My Written Poetry

All God’s Children Are Lost And Insane

by Robert Moritz-Olsen


Try not to blame and judge,
a single soul,
that you are hurt.

Blaming and judging,
is The Devil’s dance,
his attempt to flirt.

Everything is fucked up in our civilization.
Because every man is crazy, in every nation.

When the world is crazy,
then all people grow up to become crazy,
nothing else you cannot expect.

Broaden your mind,
and in God’s Eye,
gain respect.

All God’s Children are lost and insane.
That is why you cannot point at,
a single one,
to blame.

Wake up brother,
wake up sis.

Can’t you feel the sun,
it gives you a kiss.

We are all victims,
we got to ride the snake.

Back to The Garden of Eden,
by an ancient lake.

So, in a broadened perspective,
forgive, start anew.

It is the time,
to finally break on through,
into freedom from the past,
and in healing,
all will last,
back in The Garden of Eden.


Arthur Jimbaud

Poems about, Jim Morrison,
Arthur Rimbaud And me.

Arthur Jimbaud


Arthur Jimbaud

I have been raised from,?
Out of hell.
I do not dwell,
By this ancient,
Ice frozen fire,
Of the Devil.

Generous wisdom,
Of all time,
Has been poured into my soul,
Beneath the wing of a solid rock,
That echoes timeless, in a short,
Space of time, forever.

Heaven is judicious,
That soft wisdom, of cool rivers reply.
Water into my hands,
Out of my mouth, and eyes,
To be consumed,
By all.

I will dilate, into something,
That is blessed,
And just as important as the sun.

I am the aspirant which blows the horn,
Of silence,
Sown, into a few words, of many.

I will not overcharge, the quanta of your,
Understanding of the soul.
I do offer a feast,
Not philosophy,
Not intellectual gibberish,
But I might put some poetry,
Into the well, of your souls.

I have risen from Africa’s meadows, ?
Shone through your thickened windows,
I do knock at your door.
You open, only gentle smiles to be gained,
For you.

You have to reconsider,
The core of your being.
You just be,
All I give,
All is free.

The tree shed its leaves,
Disappeared, gone,
By the root,
By the core,
You are bound to be healed.

You will probe, stroll through this wisdom,
To be digested,
Into your veins.
This is sanity.

No more garbled,?
No more.

The air fallen black board,
Is telling you,
Feel the spirit words,
Of the soul,
This whitened shadow,
Of Gods proof, of existing,
Grass of marble.

Later on, purity,
Will follow purity,
After cleansed days,
Of always sun to rise,
Through out all lives.

You may be unacquainted with this energy,
Never to be seen before,?
Likely now to be majestic felt,
In your veins,
And soul.

No more flee, to Africa,
The waves of ancient days,
Are rolling,
Like a jungle drum,
From city, to city.

Salvation, in the simple lives,
Of living, we have been waiting,
For so long.

Words, upon words,
Worlds, upon worlds,
Finally Kingdom,
Has settled,
With the tree of wisdom.

Snake said,
Back again.

Woman and man,
Naked on their knees.
Fall down into prayer,
Of pure divine drunkenness,
No more good or evil,
Only God’s immaculate sensation.

Stars, circled your dizzy being,
For so long.
You fell down,
Sudden in the morning sun,
And rose like all, that ever has been told,
By the unsaid wisdom, of God’s existence.

Sun do rise,
Arthur Jimbaud has spoken,
Fly, my be winged words,?
Of worlds.

Enter again the sweet forest,
Enter again the hot reality.

This is real.
All there is,
Forever into eternal moments,
Which will follow each other,
Step by step eternity.
The white doves,
Have claimed their roles,
Of natural being,
Of Queen’s, and King’s

We are,
So be.

South Arabian Mystic Winds

South Arabian mystic winds,
Have its purified start,
Swept over South African meadows.

Hidden God in hidden man.

The duality of the fig leaves,?
Owned by Adam and Eve.
Visionary poet, just humble,
Ready to undress.
The glimpse of Eden, until a total
Redemption has happened.

Their opponent is darkened,
Light is, to be seen,
A few true poet’s words, have shimmered,?
In this world of darkness.

Lack of life to be.

Wine, water poured into the keg.
Grail to be historical,
Into a wordless God,
Jesus without words.

Just to sense, being,
To create words, divine, pure, clear

Got To Keep On Rising

Sad poets, me poet,
Altar words,
Meaningful pictures of wisdom.
Legends rise.

Become real, no more dream.
Be real, be real.

Path has struck me with crystal clear visions of emotions.
The raven has sung its last songs of death.

Lily swans of vanilla, have softened the taut grip,
Of Godless destiny.
Always in a lack of a thing, man has been living partly,?

The holy stars of guidance have reunited,
Into a sun. To rise.
Got to keep on Rising.

Letters Revelation

His ancient historical brother,
Postures his hand,?
Holding the invisible answer.

Led from centuries ago,
In his hands,
To answer my creed,
In letters revelation.

Jim-bowed, I see you.

Proof, no more lethal.

Find your place, safe.
Rest in peace, the day.
We are reborn, and our children born.

Death in life,
Provokes the flame,
Just because of the name.

Jim-Bowed, I saw his grave,
Liquefied with my torch of continuance.

Arthur woke up.
The seed has been sown.

Truth is now to be known

Creed Is Here

How come, how did three of us become? What did happen?

Get rid of lies,
They die,
Truth lives.

Absence is the true word.

The livestock of wounded souls,?
No more.

I did have a dream,
Of ancient South Arabia.
True pottery, a ration of goat milk,
And Holy bread.

But invidious times drag easily man into drain,
Of devilish worshipping,
Strait behind the mask of so called religion.

Do you remember Eden?

Not a single thing.

Embracing the true words,
With your forgery.
Creed is here.


How do I spell Arthur?
Hur-Ry, to create a redemption of man.?
Poetry is a gateway,
To political entrance.

An irreconcilable type of politician,
I am, to be.

Irreversible dawn.

Jewel in South Arabia.
Sand threw its timeless light into modern man’s,
Candle of start.

All that has been gained,
Wisdom, has always been started by one, for all to know.?

Paris, Los Angeles, Paris, Christiania

I saw you, in Paris.
I saw him in Los Angeles,
In Paris..

Me, in ancient Christiania.

Three poets,
Three lives.

Eject borders.
Eject all street litter.?

Just three poets,
Probe the words.?

The process of spirit,
Has divine touch,
Of love,
As its guidance.

Here I Am

Start, fly, suddenly stopped.
Paris, meadows.

The fire of your solitary presence,
Of exile plains.?

Who, where are you now?
I wonder, dear wonder.

Did you fail the examination of God?
Or was it just you,
Giving me your torch.

Too heavy burden to carry.

Here I am.

Just Words In My Hands

Did you both escape the stress,
Of being the best poets of the world?

I can’t escape like you did.

I may be the first, and last poet,
Writing the first and last poem.

Am I fit for this natural role?

I think I am.
More important.
I feel I am.

I am meek,
And cocky.

A true artist,
Of Gaia.

Just words in my hands

Awake, A Feat Of Dawn.

You were alone, awake.

Lonely solitary,?

So am I.

Alone, awake,
With two guardian angels,
Next to my soul,
Of flesh.

A feat of dawn,?
Helps me to conquer the loneliness.

Never facade,
Mask killer,
Faces, to be embraced.

