VIII More Leaves of....



VIII MORE LEAVES OF...

Hurry, love, they are withering away
And our thin line is dead, it has gone viral
The shadows are longer and ancient dark
It will come, for black covers all notes

Leaves of the tree
For the healing, the place of light
In-between defined, not defined
Enoch has walked with God
Among the trees of the garden
Under the light in the park
We were taken to Hesperia
”The illness of youth spent
And gone away, to come back again”
For years I tried to have it, somehow it was
Almost there for us, but I’ve been too ill
To have it like them, and we could see
The feelings of worthlessness
Visiting the dreamlike atmospheres
Of Aurora and giving up

Baby, I could not sleep at all
I couldn't sleep because of the pain
May the living or dead Masters help

Still at the Night Café
And the more hearts are streaming
The more these cups will turn over
”You've been in a lot of trouble,
And nothing or no one could...”

Take a leave of abs(tin)ence
The whole year with no porn
A week with no coffee-like-script
Written on a painted landscape
For the Spirit in man, the higher worlds
Of poetry and sounds (A,B,C...)

The letters on a leaf, the plant
Green and brownish, or even grey
The branches are still there
It's a fallen world for a falling man
Read the mystical book of Adam
(To Enoch and Abraham)



Rest under this tree
The patriarch said to the guests
With friends like them, who know(s)
The shadow of your self, the nightside
And the Night Man (in holier poems)
”If the spirit is willing, or the flesh”
Every chalice of the Wrath of God
Waiting for this world in the end
Let the cups of our hearts be filled

Three seeds were given to the third son
And it grew on the father's grave
Flaming with words, and the Cherub
Or the archangel guarding 
There, at the frontier

Heavenly rings and a bridge, the rod changing
To the gates, Royal Cavalry will be needed...
The same wood on the cross of your burdens
There is great wisdom in making a fool [of etc]
No mistake, it usually is quite something else
Than what we expected, moving on within out
Where leaves withered untitled and unofficial

”And who kept your thoughts 
Lined with the streets”
Even after all this yearning, 
Praying to be a watcher
One had to see them fall to places 
That are not healthy
”How the Old French words were 
Innocent and pure”
Who has taken the writers, 
Given them a chance, a reading
All of these flowers, from the Medieval 
Good (flor) to the Modern evil (fleur), 
Known the real state of things

It's a miracle that we're still here, being
And what we hope for, who will get it
Not us, but the ones after us
God, I tried to have it

No VII dreams would ever wait [7] in purple
And many of the songs were not redeemed
For the nights to come, the years



”But the pain has been with me too long;
Please, take this pain away, I have to ask”
Remind me of the water in our shoes again
How to see ourselves in the mirror of thinking
If memories have been melted, 
It's not just a walk in the city, 
Through the park, and my old street
Riverlike, a hundred flows reflecting
Pictures and things like our houses
The Light within, the Name(s)
X.X.X.X. / Der Angstweg

Written on the 29th - 31st of July, 2016

To the garden the world anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, 
Meaning and being, curious here behold 
My resurrection after slumber,
The revolving cycles in their wide sweep
Having brought me again,
Amorous, mature, all beautiful to me, 
All wondrous, my limbs and the quivering 
Fire that ever plays through them,
For reasons, most wondrous,
Existing I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present, content with the past,
By my side or back of me Eve following,
Or in front, and I following her just the same.


-Walt Whitman / To the Garden the World