear.

The Angel Speach

Chapter 1.

1. I stood before the humans
and shouted. I preached about the world.
The world of humans. No one listened,
no one understood, no one saw me
and there were no one to interpet.
No wise men was left.

2. Listen,human. Do not fear.
I come with a message. A message
on this world. Time is all you have.
Time is all you here.

3. You speak in misty clouds.
Youre words is hollow. No one
can understand the Lord
and his message. I bring water
for repent.

4. Your images is burning.
Memories is forget. Your chase
strangles time for reflection.
Hope is rumours in your hearts.
See,Man and woman. Boy and girl.
Time is everything you posess
and all that you have left.

5. Your rulers is gathering. They whisper
in dark rooms. Planning your thoughts.

6. You cry over lost freedom, when
it was you who led the tyrann to power.
For there, in his seat, he keep records
against you.

8. He is gatherin all the first borns.
Boys and girls, in storehouses.
All is used. Nothing is thrown
away. Only work is their pay now.

9. The Word is stolen from you.
Your house is luted for thoughts.
Your freedom is swept in laws.
Chained you are. Chained to
thousand times thousand of words
in the books of Law.

Waltz of the Whore

Laments fill the empty space

and my soul is mounted

by desire.


This pauseless waltz
shall be the last.


I am lenient with reason

and dishonesty sings...



one two tree
one two tree...