Africa, Arabia

Africa, Arabia

Let’s send an arrow together,
And hit the goal of Gaia,
Through the pen of mine.

Let the postured soul of words,
And vision,
Grab humanity,
By its soul.

You and you, made me.

Thank you and you!

Threesome Of Poets

Threesome of poets,
Like a Godly leaf.

Like a threesome, of a flowered soul.

Showing all grace,
In the savage streets,
Of Roman cities,
Of L.A, Paris and Christiania.

All directions of lithe snare drum sharpened,?
Struck down soul,
In future obedience.

This leaf just like a flowered soul,
Called the poet’s tree.

The Lament Of Man

The lament of man,?
Is juiced, answered,
In this page calling heed of poems.?

The minute of awakening,
Will keep it remembered,
As the first kiss of Jesus, revelation, feelings.

The Holy land entrusts the words,?
To sweep like a spring,
Over souls meadows,
With warm sun,
Flowers and rain,
To forever stay.

Misery And Longing

My dead and alive friend, Jim.
My dead and alive friend, Arthur.

All asks for our words to heal.?

People will stop kneeling,
While souls do rise.?

Kneeling without kneeling.

The felon is blindness,
And the inherit sin.
Misery of mask political,
Suit dress souls evilness.

You are all contemptuous,?
For what’s pure and clean.?

Given to us from God himself,
Without the hand of strait-ness.

Be free, God is free!

You are a God.

Lily Words

Lily is the alphabet,
When the letters are put together,
To explain the soft, true soul of man.

No clenching feet,?
No hardened fists.?

Just an open lotus,
To evolve and grow,
Like a holy river of divine experiences.

Love river, from shore and land.

Youth Of Rimbaud, Youth Of Jim

Youth of Rimbaud,
Youth of Jim.
Matured words,?
Did in you swim.

Mystery, words,
Altered fame.?
I do see your,
Christian name.

Call of poets,
Call of lives.
Roses showed you,
Lily wives.

Sad, stayed humble,
Though a King.
Explained the meaning,
Of everything.

O Poems, O Poets

O poets, O Poems!
You give me the real.
Stories and tales,
The savage would steal.

O life, O wife!
I know you by heart.
Your inner space,
Is better than art!

O God, O Lord!
The father, the son.
Materialize the sage,?
The words, of thy sun.

All Does Long For The Paris Eagle

Not at home,
But so close in the words,
For you to feel.

Your fertile words,?
Did not make darkness,
A total King.

You have lit the candle.

Each cry of yours,
Where crystal clear lives,
As autumn fresh night, in sight.?

Dawn, dawn,
Rest in lawn.
Want to wake up,
With a yawn!

All does long for the Paris Eagle.?

The Space Of A Poet

The space of a poet,
Is the pen,
Universe captured in ink.
I did feel and think,
So did you.

How come this fertile feeling,?
Which is born out of words?

Not a God damn fury,
But a fountain of wisdom.

All is born out of ink,
Even trees.

Check mate, darkness.

Fulfilled, rest, holy,

Scared And Dizzy?

Scared and dizzy,
Just because of our words?

Are you ready?

A huge feeling, of possible to be,?
Is sown in your heart.

Is it a start?

Yes, it is.

Can you consult us,?
The poets?

History is future,
In now to be.

Be free!

Here Is The Key!

Our feeling,
Does not go up in smoke.

Felicitate its woodened,?
Written, spoken word.

We wrote it on paper.

Scale the prison walls.

All raise,
Birds, you have read.

Not dead.
Not bed.

The reason?

Our feeling, does not go up in smoke.
It lingers like the infinite words of three,
And many more.

Open the door!

Here is the key!

Shit, We’re All A Hit!

Shit, we’re all a hit,

Preserve the consumption,?
Of wisest words,
Forever to be.

Sages, storytellers,
In words of religion.

Shit, we’re all a hit.

Yeah, mirror, mirror, on the wall.
We’re the greatest,
Of them all!

Shit, We’re a hit,
And we all,
Know it.

The Best Fools Company

Jim, Rimbaud, we were all,
Surrounded by fools.

But, it’s better to have the best fools company,
Than none at all.

A crusade for ourselves,?
We were, crowded with nothingness people.?

It’s better to have the best fools company,
Than none at all.

Call you.
Are you there?

I am here!

Two other poets gone,
Inside the sun.

Here, me and none,
The best fools company..


Garlands, we wore them,
It is so beautiful,
And Christ-like,
For a poet to be.

Life, O holy classmate.
Love, O holy soul mate,
The most prodigious love,?
Of all.

The muse.

Keep on inspiration,
No words, no, no.

Life, yeah, yeah.

I got it

I conquered the labyrinth.

I have gained a garland,
A poet Christ.

O me!

Have You Ever Seen God, Mandala?

You, Rimbaud, and Lord,
Bloke James, Jim.

So close to the essence,
Of this feeling called God,
The emotional mandala.

Me, inside it, all the time,
I recall,
And rise into it.?

Godly feelings,
Are hostile to enemy darkness.?

God is a feeling,
To see and seize

A life rose!?
A rose beyond the rose.

You can see through it,
And still see it!

Crazy Child

The poet is looked upon,
As a crazy child.?

The reason?

He is so strongly filled,
With a personality,
Which is impossible to suppress,
In this world of masks.

A torch of soul,
The mountain,
The fountain.

Listen to it,
Drink it,
Think it,
And feel this personality.
The crazy child,

The Poet is strong and pure,
Endurance to make you feel real.?

The crazy poet,
Lets out his soul,
So strong.

Just to be sane.

So, you do too.

So, you be crazy,
So you stay sane.

Art Jim-Bowed

Art, Jim bowed kneeling,
Like a happy wheel of,

Clear to enter
Eternal existence,
Of now,
For us to experience.

Art, Jim bowed.

Circled Grave

Circled grave,
Ghost poet air,
Inhabitant in earth Heaven,?
Visions, grave stone.

You were banished in a Holy way from mother Earth.?
Still here, still here.

Here all is still silent,
With the deep soil,
Whispering of yours.

Bones, skull, mane, your hair.

A box of African sand?
South Arabian left off?

Crazy forever, the line is drawn.

My pen, the continuance.


France, home of two,
Red thread of bloodline,
Just like Christ’s child.

Cling to sacred words.

Genuine youngsters,?
Mile stones, to make an eternal

Mirthful drag,?
Joyful sorrow.

I see these lines drawn.
This is the road to happiness.

Only because of true poets.

Paris, France, home of the
Holy two.

Lily Girl

Lily girl, was his girl.
Little pearl,
Unfurled, true lover,
Soul mate, cosmic mate.

Fate experienced,
So close.

Lost Adam, lost Eve.
So close to be found.

Pamela and your snake.

Lily girl, pale, always pale.

He never faked a mile.
So close, he left you.

You limped sad into your grave of tears,
And sorrow,
Saw no tomorrow,
After he left you.

Lily girl.


Romance, flew from France,
Landed soft and gloomy,
In Los Angeles.

Rimbaud, Heaven blue,
Covered poet.?

You did host an enchanters wisdom.?

Flowers, romantic fields.
Invisible beret, cap,?
Poet identity.

I presume that you felt
The connection, of your
American brother.
A review of your life,
A troubadour of words.

Pale Lover

Take care of my pale lover,
If I were to land violently into the grave,
Too early at time.

Take care of her.

Me, irreplaceable poet,
Did maybe die,
Because of fire pen.?

