FOLLOWING YESTERDAY'S PLANS
In any case, you feel that on alternate days, when you fail, because you can neither reach the top nor reach the petty and empty standard of more livable lives, like someone who reached into an eagle's nest with feigned indifference, and there an unruly eaglet bit his finger at will. Your fluffy clouds would still call you from afar, where else to go, and while your goals and plans are running aground, you start long pilgrimages - even -, unconsciously, who could you turn to? Where are you going?!
The light that once started to spawn became a shadow in the waterfall of your Beloved's hair, which you admired so much that you couldn't admit how much a hug, a true gesture in romantic sunsets, meant to him. - because you would hardly be able to come up with anything else: connection, interest, protection are fashionable, it will certainly be quite difficult to surpass this - these days -. And while you would stack the LEGO building blocks in yourse...
FISHERMEN OF THE SEA
Men on a boat
The drift and the float
Looking for a fish
Serving as a Dinner Dish
Focus is the Fishing Rod
Adding the Bait
Hope for a catch
Suddenly a bite
Reeling in the Fishing Rod
Pull after pull
First catch of the day
Same procedure again
Fish catch reel in
Fishermen in their catch
Maneuvering boat back to shore
A fishing meal for sure.
...
WRITER’S CLUB
Hello, we are words that welcome you
A new place in a new day
Refreshing thoughts
Encouraging vibes
This is where Poets and Writer’s come together and unite
Connecting ideas and theories
Tomorrow’s insights with today’s agenda’s
Writing in all blends
Inspiration has no end
Sunrises and sunsets that are continuation
Writing being the inner sensation
What mind thought strives in creation
Everyone a member of their own dreams and imaginations
What can be an idea can be written
Dazzle here and a sparkle there
What does writing tomorrow look like?
Explore and find out
Word flow
You in the know
Just let go
Weather the mind storms
Overcome the writing fright
Perfect opportunity through darkness into light
Embrace in the writing craft
Got your attention finally at last
Writing club
Your w...
Confidential, dependent attempt
In this rare autumn leaf rain, the last burst of flame of the still bubbly, rust-marta summer seems to be gently straining at the memory filled with pleasure. The soul happily forgets itself again, while the simple mortality of the natural landscape can be lost among the magnificently superstitious golden storm leaves. Things and objects can be simplified when stripped down to the bare bones, because they can become the same. With sharp, crystal-clear lights, the gentle detail is arranged just like the easy soul migration of the Universe.
Fragrance and holiday, humble silence, in which even discipline stares blindly in front of itself on an indifferent, dim morning. The invisible elf-glow mercilessly fills the memories of the past and the speeding loops of time. Now everyone moves in the same One-Essence, rushes forward, and makes repayments. Halfway into the creative romance, the childish illusion and the naive imagination playing with the soul colli...
WAS IT WORTH IT?!
Like goblins woken up from their sleep, I squirm in the alley light during the day. I wonder: Did I make a mistake when I studied, acted, complimented - as I could read in many literary works, and quite a few highland diva-dame ladies failed. Disappeared dream ship goals, plans, alas, where have you sunk?!
Like the hurriedly pursued fugitives, it follows season after season, day after day, while the sure consciousness of mortality grows ever greater. Are all good intentions cursed?! I turn inward - not only when I shake the shackles of my battered past, but also when misplaced friendly words and gestures start to turn into dust in my complex present.
All bargaining is in vain! Human laws are rarely, if ever, faithfully followed. - In the Sisyphus maze of brainstorming, the propaganda pressure has thickened, just like the marcona force of the throats shouting at each other, which does not lead its wild beasts forward, and while - it may seem - the...
NECESSARY BUT DIFFICULT
The false serpents of modern Ages draw ever closer; don't look back The avant-garde-provocative workshops of the creative spirits are no longer pushing forbidden and taboo things in vain. It was as if Mephistopheles had betrayed himself, just like most of the celeb icons who were made from actor-seedlings. I wonder who will be able to stand before their Doom, what will they confess?!
What were they really like? If only the Good could see all the other false, compromising schemers, who willingly put other people's lives on the line, just to escape prosecution for good; I wonder where the essential, happier trust could have gone? It would be nice to know whether petty, smutty promises have any chance at any time, so that the latent childish curiosity that has been buried in false hearts will ever come true.
There are no more role models or legends, the Underworld and Passing are all the more unexpected and sudden. - Rushing and manipulative interest: that&#...
CROSS-HEARING IN D MINOR
When one day he will make his way to the other shores, not only the wanderer or the strange news-teller who, like the silent and taciturn Zarathustra, hides himself from the hurtful noise of the World in the caves of the Kongo fog mountains; he prefers to keep his preaching of moral and humane admonitions to himself. Down there, the modern-mass people are being herded by increasingly giggling pig-like bipeds. Of course, it is better if the prophets and hypocrites return to the often irritating realm of Silence.
The bloated, bloated, hamstring sumo body of free will could have started to disintegrate long ago in slimy slug mode. It is becoming more and more difficult to stay on your feet on the paths of neck-breaking, shameful roads. Only the inner nerve endings - if they twitch, they are suffocated by the helpless inaction combined with indifferent numbness. With dreamy, often drugged eyes, Man looks around in his surroundings and often cannot even underst...
YEAR BUS
First, Greyhound name to be through a soap box race
Speed with a chase
Bus company would soon get a name
Two Pioneers, Anderson and Wickman
A vision for the Greyhound Bus Company to be
Suddenly an idea hit, the Greyhound Lines, Inc. was the fit
1914, Greyhound Bus Company became genuine
Anderson and Wickman mind
Operation set up
Transcontinental that was finally known
The Greyhound bus name that was fully blown
Major cities to towns
Flagging and Satellite Commission Stops
Greyhound bus was in full swing
The racing Hound Dog did the thing
Greyhound Corporation took aim<...
RE-EDUCATION
The world spoils you in embarrassing filth. Dirty-obscure agreements, dubious-value, sleazy bargains sway like drunken criminals from one person to another. Even now, the wild animals exterminate each other like beasts, while the exotic beauties and fitness queens keep a self-pitying competition diet as the calvary of their voluntary calvary. And down there, we are surely devoured by the uncertainty of existence, the power of our consciously selfish, stunted ego.
Outside, piled up in seas of bales, the shipwrecked trash floats on the old foam of the Danube. Ash rain falls from a red-gray sky. Skean head muscle larks are shouting demanding who is the bigger king? Drunks still swaying from one corner to the other with beet-red faces. On TV: you can see endlessly retouched halogen zombie images of happy-go-lucky, chattering party queens. I am far away from home, the ambulance-siren screams as it transports one dead person to the hopeless walls of chaos-hospit...
FROM WILL TO MAN
Again cheap Jack, or a petty, manipulative snitch of fashion-trend monkeys; even though it is in vain that the shriveled corduroy fashion calls to Paris, Dubai, or America. It may seem that the age-necessity of the age is more and more the idiocy of jerks, while the enthusiastic autodidacts only gnaw their nails like rodents. Now the outside has turned into a delicate man-cave, while the storm-battered Spirit: a wanderer, a restless vagabond.
It would be nice if at least a few more sensible thinkers could turn the wretched, exhibitionist optics at a three hundred and sixty-five degree angle, with which - often - they spy on the exotic curves of attractive supermodels rather than trying to measure sparkling intelligence. Even so, the World unfairly excludes more and more from itself, pushes it away - everything is only the perspective of everything; the embarrassing compulsion of reflexes, that between two chasms the sure No Man's Land waits impatiently...