My façade might look dirty to you

my thoughts inside to dark

~

but you holy man

with your mowed lawns and trimmed thoughts

a fifth column of tyrants disguised  

~

you might find the likes of mine

everywhere and detest

pouring your world of petty resentment

into our rejection

~

you might seem to win

for now

and await the return of the heimat

and 1933

but the young of mind will more than ever

forget your past

you

and deny all of us your hateful gods

~

progress is not just a word

an act

or a wish

it’s something that happens

rolling downhill to a better place

You can blow a lot of air

or take it all in

~

either way

this way

make sure you never choke

on the never settling dust

I feel my free will

but are the wires I pull

stretching out into the world

attached only to what I think is real

~

is freedom not the joy you can have

of fantasizing the world you live in

being a cluster of stardust that can dream

Yesterday I found a switch

that could be turned up or down or all around

when I turned my head in welcome dispair over forgotten choices

I saw in the corner

this dirty old panel with lights and red buttons

symbols I recognize from the day’s before life

seems to have started

staring at it I remember slowly my little fingers hovering over these buttons

feeling for a choice

Sometimes you come across a switch

in life

one you don’t know what it does

and still you get the urge to turn

it up or down

which ever way feels good

I see the timer rests on zero

I forgot

do i still have to set it

or did it just go of

The white edge

of the hill

separates the sunset

from the morning

~

the snow in the shadow

waits patiently

for the edge