I may exasperate the fields,?
Of the Devil.

Provoke, and leap out,
Of my grave.
The reason?

I was wild and polite.

Please take care of her,

Peaceful Poet

Peaceful poet,
Troubled mind,
Because of solitary,
Salvation pages.?

With a liability of,?
Must do.

Like a librarian,
In the walk of life.

I do dignify this state ?
Of alphabet constructions.
It turns into wisdom.
Shattered glass of the hindrances,?
The hindrances of the pure,
And clean soul.

Peaceful poet, not so troubled mind.

Please, listen to the poet, children.

It’s an awakening of God, in sun,
And flesh.


Clever happiness.
An excursion with,?
The flowered leaders,
Into inner cosmos.

Likable facade,
Which trigger
Inner blooming.

My dear fellow,
This is almost a free obedience,
Of law,
Written in wind.
Whispers love.

Might astonish you,
If you dare to walk the path of the sun.
It belongs to true poets,
Leading the way,
For all.

Rimbaud’s Heart

What did pound,
In your heart Rimbaud.
Surely not only words,
But this sense, of a feeling.

You were licensed to express it.

This over sensibility,
Of a grown youngsters heart.

You express the secrecy,?
Of God’s, Holy ocean of full,
Potential feelings.

But imperial,?
A King of a souls life.

You did cheer this,
Boundless feeling.

So strong.
So eternal.
So sensitive.


Pride, solitary.
True sojourn in,?
The empty space,
Of a crowd.

Very sociable,?
In terms of normal.
But alive,
Too much alive.

Nobody knows the knowing,
Of being knowledgeable,
Of this thing we all call,
The soul.

The brain is rapid.?
The drama of an ancient waterfall.
Thrill full waterfall,
Not a boring lazy river,
Nobody wants, to frame,
Into history of man.

Digesting rays of the sun,
To shine like oneself.?

Is that alien? No, it’s being alive.

Our Words Of Wine

Our words of wine,
Christ like liquid,
Which altar life,
Like a summer breezed wind.?
Of forever tasted sensations,?
Forever to be.

This is wine,
Blood line drawn,
Into present eternity.

For all to know.
For all to know.
All that comes,
To never go.

We have sown dawn,
Into the pristine foot prints,
Of yours.

King Arthur

Royal poet,
Your silver smile.

Sensitivity of a pale,
Written soul,
Of King’s obedience,
To conquer the diversity of colors.

The white invisible light.

The formative years,?
Of this lifelong,
Shortened life,
Are behold of a profoundness,?
That can only be explained through, words of wind.

Breezed in thy hearts,
It was very much maintained,
Through a whole life of living,
Of a short space of time, of always being.

What codes, did you solve,
To be expressed, by an ancient soul,
So much older than you, and so well wise as you.

You are appropriate to wear the crown,?
Of a king.

You are not only a poet,
But also a king in the words,
Of the former non speaking soul.

You overturned the understanding,?
Of religion, a poet’s true Christ smile,
Finally to be claimed,
To be owned by mankind.

The river of your poetry,
Fills up every part,
Of the lost soul of man.

The short rhymes,
The fable, ?
Of true stories, tales.

Do not crucify the words,
Of the sun.
Do not crucify, the worlds,
Of the church of his Eden, Gaia.

Roses are thrown,
Life seeds,
Are crowned in most of every word,
That has been spoken.

The pen, writes in every scattered,
Movement, of a caption,?
Of the very word, called proof.

These holy words,
Do demilitarize the absence,
Of not believing,
In God, nor destiny.

True king,
A small everything,
Letter by letter.

Soul mathematics,
emotions rule,
In safe sun’s,
Obedience of the bliss, of worlds, in words.

Thank you, for not bringing discord,?
Any more, into the creed of man.

Such, he has been longing for so long.

King Arthur,
I bow down at your feet.
Every street filled with walk of wine.
Every street filled with golden blessed paths.
Every heart filled, with a trust of relying,?
In three crazy Kings.

Yes, King Arthur there are three of us.
A Holy, symbol of God’s dawn. Flamed into pure poetry.


Ghost Songs

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Ghosts of musicians,
Playing words,
Like soul speakers

Even though their dead.
They crowd the Chief.
Giving him power,
To lead,
All bad, mad, sad people,
Into glad people.

Modern times,
Are far more ancient,
Than you could ever,


Drums, voices,
Belly sound,
Deep sound.
Beyond what you hear,
And Feel.

Earth got voice,
Words made out of it.

Words trigger,
Your inner native forgotten child,
To wake up.



Cinema told me,
Cradle to stone.
Do you remember,
The ancient holy grounds,
of graves?

Do you remember,
The woman giving birth,
To life?

Do you recall all,
In between?

No more movie,
Real deal,
Real adventure.

More than magic.


Several souls,
Stood there,
For years.
Hundreds of years

Awaited the winds,
Coming from north.

The wolf howls,

Only one, multiplied,
With future.

That means,
Native living.


The man of vision.
Myth, much more than all,

ever has been posted.

His words,

His presence,
His picture,

His voice.

They never die.

His voice gives back,
Your own voice,
To your true natural self.


Don’t you cry baby,
The times will change.
Clocks will stop.
And time will move.

Only a soft parade,
Of native parties.

Ghost dance.

The ones who once,
Breathed life into,
The child,
The wild child.


Ancestors, rest upon,
Your graves.

A silent sigh from,

The ghosts of tomorrow.

Dawn’s highway,

Dawn in brain,

Seems insane.

But is dawn crazy?
It is so crystal clear.

Don’t you see?
Don’t you feel?


The feather,
Once was a pen’s,


Words, of ink,
He did think,
Words did sink,
Inside us,
And did rise the souls,

In the spiritual sunrise.

Only words put together,
Can make a literal,

Grizzly bear roar freedom.


There are no,

No ends.

Just a flowing of people.

Partying, in a measured,


Hold hands,
Grab stars.
Plant light,

And wake up sober,
For every day of grace.

Ghost songs, incarnated,
Inside and outside the,
Native man.

The Creator, has made,

His dreams,

And visions real,
And all is true.


Is Everybody In?

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about,
To begin.

Not any revolution,
But the wind of breeze,

A sigh of relief,
The sigh of salvation.

Back to nature.
No mask at the soul.

Everything is broken up,
And dances.

“Dance with Jim,
An Indian mile.
You will loosen up,
After a while.”


The stage.
He sings every word,
From every page.

Crowded by Indians,
In his childhood.

It kind of stuck with him,

Drove him madly,
To love life badly.

Worn out,
Fell at the floor,
By the microphone.

But the myth,
Did rise.


A survey, of life,
An awakening,
Of his crystal clear,
Pain of the clear night.

He did not understand it.
He was the freedom man.

But all through his life,
His soul was not,
Entirely free.

The frustration of the west,
Free minds,
Locked up hearts.

All captured in one person.

He was only one inch,
Away from salvation.



Cool guy.
He did make the rules,
Some to follow,
Some to reject.

A good “Eden Christian”,
James Douglas Morrison,

But the games of the world,
Made the rules,
Of the daily life.

Poetry, his friend,
The only friend.

All blind.
But, hey Jim.
Good times too!

I see the Christian Feather,
Moves biblical too,
In the wind.

Moving like Indians,
Nomads in the air.

A free floating soul,
With quotes from The Bible,
As a skeleton foundation,
Of this free bird,
Of day.

Brightly feathered.
Free in the sky,
Our gift from the Creator, God.

