Could you consider how it feels to be wise.

Alley cat in the broken rain
felt so tired
insane again
in grey areas of hermetic scholars,
deep inside the mystic wonder
I’m lost in your fairytales
and can’t understand your problems
of be yonder anymore.
A simple twist of faith
took me to the garden of light,
my pray was short
and without words
although it was written in the book
exactly like this before,
and my companion
had no judgement upon her
like Magdalena
of being a whore
she is a perfect lady
and came from a little place
close to the shore,
rolling, tumbling
drinking and smoking
inside the restrictions,
the social context
you made
for the victims
to work in your dirt factory
you made us poor.

I’m gone that’s for sure
and I paid though
for you to come back home,
I’m trained well
and I have a playful circus now
for a couple of years
to move you away from the spell
my wavelength
goes a bit deeper
than moonbeams and Hollywood dreams,
it was made on the first day
solid and strong
right from the first big bang
to uncountable star reflections
from the heart.

This working man’s blues
used to be playful and gay,
fragile butterfly movements
have no rules
moves with passion
and is bold enough
to tell you that your lost in a labyrinth
of greedy chemical disorder
a hungry ghost
your longing merely flesh,
dissolving
without breath in a sad traffic jam I guess.
Your slick fighting to capture some plastic money
brought you power over a dying grey spot
in the eyes of the cosmic giants.
Deep soul
need nothing at all
can even do without a planet
it needs
but the higher Self to comprehend
and goes beyond borders of life and dead
it holds the universe together in every moment
even you old boy with the red shield
and your bloody sword
and when it is living and loving
in this circle full of trees
it needs sometimes no more than
a natural piece of bread
a plain glass of water
from the conscious river
a voice to sing the songs
and a warm fire and a cave
to play a divine mystery .

What you bring in
comes back to the source,
maybe there are some crocodiles
who prefer the cold
and a brimstone on their forehead.
It looks to me a tiny kick
and I call it pain
and certainly no ecstatic bliss
I know you’re a little bit and you will try to bite
we still know a few stories that couldn’t be twisted
in your restricting trickery
you haven’t got more time
to get your act together.
Do you still think you feel safe inside
your well protected walls
of your unscrupulous ivory towers
are you planning to make more
room outside your dark room?
The same old story again?
young riff-raff on the battlefield
to expend your association?

Maybe it’s time for you
before you get mixed up in the judgement
to be called deaf, dumb and blind
like your father
to overcome some fear in your little kingdom
of electromagnetic spy ware and software slavery
and discover some higher range of possibilities
although you’re not aware of the fact
that you really are a crazy little thing called Love
the energy that could make your water a fine wine
it’s just a natural part of the process to forget,
who you are
and it’s not easy to be honest
about those family affairs,
hope you’ll trust me the heart
forgives everything
when you’re open enough
deep inside.

The world wide underground
took it over here
last year on a very bright morning,
some have told you before
how things go
in the infinite master plan of this planet.
The last turning of the purple rainbow wheel
took place in an eternal moment behind
a golden cloud at this moment
when there is nothing more to say
maybe you will feel it too.

Yesterday I brought the dealer in
and looked him in the eyes
the first preparation
to turn you around
and of course you haven’t got a clue yet
inside your democratic illusion
to busy counting your
manipulation coins all day.

So we kept your sleeping
in a restricted area of time and space
my angels can do that
in a pink robe of orange sunshine
beside their elevating crystals
with your real dream in their hands.

Didn’t you learned those facts
in your political pamphlet
in dark leaves university.

the Dolphin and the ecstatic mirrormachine
dancing in a watermelon mood
giving you a lecture
in free rosemary rhyme 2007-11-24

I told you with open arms
there is no road
although some ways were blocked
through the ages.
So many roadblocks with golden ornaments
in front of our eternal hearts,
there is a whisper somewhere in the cosmic field
it talks about infinity
they told me it’s without borders,
and beyond good and bad.
So strange to sit here in a central heated concrete box
where a providing jungle should be
dear angel with your green mystic eyes
bring us back home
to the garden of song.

So many children are not welcome yet,
every goddamned year again and again.
Who owns this place and why do I have to pay ?

the anointed is inside
the One that you are.

The birth goes on and on!


Butterfly kisses
made me miss it
flower dreams
made us forget
the tree was innocent
didn’t you know
the natural rule
to be honest
and not cruel
everything is part of you
your tortured soul
mixed up the circles
in the sand
the sea was lost
in my helpless hand
and couldn’t reach
it again, we were stranded
between two raging planets
and a dying star,
my dog started laughing
about my complexity
and took me to the park
to hunt some wooden sticks.

