Broken flowers
plastering the ceiling

Open towers
Cradling the feeling

Acid showers
Shielding the reeling

Glorious

The glory of the nineties, the end of the century brought home tulips in white. Electricity was the color of the sun. The oldest living city breathing air and fresh energy into my soul. That night I cried 72.8% water, the curtains looked grey. I thought it was the ascent of man, the dawn of the species. How wrong I was. How right she was. The fall looked like a flash in the sky. The centenary of fireworks. An indication of the end, the downfall. The purpose defeated, the moment gone. Now the moment sits in the real stance. If only I could predict tragedy. The birth and death of the last first one. The last man standing wearing a clone's hat standing in disruption mode. The awe and the wonder of the hands in my pocket, all I wanted was to try to stay and build placards that read "what if?".

Resolve, dissolve, try, delete, escape somewhere closer to your heart.

Aftermath

The word is out
Temporarily we hang about
Holding onto little threads
Sleeping at night in our little beds

Thinking in circles and squares
Hoping to circus about in pairs.

We are nothing
Drowning, suffering.
We are the dance
Natures only chance.

God’s lost gifts fighting in threes
Honey and lost money bees
Sulphur’s sheen
Wound up in a live machine

Thinking in zeroes and ones
Hoping to become sixty tonnes.

Slow

Slowly, slowly the clocks hands move
A mutiny in my head
The heart resides in one of the many limbs
Hiding in the shed

Looking up at the sky and the sun
The sameness is different now
The clouds form no shape
In my elitist brow

Change, again

And to think I could make plans in my life.
Its all left to the hands of impermanence. The hundredhands of God as He works his way through the traffic and insignificance of human life.
Our future lies in the sink, the age of aquarius brings us closer to what we think, tsunami's in ink...
Man is now being shown his true size.
After a very dark patch, I am slowly recovering from what might be the worst I have ever experienced. This is for me to know. There is not much to be said of what happened between 260111 and 110211. It was all like a mystics dream gone wrong. I will start documenting my recovery now. The past has nothing to do with me. Just traces of memory waiting for cosmic reboot. So, here I will begin again...
My physical hinterland is a failure. Time for the metaphysical Hinterland to come into action. Begin.