“Legal, lawless,
Native child.
You are so innocent,
You are so wild.”

Poet, poet,
You were free.
The ink was blessed,
Inside of thee.

Beautiful, beautiful,
Sure you were.
The strangest life,
You found it here.

Words were birds,
Your sky of truth.
You sounded wise,
All from the youth.

Poet, poet,
Among the best.
Your words, the host,
We, the guest.


You made the movie.

Before only a picture,
At the wall.

You made us aware,
Of this living picture,
Life is.

You tried your best.

If you are aware of death,
It will provoke,
Life in you,
Which will conquer death,
In life at earth,
And into eternity.

“Conquer death, with life.”


Seven holy years,
After your death,
The bells of awakening,
Did ring.

In An American Prayer,
So dearly it was.
The Doors open the doors,
To basically,
A native mystery.


The end is always near.
You got to beat the fear.

Be one with the stars.

Naturally stoned,
In the fields,
Of the buffalo.


You were so close,
To the flame.
In your song,
A Little Game.

But a King’s,
Burned a holy,
Blessed fire,
At stage,
And in your daily life.

It was a pleasant strife,
To be calm, and at ease,
The freedom man.


Is everybody in?
Let the ceremony begin.

Listen, and dwell,
To your stories, you tell.

Poetry is potent,
Life changing.

My dearest Jim Morrison,
Where has the poetry gone?

Is the only poet left,
The wordless sun,
In the sky?

“Poetry is wisdom,
Behold the rhymes.
Poetry has helped us,
Since the beginning of time.”

Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about,
To begin.

Only words do win.


Knocking On Heaven’s Door


Robert Moritz-Olsen

The world has gone so crazy,
that it does not notice it anymore.
Here I come,
knocking at your door.
You are fast asleep,
and you live so fast.
Only money and orgasms,
give you a blast.
What has happened to you,
Adam and Eve?
Take a notice,
I got something up my sleeve.
I will undress you,
in the sweet summer sun.
You will feel just like Kingdom has come.
You will feel all the things,
you have only seen before.
Knock, knock, knocking on Heaven’s door….
in your heart,
with my art!
Jim Morrison said,
yeah, that’s what you read,
raise up from the living dead.
Jesus is your wine,
Jesus is your bread,
life is the true poetry of God,
a poem!


L.A.W. (L.A.Woman)


Robert Moritz-Olsen

The Changeling

A wake up call,
The changeling.
A great reminder,
That you’re a King.

Start anew,
Cutting loose.
The path of rebirth,
Is the one to choose.

Light up, easy,
Take hold of fate.
Embrace the tempting,
Walk through gate.

A newborn soul,
Aware, no sleep.
Boundless, eternal,
Forever deep.

Love Her Madly

Love her madly,
Ain’t that badly.

Sensitive longings,
Of crying.

Come back,
Not out the door, again!

Make up,
In our wake up call

So close,
That tender touch,
Of love,
That we both know,
Belongs to lucky us!

Been Down So Long

Been down so long,
God damn too.

Got the key,
Not for me, but for you.

Maybe I’m blessed,
To rise.
In my hell,
Of Paradise.

Good luck fate,
Full of sin.
Try to please me,
Let me win!

Cars Hiss By My Window

Make up Eve,
And Adam drunk.
She’s a girl,
And I’m a punk.

Cars do crawl
Also hiss.
It happens so much,
But still I do miss.

An essence of lovin’,
In heart and soul.
Fill up this life,
Fill up this hole

L.A.W. (L.A. Woman)

Spell it, guess it’s LAW.
She’s so sickened,
The lonely black, blue braw.

Her streets of wine,
Are filled with blood.
Blinking neon,
Jesus, God.

Brilliant start,
Of a crazy town.
Where eagerness is lost,
In a thorn driven crown.

LAW is written,
In the streets of L.A.,
Humans here, hear all,
God’s angels pray,
For L.A.

L’ America

L’ America
So crazy,
Rather insane.

So insane,
That craziness,

Like a glass of,
Marilyn Monroe.

Screams like a poster,
With eyes.

Worn out,
And insane.

I’ll teach you love, L’ America!

Hyacinth House

Greek is America,
America is Greek.
Symbols of knowing,
Not cocky, but meek.

Hand out the dragon,
Leave me the new.
The end, is the link.
To break on through.

This son of knowing,
Did just let go.
So I do pick up,
What he did sow.

Crawling King Snake

Crawling King Snake,
Outside the Garden.
Bites the people,
Without, beg your pardon.

Sneaky snake,
The King of sin.
Let’s heal your danger,
And let’s begin.

Start, the return,

Eden’s soul.
I’ll marry the snake,
My serpent goal.

Two is one,
We were lost,
and gone,
Back again.

The WASP (Texas Radio and The Big Beat)

Soul of the west,
To me is the best.
But square time rollin’,
Let’s cry out, for soul in.

Radio’s on,
The soul is gone.
We live in the desert,
Without the sun.

Iron souls,
Are filled with holes.
Stop this party,
Which never rolls.

Riders On The Storm

Work less, love more.
At ease, will open every door.

Screwed up soul,
Does storm the past.
Look into the eye,
Relaxed and fast.

Family stranded,
In the eye of a storm.
Freedom is given,
In a withborn norm.

Let the children play,
And out of grey.

The storm’s soon over,
Along this way.


The Marriage of Heaven and Hell


Robert Moritz-Olsen

Life is the marriage of Heaven and Hell.
There exist no other worlds in between,
that for sure i can tell.

Life is a struggle,
life is a blessing.

Does the sun burn you,
or is it gently caressing, you?

Holding the hands of life,
holding the hands of death.

Heaven and Hell, is married,
in every single breath.

In this marriage,
you can pick and choose.

You can even be a winner,
despite you do lose.

It is Heaven and Hell,
at the same time.

It can burn or bless you,
you write the rhyme.

So, look at the sky,
do not stare in the ground.

Your soul follows your vision, period,
there is no way around.


The Most Blasting Eden I’ve Ever Known


Robert Moritz-Olsen

This is the most blasting Eden I’ve ever known.
I am aware of that,
thanks to the seeds Jim Morrison has sown.

He made me search,
for my Indian tribe.

I did find it,
with an Eden’s vibe.

When you go for a walk,
notice the evergreen trees.

See the flowers,
the birds and the bees.

And if you are bored,
what shall you do?

Can’t you see and feel,
all the things that are surrounding you?

You pray for a miracle,
but you are already born?

Yeah, of course there is sadness,
at times, you’re lost and forlorn.

But at the moment you feel the sun in the sky.
You feel something inside you,
that will never die.

Wake up!
God’s Kingdom is already here.

Bow down at your knees,
and bury your fear.

The blasting Eden,
is there at your feet.

Your eternal soul,
is the one you will meet.

Life is God’s beauty,
take my words.

I point at your wings,
then I point at the flying birds.


My Eden Is So Magic

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


People do not feel what I feel,
and that I think is tragic.

This is the strangest life I’ve ever known,
my Eden is so magic.

I stroll around with a naked face,
no false mimic come to be.

I am myself, and alone I see,
I’m the only one who is free.

I undress my guests, with an eagle look,
seeing the core of their souls.
Every human i have ever met,
is hiding in darkened holes.

The reason why, is strange my friend,
the daylight, does not hurt.
I am here, my loving lasts, I’m not a guru flirt.

