They took my songs
They took my books
Tried to steal my dreams
To make me like them
But they missed a fragment
Barely a seedling
And left the earth
A fertile foundation
For a new imagination
Nation
I watered it and let it grow
Let it go
And now I know
It is beautiful
And beyond their corporate control

The night whispers
Things the stars told them
Lines of truth to sound like ink
And stolen murmers, he didn't think
That, for all their wisdom, stars
Have wild mischief in their hearts
And oh, the things they make you dream
But still, all things I'm glad I've seen
But night soon grows too weary and old
And the stars fade in shining gold
Before night can tell me what he's told
From the stars who live so silver-bright
And so good morning, and goodnight

Once in my Universe
All the things were
Missed

I was Created
By God's Will
Forth intact

Fulfiled with an innocent fleur
I Created Playful
Bountiful Place

All the joys and sorrows
Were Missed

There was The
Abundance

There was a light laughter
Of ignorance
Of hardly recognizible indifference
Of not knowing Poles are Axed
Of vague rememberance
Of  
Which is          Arctica
Which is          Antarctica
And how to go there                                  Magic W. . . .
Yet I had a technicue to reach a central core of Divinity
Yet I've heard about Shangrila and
Yeti
&
Yaks portruding with knited chimes
With wide reasonable heads watching
Extremly enchanting Dragons floating
Effortelessly alluring to the beholder's
Navigation
By The Cloud
By The Thunder
By Resonance
By Imagination
       Coming True
  The Child
Butterflies were landing on my arms
And I was a Mighty Director
Of my Dreamland  Dying
With every second
Not knowing

they were
cape town passengers

and fated
wide eyed dreamers

who turned to
tongue tied lovers

back to
brown eyed strangers

Darling I'm not the same as I was back then,
I thought comets and stars were things in the sky
Until I looked around one day to find
That they're in as many people
As they are in my mind

No one is really ever the same, you see
Everything changes you and me
Every thought and action we do will lead
Into another alternate reality.

What if we turned left instead of right that one day?
Would we have met with early demise?
Or would we have gotten that job we had hoped to find?

See these are the things that are constantly on my mind
For I can't help but contemplate how the stars align
To bring us closer together or further apart
Or weather or not you see someone's true heart.

I guess it's a difficult concept for some to grasp
I mean even I am having a momentary lapse of reason

I guess that's just part of being human
Thinking about what's bigger about us
Or what could bring our downfall

So many of us just sit and contemplate what it means to be in this body
And the longer we think about it the more uncomfortable we become with ourselves

Because with how our world works if you're not a size zero through nine you're not worth the time of the males searching for mates.

Or if the muscles in your stomach don't look like a six-pack then you're not a very good looking male in the first place.

But if you sit and think about how to make this world crumble
You'll see how everyone thinks they're nothing.
But if you tell a girl or guy they're made of stardust and clear skies
They'll laugh and call you a dreamer.

Maybe I am,
Or maybe that's what poets are
Dreamers who think the world is pretty terrible
So they string lines together to create a scenario to help others see the bigger picture

That everyone is made from stardust.
That everyone is beautiful.

Hope was selling
dreams to the hermits
on the street.
Empty stars filled the carts
paying a price that was too
high.
In debt they left
and came back broke with
butterflies in their dusty pockets
and moon kissed smiles upon their frowns.

Aspiring the rocky dust of crushed stars,
feeling high, feeling new
shooting up, falling down-
A shower of meteors lighting up across the horizon.
Crashing the earth's crust,
addicts for another fix.

Dreamers stealing the stars,
tasting paradise for a little while.

America,
Violent are your "peace bringing ways,"
Soiled are your oily lakes and dumps of "cleanliness,"
Tattered your past, your pox blankets you shared
With the Tribes, filling their lives with "blessedness"
Boring are your churches of "joy and eternal bliss,"
Poor are your "satisfied costumers" hopeless days,
Pride goeth before a fall, and yours shall
Be it's own undoing with your stubborn ways.