I am not a prophet
A fading Rocket.
Just surfing on the morning sun.
I am a simple Being.
Trying to keep my soul clean.
Letting my time just run.
The lost falcon.
Gone to roam the mountain.
A new home to be found.
Mind the trees.
Green framed by blue does please.
Feet still firmly planted in the ground.
Heart beats to a running stream.
No fear in the dream.
Watch the milky way light up the sky.
Not as patient as a stone.
When truth cuts to the bone.
I’d rather not see my friends fail but fly.
© Deon Heemskerk 30-6-2012
Through the granite gates and onto the range.
Frosty foggy mornings, so beautiful and strange.
River runs to kookaburra laughter.
Free from the strain of the mining plunder.
Willow dips its finger tips into the cool flow.
The white body forest waits for the eastern glow.
The land where the sun meets the crystals in the sky.
No clearer site, tear forms as a cool breeze hits the eye.
Beautiful fresh air, sunlight highlights the Sheoak’s hair.
Birds play in the morning sun, like your not even there.
More days like these please, a world growing rarity.
© Deon Heemskerk 29-6-2012
In my early twenties, I thought success was gauged on what things you had got.
Then I witnessed many lose everything, on their way to the top.
I also witnessed others implode as they fell short of their goals.
Many met with depression, with their thirtieth birthday the hammer blow.
The ones I find truly successful, the ones that are happy in life.
Passion they follow, skipping clear of inner strife.
Their job becomes irrelevant, just a means to pay a few bills.
Time and age less important, just standing strong like the hills.
Not looking for substance or scenarios to escape.
Not bound to material objects to fill a void, they have cut the tape.
Masters of happiness, nothing polished or fake.
The subtleties of life have more to offer, than a profit gaining corporate.
prioritize your life, find out what you really want.
© Deon Heemkserk 28-6-2012
Her breath creates a fog that floats out into the air.
Tiny sparkling crystals form at the end of her hair.
Willow bark shines like its varnish covered.
Weeds turned beautiful, with this winter white they are smothered.
Spider webs make cold rope thrown all along the road.
Thick is the frost that has settled, they bend to take the load.
Her eyes ski across the icy fields as she takes in the view.
The sun delivers a delicious meal, the blue sky so easy to chew.
Reflections of a cool mountain morning, a beautiful day to come.
Winter in full swing now and she is happy to let it run.
© Deon Heemskerk 27-6-2012
His heart beats with cluttered thoughts.
With himself his greatest enemy, he has fought.
Collateral damage, those that he love.
Fatigued body and a well-worn glove.
Mole hills that look like mountains, get in his way.
He forgets that in that kiss, longer he should have stayed.
A cut rose with out water left to wilt.
Smokescreen talk with a burning guilt.
The longer left, time the destructor.
Each second passed an axe wielding conductor.
It chops the wood that adds to the fire.
Truth talking, the only water for the one he desires.
© Deon Heemskerk 22-6-2012
Mr negative life
A token greeting with no feeling behind it.
Take the negative or focus on the fact your trying.
Your sarcasm weighs heavy on your breath.
Almost like you have something you need to get off your chest.
Or is it just the abrasive salt of your suffering.
Grinding away on your insides, behind your insults you are hiding.
Your past torments follow you like a bad smell.
The collection of karma you wear so well.
This heavy trench coat you drag through life.
Compounding interest, heavy with strife.
My optimism bounces off, you have an impenetrable oily layer.
Some how you take my optimism, twist it and return it much graver.
I have never met anyone else with such a bitter outlook.
Have you ever taken on someone elses opinion? Or expended your knowledge with a book?
To think when I was young I valued your opinion.
Now I have a taste for growth and a lifting freedom.
Free from the worry of what you think of me.
I express my self and I don’t care who sees.
You sit in your shed stewing on your poison rot.
Fewer and fewer ears visit these days, to listen to what your got.
© Deon Heemskerk 20-6-2012
The rolling energy in the sky, dips its finger tips into the ocean.
Lightning bolts of reality, hit home with light and commotion.
The earths belly rumbles and groans, sending shock waves through the ground.
Energy flow moving soil and mountain, source not to be found.
Split her open and let her bleed, just for person gain.
Global earth brutality, our green home in pain.
Dogs sence an angry earth, we have lost touch with our past.
Evolution has made us masters, if we can last.
© Deon Heemskerk 18-6-2012