I tell you all, at the break of dawn,
open up your eyes.
It is easier to see, feel and sigh,
saying I’m finished with all the lies.

All you people, lay down your masks,
let the wind embrace.
The savior of the human race, is YOU,
a natural God’s Child, with your cool face.


A Native American Prayer

by Robert Moritz-Olsen
In memory of Janelle “Emma” Preston



The Native American Indians,
Prayed with God at their side,
Not for him only, up in the sky.

A Native American Prayer,
Only fulfilled,
By the Ghost Dance.



All ancestors did harvest,
Feathers, given to the right person,
Of today.

To dance,
The feathered Ghost Dance,
For all to be seen,
And felt.



My Lord Jesus,
Heal the white man,
Once and for all,
Of your wisdom to be understood.

And dared to be done,
Under the sun.



Suns, sons.
Water, daughters.
Life, wife.
Man, hand.
We all share hands,
To share the common prayer,
Of life into Heavens,
Of Mother Earth and Father Sky

Dear all,
Spring to fall,
I call,
A mountain to request,
The humble but strong,
And Royal,
Divine prayer.



River long,
The song,
To souls,
The water flows,
The river knows,
The river loves,
From clouds above.
The path of life,
joy and strife.

Reverence, prayer.



Woke up,
Clear blue sky.
Music of river,
Music of mankind.

Calm, singing.
Waiting for dance to dance.

Like our life is.

Whatever it brings.

Mostly joy,
And the natural adventures,
Of Natives.



Boy watches dawn,
Old man watches sunset,
They are standing next to each other,
At the same time, of day.

Celebrating together.

Wild horses at plains.
Sunlight is the same sunlight,
To all.

Even though it is different,
At every eye of mankind.


Nothing Can Replace A Fire 
(Nothing Replaces A Fire)

Robert Moritz-Olsen



Nothing can replace,
A fire.
(Sitting around the bonfire, in nature, with a tribal feeling.)

Buffy Sainte-Marie,
Told me that.

Have you ever seen God,
A mandala? Yes!
Have you ever felt God,

A mandala? No!

But you can see,
The clear sharp eagle,
Does fly above,

North America’s plains.

In only words,
Of survey,
He tells you:

“Nothing can replace the feeling of God.”

The eagle invites you,
To freedom.


Dance so wild,
In the evening,
So the Creator,
Can see you.

Sing so loud,
In the night,
o the Creator,
Can hear you.

Love so hard,
In the morning,
So the Creator,
Can feel you.

Laugh so loud,
In the day,
So the Creator,
Can rest in the fields,
Of yours.


Children shall not,

Be tamed.

Children shall not,

Be named.

They are nameless,
With an identity,
Of a name.

It is meant for fate,
To decide,
Its name.


The poet,
Did rise in America.
The poet,
Did die in Paris.

The poet,
Lives in the books,
And songs,
Of The Doors.

He was crazy,
To be free.

He was crazy,
To be,

Indian, Indian,
What did you die for?

Worlds, out of words.


He walked,
The ancient caves,
Of yesterdays tomorrow.

He saw his stone,
In his dreams,

Of the future.

He knew it all,
He was afraid,

He felt fear.

But he was responsible,

He let himself,
Into history,
So the history,
Can let him in.

Is he in (the history)?
Let the ceremony begin.


Hear the silent,
Voice of nature.

With your ear,
At the ground.

Hear the voice,
Of Mother Nature.

Hear her call,
Save us,
Save us.

The savior closes his eyes,
And feels God inside.

Go off the plane,
And smile to the,

Waiting world.


Indian, Indian,
What do you live for?

I live for myself,
I live for humanity,
I live to share love, wisdom.

The world cannot bare it anymore.

We need a new answer,
Instead of a way.

Live for life,
Because life do live for us.

Climb the sky,
The blue adventure,
Of a safe haven,
Called sky of,

Indian, lives for his,
Future tribe,
To be found in words.


Forgotten worlds,

We all know the flash,
Of Eden,
Standing there,
On freedom shore.

You have done it,
For short sacred moments.

Do you recall the sun?

We have all known,
The sea.

We have all drunk,

From the river.

We’re still trying,
For something,
That’s already found us.


Little old fears,
Scared you,
Into the storm,
Of leadership,
Leading all,

You are lead by,
The storm of your heart.

Find peace of soul,
You are whole.
The storm chooses,
The path of yours.

You know the day destroys,
The night.

Say this:

The world is a dark place,
with your eyes closed.

One step, this is the first.


The world is growing,
But it needs a little,

Read the rhymes,
And what you will find.

An American Prayer,
Sent to Heaven.

Prayers answered,
With words.

Please, please, listen to me children,
Words are the key,

To the world.

And in that world,
You will say,
The first silent words of yours.

God, thank you,
For the river who knows,
And the ocean that rolls,
with the waves of eternity.


The Second Coming

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Jesus, save us, he did scream.
A bright Apostle, entered my dream.
Words do point, words do say.
A force of all, comes our way.
Thunder, lightening, clear up sky.
The sharpness of living, does never die.
Eden Shores, they hear his talk.
From night and cold, they start to walk.
Walk the easy path to life.
The Holy Bible, promised, no more strife.
Under the Sun, under the Son.
My beloved fellow, the Kingdom has come,     to stay, pray.


Ship of Fools

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


People walking on the moon,
but crawling like snakes on Mother Earth.
We are brainwashed with ambitions,
from the very day of birth.
Rather than showing the children Eden,
they only teach us math.
You can figure out the formulas,
when God comes with his wrath.
All literature, really, easily explains.
How to avoid, being stupid, evil and insane.
So, here I come, spoonfeeding all,                  in a giant babies land.
But it seems, that no one will                      ever understand.
Build your bombs, silence the birds.
Yeah, I’m just another poet, with words.
You see that, but do you feel it?
Words, make birds, and birds make worlds.


Tell All The People

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Tell all the people,
what i am about to say.

Even an atheist,
will start to pray.

that life exists,
is an enormous lottery,
Mother Earth has won.

Upon that,
you are born under the sun.

Twice a winner,
Lucky U.

What a blessing,
so true,
so true.

Imagine the tree,
a straw of grass.

The funny dog,
with an itchy ass.

All the life,
at planet Earth.

Gives you an opportunity,
to a revival,
a rebirth.

Imagine all the things,
happening in your body.

Still you forsake it,
your Roman hands,
are bloody.

But why don’t you have a joy,
that bursts in your soul.

Life is nothing but Eden,
come out of your hole.

If you approach,
life as Eden,
with your heart.

It will be a flaming fire,
that will start.

So, take off your shoes,
in the Indian Summer,
the grass, is so sweet.

Life is an miracle that happens,
in every heartbeat.



The Trauma Tyrant

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


All the people are traumatized,
by the crazy world.
And I will come to say,
the result of that,
which has to be unfurled.

All your traumas,
are doing your each and every choice.
Because you don’t have contact,
with your inner voice.

You are silenced,
and the mess makes your every move.

And your broad daylight sunsoul,
is replaced,
by a lunatic moon.

How to stop this inner storm,
and all the evil choices it does.

Is to do your best,
to silence,
this evil boss.

Be aware,
of your every pattern in life.

What could be good,
is now,
nothing but strife.

So watch your step,
with your inner eye.

Walk with your soul,
not with the trauma tyrant lie.

Wake up a thousand times,
Jim Morrison said.

Think of the stuff,
you now just have read.


