ON ROSECOVERED SNARES` PATH
Weedbundles to catch
Nettles to eat
Blindfolds to carry
Walls to bury
Life to sort
In drunken swagger after slightest right to hold loved
sifts the funny farms steadily for what is most sane
while the scum lie absent-minded with a red apple in the mug
Un-astute unwieldy ― Wretched,
grubbing in exchangable Nothing,
turns around,
not unlike stinking and staring cows
And hardships small bread crumbs look good in darkness’ corner
while the very finest scum oink away to their babble songs
Retards demand to equal eachother to live furthest down
in clutching after cheap thought-jewelry and life-pettiness
Misgrowth is dug up ideals: Meaningless crass experiences
But, unclean will remain being Gladness’ most rare guests
Weedbundles to throw
Nettles to grow
Blinfolds to burn
Walls to build
Life to sort
WINDSIDES
Living merely in my autumn leaves, watercourses and clouds,
like a kissed harvest pulled by longings silenced promises
and as unwillingly begged, hard nightflowered and teared
The forest sun-striated (Dreamed in Life’s Windsnare)
meanwhile the raining leaned in slowly, hesitent steps
(Watching melting, hectically dripping under springsun’s might)
In stonelee will soon the violets be placed harrowed here again
and then fade, shyly slouch, under the night-time’s journey
(Enough about that.)
Stepping up a daily route and got beautiful together with dawning
and when later the rain carefully fell asleep weary beside the evening
down under raking forest tree tops underneath the greyspeckled skies
was springs-ground seen turning home to barrenly (and slowly) drink thaw
Gazing miles wide around over the halfway snow stained mounds
where furrowed fields stood silent as frozen, stopped sea waves,
while the Winds hit, took headway from all four sides, then suddenly!:
At precisely the right time beams from the Sun broke in over the district
The springtender light lit carefully (Warmed the last years grass)
and little shadows flickered themselves quickly over creek and river
I have eye-caressed the pinebedded grounds fairest days
before nocturnal fog arose around tender forestshadows
Beneath rainpines’ dripping greeted my sight modest flowering,
together with the rain teared down with most broken branches
Indulgent crop on sweet forest ploughed strips, stay here.
WILD STRAWBERRY FLOWERS
GROUNDED II
EMBERS
ULTIMATUM
O!
You so easily bought, mightless and tarned,
trapped scabby with the loss of lust caught,
fully emptied of rights: Necessarily trashed!
You…
You! Forgotten remaining in a worn and fouled
You! Eyetiredly drowned in permanent quicksand
You tracelessly left to be helpless,
you filthy weak and meek, listen up a while!
Long enough has wished for been searched down in unwanted
while illusions has been emptied of gladness
where false found thought-worthy qualm unthought thought
and exertedly spilled its power on the pitiful needs
Only misanthropists can love what our world has become
while deprived and crushed promises been mortarized
for the weed itself has scuffled in thirst after our blood,
around, and down, at the poisoned well’s places
And few wish little more than to qualify as wretch…
It is me anyway so bitingly bitter to break
with ripped apart society’s broken
where the crippled and dizzy demand Life to crippled be
Hardly.
BEAUTY IS OUR HIGHEST INTELLIGENCE
IN NIGHT FROST DRAUGHT
Hidden in my last winter abode came Death
alike a frail and excusing crying mourner
and sat down in apprehension, in whispering:
Searched here for Life itself to befriend,
in the wounded, in your lone dying
We are left here, a shadowfree storm,
holding our rugged words against darkness,
pressing the nights hours; teaching us coldness
(Got dragged here through the lands inside darkness
Carried over all the time distances, stones and ices)
And cold has just my fairness in its word,
while emptiness,
has its emptiness stuck in the Weave












