|
|
Internationale Gedichte Sämtliche nicht-deutschsprachige Gedichte. |
|
Themen-Optionen | Thema durchsuchen |
07.03.2018, 11:53 | #1 |
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. Geändert von Landstreicher (07.03.2018 um 20:42 Uhr) |
|
07.03.2018, 11:57 | #2 |
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. Geändert von Landstreicher (07.03.2018 um 20:35 Uhr) |
|
07.03.2018, 13:01 | #3 |
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 darkes 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. Ist 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 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. Geändert von Landstreicher (07.03.2018 um 20:37 Uhr) |
|
07.03.2018, 13:17 | #4 |
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 mediterraneens 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 dreamworld of 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 extase. 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 extatic 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 for sinners the hardest thing to do in order to get right into paradis. ************************************************** ******* Written in the early morning hours the 20th of February 2018 in some spanish town with thaks to all my angels and my inspirations Tom the Waiter The Boored Think Boyd and T. S. Oiled * Geändert von Landstreicher (07.03.2018 um 20:39 Uhr) |
|
08.03.2018, 12:34 | #5 |
Hallo,
tut mir leid da ich OFWohnsitz und im anderen Inland bin und kaum Geld, keine elektrischen Dinge oder Geduld habe um im callcenter zu arbeiten, haben sich hier ein paar kleine Fehler halten koennen die ich nun nichmehr ausbessern kann. Eine verbesserte Version findet sich im esotherikforum.at Lieber Gruesse * |
|
Lesezeichen für Time Master |
|
Ähnliche Themen | ||||
Thema | Autor | Forum | Antworten | Letzter Beitrag |
In/time | Comae Berenices | Philosophisches und Nachdenkliches | 19 | 04.06.2016 20:04 |
master | dasich | Internationale Gedichte | 1 | 28.01.2016 16:39 |
Master of Depression | muux | Düstere Welten und Abgründiges | 0 | 09.09.2015 01:50 |
Once upon a time | Kleine Goethe | Liebe, Romantik und Leidenschaft | 2 | 22.03.2014 10:27 |
Your time has come | Don´t know | Eigene Liedtexte | 0 | 01.04.2006 19:31 |