My arms are tired but not broken
of throwing sticks and stones
to your digital palace,
your plastic valley
the monetary maze
your disturbing movements
captured the first awoken butterfly
in the electronic web
to suck some blood
to live a bit longer in the dirty mud
not sure about the things you got
behind your anxious masks .

A God is so fragile
it hurts when you penetrate it
with a space shuttle
searching for yourselves.
Didn’t you know !
They were just dreaming
underneath the fruit trees
the infinite Father en Mother
the mindless One.

Come back
to the source the burning heart
your feet back on the ground
and start playing
with the inner sounds
the blissful beat
you have forgotten
it is just a little deeper,
and not an abstraction
of bits and bites
in a drunken mind.

Listen to the lion
roaring with the silence !
The pages like snakes
shedding their skin,
new meanings appearing
in the mystic church
of our eternal dreams.

rob&the Machine on the round table2007-04-30
(it ain’t about the money)



Warlords and other things that look normal
(for the woman with the thousand arms).

The burning bush is telling her
with deep eclectic eyes
that it’s time to walk the crystal water
and share your bread and wine.

The hand came through the wall
and touched her beaten heart
everything felt on it’s place
a graceful song appeared.

Love wasn’t made of matter
and you couldn’t call it gas.

But the dark force
of the lost ones
where so full of longing
for the little things outside
there was no place for divinity
in their neurotic factories
of unnatural duality.

So she had to make a journey
a Goddess became a fugitive for so very long
to keep her pure heart joyful
the road was hard
full of violence and vulnerable bitter tears
she had to run so very far away.

The only place where she could live
and didn’t belong to the powerful thieves
the so called global scam
the company of greed.
Was a dark toxic hole in a neglected dessert
too poor to be useful for the hungry beasts
but she found a little peace.

There she gave birth to a boy and a girl
with purple skin and rainbow coloured eyes
with thousand hands to heal.

The revolution after an evolution
it is always here and Now the eternal knowing
before your sleepy eyes.
You could hear her silence if you listen
to the wild beats
deep inside the breathing
of your faithful meditation.

The books can always be rewritten
in the language of our hearts.

rob&the machine2007-04-30



I want you to be me in total ecstasy,
your bliss will mingle with reality
the existence
my sweet love
it is love
the only one
that will preserve
(for the children who still believe in playing,
that we can be human again with the source in our hearts)

The paint became dry and I was so drunk again
the virgin smiled when I was breathing heavenly
in my great disbelieve,
like a blossoming tree in the dessert of Sion,
naked in my acceptance
of the infinite Love.

It will be nice to believe my words
when I’m so alive
on our giving Earth
the natural process of growing
the Mother knows
about it so very well,
in the mean time
living water sells
rob2006-12-24


I’m waiting for the first Amish homo sexual
to start preaching and was accepted.
I’m waiting for the first lesbian ayatollah
to keep peace for the little boys and girls.

Tonight the Holy Books
fell on their knees before me,
I gave them a French kiss
and forgot about the Bleus.
The sons and daughters
were singing in the Garden again.

HOBO BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH
ON THE FAST TRAIN
WITH A BOTTLE OF BEER
AND SOME SIGARRETES
I HOPE IT'S NOT A GAME
LOOKIN' UP FOR SOME LIQUID FIRE
AND THE LOVING PURPLE RAIN
ONLY THE MOMENT TO UNDERSTAND
ONLY THIS PLACE TO COMPREHEND
I'M STILL SUFFERING
BUT I DON'T LOOSE FAITH
I HOPE I KNOW THAT EVERYTHING
IS STILL PART OF THE HEALING GAME
CHILDREN DANCING ON THE STREET
THE MOTHER MADE US SOME ORANGE TEA
FRUIT ON A PLATE
UNDERNEATH THE BLOOMING TREE
THE WORDS THEY ARE DROWNED IN
PHILOSOPHY
MY HEART IS SINGING A SILENT SONG
I HOPE THAT YOU CAN HEAR IT
WITH THE TREMBLING NOTES AND THE LAZY RHYMES
AND THE RHYTHM WITHOUT A TRACE
rob 2005

Are you talking to me?

Are you ready to become the KINGDOM ??

fuck off, You know I'm God.

is it two ?

bringing old standards back to your blood circulation !

yesterday has passed
tomorrow will be
can you do something about it now!!

everybody must get stoned
is your judgement true when you're looking
in your own eyes, did you have the highest
possible experience or are you hanging there
in oblivian,
behind the smoke
of the wisdom of plants,
a book of dust in your hand,
from a poets longing
in the dessert sand
are you strong enough to stay awake
hope you always trust your cape
and start flying
and please watch out for the heat
of the sun.




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