Waiting For The Son

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Him from Heaven,
we do await.
He can make all love,
not hate.
He will rise, like spring does bloom.
He comes with light,
no darkened doom.
He opens doors,
got key by hand.
Shows us Eden,
The Promised Land.
A true Messiah,
as told for years.
Only joy,
will fill our tears.
He will point,
and you will see.
A vision has come,
to only be.
He cannot see wrong,
only what is right.
He comes like dawn,
with precious warmth and light.
You do await,
like people do.
The Lord,
has come to heal the blue.
He opens the gate,
the door within.
A way to come out,
you have to go in.



Waiting For The Sun

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



You are waiting for,
Something unknown.

You are waiting for,
The sun.


You live under the sun,
But there is a sun,
Inside you.

You have never felt it,
Or seen it.

One morning you awoke,
And the strange sun,
Opening your door.


Close your eyes,

Be in the center.

Darkness disappears,
In the presence of light.

Observe fears,
And it disappears.

Daily dawn.


You only know,
The dawn by letters.
We do not know,
The feeling of it!

It is a cool, grounded,
Bliss of joy.

You have seen pictures,
Of the dawn.

Something inside you,
Is longing for the dawn.

We are destined to,
Recognize things,
We have never seen, or felt before.

The sun.


Afternoon light,
Golden scenery.
Imagine the best,
Evening of your life.

Say it in your prayers.

Thee, you sun:

So, am I so golden,
As the beautiful,
Summer evening.
The sun’s scenery?


Yes, you are golden.
The most precious gold,
Is inside you.


These stories,
Of sitting together,
In sun and rain,
The sun shows it all.

There are so many,
Surrealistic things,
Under the sun.

But still we feel crystal clear.

We are born to live the art,
Life under,
The one feeling,
Of the sun.


The Kingdom,
Is endless.
All is there,
To be lived.



Do you want more?


Sun is all,
This life of showing,
The created,
For the eyes,

To see,
For the heart to feel.

God gave us light,
And life.

The sun turns problems,
Into small shadows of strife,
In the clear sun,
In the light of day.



This is the strangest,
Life I ever known.
These are the most,
Loving seeds,
I have ever sown.

Dawn, imagine.
Feel the words.
Relaxed at the lawn.

This is a slow,
And bright awakening,
Of state of being.


The butterfly,
Does not scream,
In this vision,
In the land of God,
At Mother Earth,
The created,
By the Creator,

You are here,
Write a verse,
And live it!

The sun is here.


Wild Child

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Statement of Jim Morrison:
“I am not mad,
I am interested in freedom.”

Grow up! Be a child of God!

Our inner nature,
Is pure joy.

It can be reached,

It has not been preached.
Because the doors of perception,
have been closed,
You have never tasted it before.

The inner Garden of Eden.

Natural, kind, God,
The wild child.

So well,
You live in a hell.
You do dwell,
Have to sell,
Your soul,
To the perception,
People got of you.

Inner flame,
Your true name,

Whom to blame?

All is passed over,


You are nature,
Nature flows,
Nature knows,


Lawn, dance crazy,
As a natural theatre.

Greek Gods at the lawn,

Woke up at dawn.

A yawn,
That forgot the prison,
Of night.

We are all drunk, but sober.

Calm, but crazy.
Nice surprises,

All the time.

A wild child’s adventure.


Infinite feelings,
You got.

You feel you are eternal,
In the marrow of your bones.

Children, are spiritual.

Never leave the feeling,
Of wonder,
You wander,
As a bird at the sky.

Clear blue sky.
You look upon,
And sail.


Natural child,
Wild energy.

In a calm way,
Of expression.

The faces of the,
Wild child,
Is a face,
Not a mask.

He conquers the beauty of life,
In every single way.

The reason.

The sun radiates,
As you are made.


Kindness of the gentle,

Wild flower.

Many flowers,
Wild flowers,

Which shower,

Soft love.

Wild, soft love.


Like an improvised song,
Under the sun,
And the stars.

Melody of variety,
Melody of love,
And wondering songs.

Melody in conversations too,
Totally free.


Keeps mind,
Constantly sane.

A river out of the eyes,
A sea of harmony,
In the feelings.

You feel free,
And you sigh,

In the hands,
Of God.

Because the rivers,
Dance silently,
Out of your eyes.

A freedom, you never,
Have seen before.

Streets filled,

With radiating,
Silence of laughter.

Celebrating everywhere.
Mostly calm, crazy,

And happy.

This is the wild child,
In a Paradise,
At Mother Earth.


All Hatred, Is Self Hatred

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


All hatred,
is self hatred,
nothing besides.

Observe the self hatred,
with your soul deep inside.

The Devil tries to trick you,
that you are nothing and none.

He wishes you,
days without the Sun,
and God’s Son.

You hate your neighbor,
because you hate yourself.

Pick down The Holy Bible,
from your bookshelf.

So, open The Holy Bible,
open your heart.

And flowing like Eden,
is your fate,
and your art,
a brand new start!


An African Prayer

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Him in Africa?
Jim in Africa?

Praying with God,
In the cradle of man.

Let us travel from Paris,
Into An African Prayer of,

As life sometimes feels,
But it is all real.

An African Prayer


Late Jimbo.

Hi brother.
Hi Mother Earth.

Jimbo eats breakfast with his tribe.
A tribal homecoming.

Rise with the sun.
Sleep with the moon.

No rain today.
Sun there,
We here.
The jungle stares at my,
Morning eyes.
Small child,
Laughs and smiles.
Jumps out of the cradle,
Of morning.
And will ride the day,
On a lion’s back,
Into the grave of day.
The dreams last night,
Were urban.
I told the child.
No more.
Child said no more, no more.
More of, of no more, he said,
And I stayed with,
My morning.

Full of life,
Life full of not,
Only me,
But all of us.
My home coming,
In my tribe.
The clouds of words,
Turned into a blue sky,
Where I without thoughts,
drift into talking,
With my tribe.
Mr. Fun came out of,
His cottage.
And said.
Hi bro!
Let us eat!
Women preparing food,
That we gathered in,
The night.

These moments I have gained,
With Mr. Fun and child,
And her.
I told them,
I was a sailor in the,
Dark night, just cold,
Stars at the urban sky.
But you warm me.
You loving charmers.
I told them at the meal,
They would never steal me,
And turn me into a statue,
Of steel.
Little child,
Said poet.
Here is a seed, sow it!

Evening. Sun down.
Bonfire up.
Light up all of us.
Sitting around.
Fruit juices from the woods.
Some ancient looks.
But with a laughing laughter,
And it follows thereafter.
All, one.
I never thought life would,
Be so alive, and mysterious.
And magic, and so,
Natural grounded.
Being. Power of the inner sun.
The tribe healed me,
I was a poet,
But now I really know it.
I am glad I remembered Africa.

Walk at night,
In the moonlight.
Heard a noise.
sharp eyes,
Of me.
What is there?
Bless the animal,
We caught,
A bird.
We shall eat the bird.
That is what my body heard.
In the moment of hunting.

Years, gone by.
They thought I died.
I said farewell.
But I did not tell.
Where I went.
I could have been president.
I am a myth over there.
I am true adventure,
Woman, family,
I never heard so much,
Laughter ever before,
Like here.
Doors are open.
All of them.
Life comes in,
Life comes out.
Just like breathing.

