the orange flames are balling. . . the heat is forming. . . it’s good to be a live!


the sun will soon be up i guess;

not for long it’ll soon be yellow and red,

yonder the orange flames are balling

i feel the heat on my back,

Alas! dawn has awaken!

bare feet, in wet

i do care for the weeds sticking cold on my skin; but for my bread i’ll stay.

i am up again;

the morning dew wets my feet,

sticking cold pollen on my skin.

i give no care for i am sunking-deep

into the garden soil.

tho soil is cold;

and the weeds are dripping wet.

my limbs limbs are now icy and tough.

i care to be bare-feet-frozen and wet;

but for a plate on my table i won’t rest.


jigs in a puzzle

just be, let the puzzle play out a shape. 🙂

Enough with the whining,
All are random jigs in a puzzle.
They fit, in coherence unknown to the world.
Just be.
The jigs in a puzzle will fit.

∴ ∴ ∴ ∴  ∴ ∴   ∴ ∴  ∴ ∴

I’m filling my jig pieces bit by bit, and soon my puzzle ’ll be done.
I won’t be in this rust ruts anymore; see the odds are against me but I’ve to challenge myself because I need to live my dream.
I have a vision.

drunken murmurs

so why shove me off the road and hen plunge into you grave? 🙂

At day time you shove me from a road, 
that was mine when the moon controlled my universe.
Tell the taxi driver and                                                                                                                                 the bellied men in the big cars Continue reading “drunken murmurs”