The man in the moon is smiling at me again;
His full disc face and his icy grin.
A cool mint breeze chicken skins my surface.
Comes deep from the winters lungs with a freezing purpose.
All summer i yearned for the flames of the soul rising fire.
Now my wood is all burn’t, and extinguished all my desire.
My longest days seem to have approached in the shortest one.
If sleep was my steak, it would be well underdone.
Now we have dug our selves to the bottom of winters hole.
At least we are looking up,
with still a long way to go.
© Deon Heemskerk 2013
The blood vessels in my eyes bleed.
On the highway to your heart they feed.
Silicon in these stones, wash the skin from my hands.
Water shifts the particles of sand.
Gravity pulls the flow of the river.
Memory of that dawn sinks deeper.
All the birds seem to flying in the same direction.
Infected by the love of the sun, in this frozen section.
Todays mist dances with yesterdays dust.
Even the fox in your eyes, i trust.
© Deon Heemskerk 2013
Here the water is manipulated into streets.
The air is thick with humidity and greed.
Looking good is a price tag,
attached to a brand,
attached to a shirt,
attached to some manipulated or enhanced body part.
It becomes difficult to see if the advertisement and the person are apart.
Here all hope swings from a pole,
as less is more in lust tourism.
Where souls are lost in glazed eyes,
looking for the top of their gold prism.
Simple manners discarded,
as the consumerism saturates with the rising people tide.
Come see what?
Where all humanities worst traits come to hide?
Fermenting in bloated pride and selfishness,
Giving it the right environment to breed.
© Deon Heemskerk
The subtle breeze surfed in on a gust.
Somehow under the shelter of the hill,
it loss all the fuss.
Mellowed out and danced through the trees.
Kissed the cheeks of the witnesses,
brought a slight buzz of the bees.
Crows of the distance,
whinge of the winds punch.
It unsettles their search,
for some lonesome scavenging lunch.
They know not of the bliss pocket,
only encountering a sweet breeze.
Whispering gently in my ear,
till the stars grow above the trees.
© Deon Heemskerk 1-2-2013
Standing on the rocks so tough,
surrounded by the green marshmallow tuft.
Sits our home in a sweet peach draft.
In our hearts this land leaves its mark.
Not for our wallets or financial gain.
We come to this magic place to escape the strain.
To incorporate with our surrounds and each other.
Some like their barking neighbors,
but i find the birds much nicer.
Trickles of time spent in the garden of this afternoon.
Not wanting to put down this bliss any time soon.
© Deon Heemskerk 29-1-2013
My mind rose from the guilt edged fog of the valley.
Spirits blocking the truths that lay waiting.
Homeward bound truths of life and death.
My own self responsibilities , some how to be met.
does my feet as they lay down this track.
Sweet intoxicating birds song, reminds me of the sobering fact.
Fall he did,
leaves floating down in the summer breeze.
pulling the water serpent downstream.
Isolated flowers floating on the surface.
Smile dipped memories, that reconstruct his face.
© Deon Heemskerk 24-1-2013
I shook hands with this liquid,
not my tears.
Sitting quietly like a rabbit,
absorbing the world through my ears.
People here speak in mountain tongue,
slow but chattery.
Like the splash of the river,
how the McDonald runs.
Strength in the granite stone,
unyielding and refusing to wear.
Pound into soil,
but still will not tear.
Valley moving into an afternoon haze.
Clouds kiss the mountains,
and this valley caresses the range.
© Deon Heemskerk 18-1-2013