Will I go back,
Stuck in the track.
Party in train.
Not dancing in the rain.
There I talk of the fun.
Here I walk with the sun.
I got it now,
In all of me.
And that is all,
I ever wished.

Years go by,
All years I sigh.
I do not want to say,
Good bye.
To all of what I got,
Of possible all.
The cities fall.
But the temptation does fall.
Like tall buildings,
Over the years.
No more!
More, of no more.
I disappeared into,
Finding everything.
In an African prayer.

Taxi from Africa,
I want to sleep those insane hours.
Farewell home,
Back to exile in main street.
I am no more afraid.
I remember when I was in Africa.
I bring it to civilization,
From civilization.
From where I left,
To where I go.
Marry them both, this I think, and feel, in my moment,
Of homecoming leaving,
Sitting in a taxi from Africa.
Is everybody in?
The ceremony is about to begin.



Be A Little Bit Like Jesus

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Be a little bit like Jesus,
try it dear,
it will help a lot!

Always have his words,
please do, in the very spot.

Praise his words,
and do it boldly,
and do not only praise his name.

Because his words do consist,
of The Heavenly Holy Flame.

Love your enemies,
do not judge,
I beg you,
do forgive.

These three quotes,
are crucial my love,
and forever you will live.

In the Flame and Name,
of the Holiness,
of this humble man.

The day you follow all his words,
you will understand.

The Mustard Seed is planted deep,
in all of His Holy words.

When this seed finally grows,
we will fly free,
like the birds,
in the tree.


Chief Mojo Risin’

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Last words,
Last words out!

He named her,
Little Princess,
To be the Queen,
In his ancient future.

The plane headed for,
The invisible sun,
Called afterlife,
In Paris.

Into the harbor,
Of art, and heart.


Walking streets,
Talking beats,
But renewed,
With energy.

He recalls the party,
He left back in,
The wild, wild west.

Soft summer sun,
of feast of friends,
It never ends.

The trails of the,
non-setting sun,
Follow the footsteps,
Of fate,
Of our God.

Aristocratic parties,
Lack of words.
But full of them,

Explaining with,
Wordless words,
Some became,
The Paris Journal.

Streets of seeing,
Streets of being.
Finally home,
Paris the center of,

Heart of the planet.


Drinking wine,
Feeling fine.
I am yours,
You are mine.

Poetry shine,
From my mind.

It’s bright, not blind.

Just the other world.

Danny Sugerman told you so,
That you said:

“Please, please,
Listen to me children,
(Of God).”


Oh, America,
I got the plains,
Of you,
inside me.
I brought it with,
Me, at the plane.

I did never leave you.

A Chief left us.

But his words did not,
Leave U.S.

His Christian grave.
Angels received,
Into the Kingdom of forever.

Lord Jesus blessed him,

You Indian swimmer,
Of infinite youth.

The ultimate truth,
He explained.


Time passes.

Heroes come,
and go.

You did know,
A lot.

You had things in,
The spot of your light.

You were not the night.

You were holder of the dawn.

All was written in your poetry.
All was said in your quotes.

A lot was right,
Some were wrong.
But you did sing,
An Angel’s song.

Of peace, love,
And eternal life,
Praising God, Jesus,
And all the created.


City of Night (L.A. Woman)

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


L.A. Woman, On The Beat

L.A. Woman, on the beat.

Colored, little, suicide street.
I do light a candle, in.
Every street, of Biblical sins.

Jesus, hanging at the cross.
No one more, does follow the boss.

You made God, into a thing.
Neglected the words, of The Lizard King.

He was humble, in the west.

Trusted, L.A., he loved the best.

He did cry, a joyful tear.
Where did Lost Angels go, that’s what he did fear.

Little photos, no more films.
Adventures, lost, in everything.
Photo shoot, cameras roll.
You have lost an Angel’s soul.

Hollywood bungalow,
No more love, in the bunga-love.

L.A. Woman, Sunday afternoon.

Ten times more crazy, than the moon.

Fire, in the sacred streets.
Swarming highways crowded, no one meets.

Mr. Mojo Risin’

Whom that might be.
Do L.A. ride these words,
Of thee?

Thee are words,

Of Morrison.

Are you fond of,
Your “adopted” son?

Dreams of L.A.

Not so distant,
Dream of L.A.
Did I have,

This night of day.

I saw the streets,
In the summer of love.
The invisible Jesus,
Came as a white dove.

He claimed salvation,

Was close my friend.
The setting sun,

Is not the end.

Though weird, insane,
This woman, she is.
All she longs for,

Are things, she does miss.

She mixes, the sunrise,
It’s night in L.A.
I dreamed that the Lord,
Did come, to stay.

Sun In The West

A sun is going,
To rise in the west.
This place contains,
The worst, the best.

With clear sky,
The blue, no blues.
The desert is hot,
Need no shoes.

A legend rises,
Up in the hills.
The coming of The Lord,
Replacing the pills.

This City of Angeles,
Lost all they are.

Praise the sun, in the west,

Not an asphalt star.
God Bless,
Every lost Angel.

Of Los Angeles.

High Heels of Venice

High Heels, of Venice,
Forever summer,

Setting sun,
Setting the beauty,
In that year of,

The ancient sixties.

Hold me close, harmonica.
Hold me closer to,
The blues.

The news hit me back then.
Posters of icons.
Fully alive,
Above high heels

Of Venice.

If I Were To Capture (The Spirit of L.A.)

If I were to capture,
The spirit of L.A.

I would turn on the radio,

And drive the free, highway.

I would wave my hand,
To the car next door.
Feel freedom, jailed,
Like never before.

I would be in the cradle,
Of where all does start.
Would I only do my living,
In the name of art?

If I were to capture,

The spirit of L.A.
I would kneel, for the sky,
And start to pray.

Hip In L.A.

Hip, take a dip,
Into the Venice ocean.

Santa Monica,

Beverly Hills.


Dressed, from Mars.

Hello, I love you.
Hello, I despite you.

I see you hope,

Behind all modern dope.

Do you cope?

You have to!

I Cry With You L.A.

I cry, with,
For, and to you, L.A.
Jim wanted to escape,
And so well, stay.

These crowded streets,
Of hills

Commercial, TV,
Lost Angeles, again, pills.

So darn good,
God has lost his way.
The City of Night,
Is the City of L.A.


Rising Sun of L.A.

Rising sun,

Of L.A.
Church of insanity,
Forgot how to pray.

A sun is setting,

In the west.

A new one will rise,
Inside my chest.

In the jingle-jangle,
L.A. morning.

You come to follow,
The very first person yawning.

Crazy streets,
Of cars, and bars.
The Gypsy poets,
Are holding the stars.

In L.A.,

My beloved bro.

This city gave you,

The most, I know.

City of Night
So free, in mind.
So closed up, in heart.

Se self secure.

So afraid.

Roam in the streets,
Lost Angels.

Hug each other,

Leave everything behind.

Cry and dance.

The summer rain,
Will come to you.
The summer rain,

Will make you feel,
The Sun, in your soul.
Not only a skin deep tan,

Or a vision, to the eyes.

It’s where it all starts, inside of you,
My dear.

L.A. Woman.

L.A. Woman

Well, I just got into town, about an hour ago.
Took a look around, let just freedom fate wind blow.

That Gypsy look,
Of painted eyes.

A painted movie.

Letters, light up the sky.
Do they say hello, or a silent good bye?

Cops and cars.
The ancient stars.
The hippest bars.

Jazz Kerouac.

On the road,

On the beat.

