The man with the white blanket chases me down this early corridor.
His fingers cover my eyes,
only can i focus on the floor.
This ant track fixes my direction,
nose tasting the fresh breeze.
Mystical twisted tree revealed for a second,
just in view for a tease.
Its arms pointed skyward,
as if reaching and pulling the energy down from above.
Long he has seen the passing of the ants and gives them the breath of his love.
© Deon Heemskerk 29-12-2012
In the stillness of the summer afternoon.
Cool bubbling river plays a refreshing tune.
In this cool body we lay.
Low, like animals hiding from their prey.
Out on the plane , birds hang armpits wide.
Their sails catching no breeze, heat rising in a shimmering tide.
Shade the highest commodity, in the dust pounded field.
Only the cruel burning sun it is set to yield.
The sheoks on the river, have the last laugh at the gums on the plane.
This country is screaming out, for some sweet summer rain.
© Deon Heemskerk 21-12-12
The quietest night.
Insect footsteps nearly echo.
All is quiet, except my mind.
Still busy, hurried footsteps in my brains hallways.
Shuffling thoughts, reminders and schedules.
The inner peak hour, almost inescapable.
Cars bustling in all directions.
They keep on moving without me driving.
Is it that time already?
Kookaburra laughs at my lack of sleep.
© Deon Heemskerk 18-12-2012
I saw time disappear,
with the merging of gravity, water and shale.
Over the edge,
the great serpent dangled its tail.
The great pounding of the tail,
sent wet dust into the air.
The lady of this green forest,
catching it in her hair.
Chaos bubbles like a cauldron,
in the bottom of this old wound.
Echoing through the valley,
is this thunderous tune.
Life gathers here,
the energy feeds the forest’s might.
The sun sparkles on the water,
just as the moon does at night.
© Deon Heemskerk 17-12-2012
Dreams float in clouds and on the rivers that we live by.
They pass along beams of light and up into the sky.
When the clouds get heavy, they float down like snow.
Into little open hands waiting for them on the ground.
Just a little seed of thought, creative in its nature.
Pure little piece of energy, possibilities endless, anytime adventure.
© Deon Heemskerk 5-12-2012
An open mouth,
words to be given.
No lessons learn’t,
because no one listens.
Pain creates attention,
but i don’t know why.
I do know the pain,
that’s created by a lie.
The dark manufactured truth,
that sells so quickly.
So often ignorance,
grossly mutated reality.
Why is it kind words,
many can’t muster.
The darker the story,
the more it their master.
Positivity is slower,
but along the grapevine can grow.
Filter out through the spider web,
of the people that you know.
© Deon Heemskerk 4-12-2012