Painter: so calm, brings peace to my mind.
Master of brushes, paint me a picture of a thousand words,
Whisper, gently in my ear, speak softly, and let confusion slip away in Layers after layer.

The mind becomes a window, a place.
Where we find warm winds that whistle by,
And, candy coloured rainbows that soften the sky.

White light and dark dreams of passion,
Bleach the fabric of our hearts,
Wonderful, wondrous place, where all things are possible,
Open you eyes, in awe, to this canvas of dreams.

Complex creature, wailing through the night,
Waif of fragile feelings of fellow lost,
Wake, and come whisper young eagle,
Be still, strike not, no prey lies here.

Freedom comes to those with good sense.
Open your mind, wisdom is sent so silently:
Be pure, so simple, listen, freedom is a gift.
Delay not, in times of troubled brow.
Heal and be well.

When you are feeling confused and out of sync,
And, life seems to be such a drag,
Try to think of all the good times,
Then life won’t seem that bad.
Serenity is a key to simplify your thoughts,
Where fear will be replaced with love,
From our divine father from above.

Mad thoughts and mind games will disappear,
When honesty and courage, begin to appear,
So unlock your heart and change your life,
And, let the old ways fade away,
Where we will then feel no highs or lows,
With those people pleasing shows,
And, from your clear thoughts and healthy mind,
Happiness you will find.

Hazy lazy dreams, from times gone by,
Frame frosty memories from misplaced youth.
Manic reports, misguided thoughts,
Bring feelings floating back.

Mad dog of kin, provokingly shy,
Brings bugbear splinters to my mind,
Failed times of thoughts past, so near.
Help me understand ‘Misty nights’ without fear.

A little bit of sunshine will brighten your day,
Where feelings of sorrow, gently melt away.
Rays so dazzling bright, cocoons you in white light,
That warms your heart and heals your mind,
With healing rays that are so kind.

Understand, these magical rays from above,
Are given to you with love,
Open your heart to this spiritual gift.
That gives your life a healthy lift.
Freedom comes to you this way.
So smile and give thanks,
For happiness is given to you this day.

Fear is a place, that hides in your mind,
Jungle of green, moist and most hidden,
Hides the young warriors that crawl in the grass.
So look to the left, Quickly? and see ones foe.

Soldier of silence from East and West,
Rouge killers of many are given a quest.
There’s no bridges to build or rivers to span,
So carry your feelings in a tin can.

Colonial conquests keep peril at bay,
Wait for the signs and open your eyes.
Hear my voice, fear not young man,
Your children are yet to be born,
So do not scorn,
For it’s not your time.

Light in light, shine bright in a blue Heaven,
Stars cascade white as angels delight.
Wait for that thought or maybe a wish,
It is time? is it my time?

Things we would change if given the chance:
New arms, new legs, new eyes or maybe just one.

I’m not a greedy person,
So don’t cry for me,
Whisper gently.
Let me hear your words.
Whisper gently.

Imagine a world without any pain,
Where your thoughts are free from personal gain.
A world full of colour where no evil exists.
Where the light is pure and the canvas is clean.
It is there, where the mind of the artist paints his friend.
Imagination is my friend.

Do you remember those happy times when laughter filled the air?
When we opened our hearts and shared our joys and fears.
In a world where bright smiles, welcomed you, on those warm summer nights.
In innocence, we sang softly, sad sentimental songs out of key.
To music, echoing the lovers march to couples hearts,

Was this an illusion? Did it really happen?
Feelings that remain in the depths of delusion,
Brings forth a reality transfusion.
The mind is indeed a strange creature at times, receptive and deceptive,
Be still and Listen!
Hold on to your impression, your theme,
Remember! We all need a dream.

Home is a feeling within your heart.
Where ever you are, wherever you be.
The wanderer of lands he makes his mark.
A tinker by choice, maker and mender of simple things,
A feeling man of wise thoughts.

He spins a story of mirth and frail.
Plays the flute and bangs the drum,
From pillar to post,
From north to south,
To the rhythm of the waves.

He travels the land without the shackles of time,
By modern chariot, in style, along those country lanes.
Rolling back the Pagan years,
Living a life of a playful skunk.
Freeing the youth in the old man of punk.

On the wall of the hippie bus.
A chunky graven image hangs high in hippie style.
Home is where the heart is, ay!
And more?