Drunk

Tomorow is far away
My legs truckled to gravitation
With all women I want to play
And punish darkness on the plantations
Filled with dizziness hurting my head
Complaint´s sweat is peering in the future tray
But the feeling of the previous enjoyment
Is all about the life´s sled
The sense of quality or tasty sauce
Is spreading all over my body
Joy of capturing the night´s gloss
Is hunting my liver into underground caddy
Directions are switching in front of my eyes
I am capable to shoot my way home
Or somewhere else it also would be nice
My head is one lifetime surrounding poem.

The Lady And The Moon

So familiar, have I seen her before,
the eye in the sky, she captivates.
Embracing Gods reflection every night,
just for darkness, she waits.


In darkness she stands out bright,
and in light shes on the other side.
A new shape every night she takes,
to then suddenly disappear one night.


She holds up like a mirror in the sky,
reminding me of my body and my mind.
So far away, yet I feel her breathing,
just as though I would, when combined.


Up and down as though for eternity,
Working her way through the logical.
She holds the secrets of the tides,
secrets of murder with a gilded sickle.


Systematically drifting over every terrain,
reproducing dates and facts and figures.
Part of her body has never seen the light,
left for imagination, soft as whispers.