Shattered by Klaus J. Gerken Shattered I there's anger in the heart of madness love doesn't exist in foggy weather one may feel but does not see where earth meets water there is scant resistance from the mud but then there is always flood and the bottom line is always cash lives hardly matter where the money flows the railroad of resistance is a nice conundrum it doesn't build itself but argues against those who do emptiness always fills a void no one comprehends of course then there is the vessel coagulated blood is hybrid works like a charm on any roller coaster pretty is as pretty does doesn't matter what you fill the vessel with it all returns to dust II the mess of clutter on the new horizon baking like a dull desire on the heels of a major breakthrough wiping out a universe or two or just a theoretical anangram that makes no sense to human beings lodged in the mud of everyday i'm just hanging around at the corner pick a latitude or longitude but make sure it's not on water or in the crater of an erupting volcano i don't want to be dust or mud too soon i have a few things to do no one will ever know or care about but that's ok it doesn't matter my broken springs are not your bed thorns are fine froma distance and blood's a good drink if you only pretend to drink it after all vampires are a perfect formula for safe collusions water into wine and all that shit III sickness is when the mind can't agree with the body when the harbour of conception is a mudflat of deception no warning signs of quicksand one vanishes without bravado swallowed up without existence where there is nothing there can be only nothing no volumes of philosophy will negate that or explain the unexplainable shadows play in the morning sun and moonglow gives credence to the night howling wolvews of thunder split the silence into waves and these visions of surrender are such a big rave IV the poison does not articulate a set of circumstance it waves no flag no adverticement of sandy beaches paridise enfolds you like a set of arms comforting a child's desire for securty lost all lost in a world where hope renegs with weapons of slaughter and dry passion empty minds worshipping even emptier religions they have given up because the fantacy is better than the life death becomes a lotus land you have to drag them screaming away before they have a chance to kill you and no one sees the truth but only the terror to themselves damage done V the bones dance a rotten tango mill around whore houses and dig up van gogh memorabilia shades abound to hide hollow starstruck eyes and chocolate ears are packaged in a Chinese laundry somewhere in Manhatten rainbows roll like coffee from the tongue and the visions of surrender are way too young VI lord god pray me a false fandango the shades of crayons melt like candy on the parched grass of desire no one parks the revolution no one knows what it is we don't strangle the earth for nothing evolution doesn't have regrets VII a long long time ago when the world was still corn syrup the blue velvet mountains erupted and the echoing thunder roared a caveat emptor over the whole shebang no one listened the deed was done and plastic became a solid form of mummery there appeared a crumpled bombast in the form of parchment with the WRITTEN WORD that could neither be read nor spoken no one spoke it no one read it but a million scholars intepreted it in a million different ways inspiring a million glutinous wars in the thunder of the WORD that can't be spoken VIII i keep waiting waiting for what anything whatever happens whatever won't the raging storm the passive calm death life wisdom most of all wisdom because the world needs wisdom that no one has yet i have no wisdom just another person on a planet hungry with regret IX genius will never have a place in the minds of mediocrities X one is reminded in the skelter helter of the rabble midnight madness frozen abbyss where the silly meets the absess helter skelter everyone capitulates and what is clarity is really hate it's way too late to make amendments to the word of god or god or god whatever name you choose is odd what pretending fools will not regret their own demise wisdom wise or pack of lies does thought even matter in the universe or does it rattle through a witches' curse for the raven steals the pidgeon's egg we for one must not mistake the samouri for chivalri a code of honour is a fools desire serving others without thought of fiction leave it all to life's restriction we fight with leaves of argument with premices we comrprehend yet ultimately we are what we cannot comprehend not the physical but thought itself self awareness being here in the shelter of the earth XI what evolves is what evolves we cannot change the cycle we are they cycle just as a traveller from the past cannot change the future because he has become the past XII my madness does not presuppose that i am mad i am mad because i believe i am sane no one knows the difference XIII Let poets be poets; let me be me! XIV Every time a weapon is used to kill people, the manufacturer should be charged and convicted as an accomplice to murder. XV They use western technology to destroy western culture and the west hasn't a clue what to do about it! XVI the voice only thunders in the wilderness because the wilderness is too quiet the voice whispers in the city because the city is too loud both reveal a level that humans fail to conquer both obscure the truth of an enlightenment we are elephants without shadows searching for an answer but the answer does not come since we are constantly searching for a question in the city's wilderness XVII the core does not understand the core because it is the core but because it is the core no understanding of the core is necessary what exists exists and does not need to be explained only theories and hypotheses need to be explained what is is what is not is not what we do not know we explain without resolution XVIII Prostitution isn't the oldest profession, religion is. XIX religion is the biggest con game ever perpetrated on the human species XX i am grounded in the past because i can't understand the present there is little hope for me let me be kjg may 2015 * Copyright (c) 2015 by Klaus J. Gerken Published by Ygdrasil Press