L.A. Woman,
In every street.

What do you tell me woman?

Another Lost Angel?

At certain cost, asphalt,
But the desert is close by.

The stars invite you, to dance,
The Ghost Dance.

Show your teachings, to the suburban blues.
To the tango streets.

Show it to everyone!

Because, everyone is you!

This Night In L.A.

These orange lights,
Of your neon harmony,

Clear about your soul,
You are.

Tender, soft,
Open for opportunities,
You always have been.

Your beautiful state of being,
Is written in the starry sky.

This night in L.A.,
I wish it would never die.
This night in L.A.,
Is beautiful.

Indeed L.A. Woman.


The Door Poem

By Robert Moritz-Olsen
In memory of Janelle “Emma” Preston (1948-2015)


There is a way,

To open the door.

Witness from within,
Deep in the core.

Go inside,
And out you will come.
Within you,
Is the scattered sun.


The Door Within

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



You have walked through many doors,

But not through the door within.
Until you do pass through it, my friend,
You will live in darkened sin.

This door is one, behold it,
Travelling an inch, inside of you.
If you do not go to see it,
You will never break on through.

The first step, is the strangest,
The blind unfolds, to see.
Of courage, you will name it,

By hand, you got the key.

You will stand alone, in glory,

See what others, do not see.

Once the door is open,

You are thrilled, for just to be.


The heart is moving,
The soul does rise.
Amounts of love,

In the inner Paradise.

I just am,

The being of.
Inside of humans,
There is only love.


If the door of perception,
Is open and wide.
You will feel the infinite,

Soul inside.


Each Day An Indian Summer

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Each day an Indian Summer,
all year through.

The feeling I got inside,
I will share with you.

This dawn inside the colors,
of the setting sun.

Life is an ancient celebration,
for each and everyone.

The feeling is eternal,
live it by the core.

In the Indian way of living,
you don’t need a door.

The elders do invite you,
to understand the secrets of youth.

The elders do behold it all,
they do know the truth.

The plains are calling for you,
as well your loving tribe.

It’s in the Indian way of living,
The Creator’s truth does hide.


The Eden Groove

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


You are often moved,
but you never do move.

Until you get,
‘The Eden groove’.

Look at life as God’s Eden,
and you will be kneeling.

Provoke reverence,
to all that you are seeing.

Then the best part comes,
you will start to bloom.

Like a flower,
your soul,
comes out of the doom and gloom.

At once you see it,
you will start to feel it.

You do realize,
you never knew it.

And the greatest drug,
of them all.

Comes to you at the moment you fall.

Flat for Eden,
flat for God.

The wine will start,
to flow in your blood.

Feeling The Garden of Eden,
is nothing but drugs.

And your soul you do feel,
is like eternally hugs,
from God.


Everybody Is Afraid of One Another 

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Everybody is afraid of one another.

Even their own sister and brother.

That is what Jim Morrison says,
in “Hyacinth House”.

Do you really know your own spouse?
Everybody has traded their feelings,
for a mask.

Opportunities pass them by,
that they don’t grasp.

If you don’t dare to live,
for sure one day,
you will die.

At your deathbed you will panic,
because you lived a lie.

Kind of dramatic,
these Jim Morrison words.

But you look at the sky,
and you are jealous at the birds.

That could be you,
you know that is true.

But truth given by God,
is only for the few.

step out of your role,
don’t hide in a hole,
live your life,
show your soul,
then you will be whole.


Everybody Knows About Jesus….Beware

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Everybody knows about Jesus,
The end times,
for sure,
is here.

Everybody knows,
about right and wrong.

Everybody will be judged,
for what they have done.

In every corner of the world,
it is all set,
and clear.

Good ones are protected,
the evil ones should live in fear.

When The Son of God,
comes from the sky.
You were aware of your choices,
you will live or die,


First Flash of Eden

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



First flash of Eden,
Waiting for the sun.
The world in glorious light,
We have lost God, and the fun.

Naked we come,
And bruised we leave.
Something has gone wrong,
With Adam, and Eve.

These plains, of Eden,
Met in rivers four.
God came in and out,
Of our ancient door.

So, now I break the bread,
And offer you the wine,
Words do enter hearts,
Passing through the minds,
Into your souls.


Adam said to Eve,
Sun today,
Thanks for the loving night,
Of pure naked love.

The food of desire,
Made me enjoy,
Your naked love.

Give me a hug,
We need some fish,
For dinner.

Our house is warm,
We live in a warm land,
Among sisters and brothers.
Pure unbounded joy.


Sailing the river,
Sailing the life.
Holding hands, the gift,
From God, my beloved wife!

Simple, in the night sky,
Telling all, is untold.
My life is pure, eternal,
Forever young, not old.

We gather in the night,
We do watch every star.
We feel that God is close,
Not distant, or not far.

So happy this day, lover,
Let us go to sleep, and rest.
The sun does rise in the east,
And does celebrate in the west.


I dreamed this my lover,
Warning from above.
He said we will lose it all,
And forget about all the love.

He told me darkness, rules,
In the four corners of the world.
Thousands years of waiting,
Before Eden again, unfurls.

I cry, and all is sadness,
The darkness, that might will come.
Will all the clouds just cover,
The loving scattered sun?
So, this dream is future,
I am sad, my lover Eve.
Was this just a dream,
Or, should I sad believe?


Daytime, but I recall,
This dream of him, The Lord.
I do my Eden duties,
My hunters, come on board.

Some food we need for dinner,
Cracking jokes of joy.
The children too is fishing,
Laughing ship ohoi!


The dream,
Was right,
The night,
The light,

The world, is a hell.

Lost is first flash of Eden.
Adam, Eve,

No sun.

Waiting for the sun.
Waiting for the son.


You are born,
Naked, divine.
In your eyes, God,
Does shine.

But insane,
All does turn.
No sun,
The earth does burn.

The pristine,
Will be gone.
No children,
Under the sun.

You pray,
For the sky.
And all life,
You have to buy,
To be satisfied.


Thousands of years,
Thousands of tears,
Thousands of fears.

I do see a change,
The world we forgot,
Is within range.

Waiting for the son,
I hear him
I see him,
Though it is totally dark.

Only one star,
Left at the night sky.
It says:

“You soon will be.”


A small light,
For all to know.
It might does spread,
I tell you so.

What went wrong,
Under the sun?
All is here, none is gone.

Go real slow,
The more you will sense,
And know.

Free minds, in a much slower pace,
Are the salvation,
For the human race.


People, wake up,
One by one.
Catch the wildfire,
Of God, and the sun,
In your feelings.

Three weeks,
(True redemption),
It will take, in the four,
Corners, of Eden.
North, south, east, west.
The rivers of the world.
Again, will meet,
Going to the gate.

The Garden of Eden.


We learned a lot,
The Garden of Eden.

Life appeared to us,
In a way poets,
Only could describe.

I embrace, the world,
With an open hand.
I watch the scenery,
Of The Promised Land.

Deep unbounded joy,
We hold hands.
All people like it best,
That way.

Let us pray with God,
Not praying for him anymore.

The book has been fulfilled.


Hollywood Bungalove

By Robert Moritz-Olsen
In memory of Janelle “Emma” Preston (1948-2015)



High in many,

One answer,
Many ways,
To the one solution.

Go in, come out!


Cinema crying,
Stop lying,
Stop dying.

Oscar Statue lives,
Red carpet,

All of them,
One message of the sun.


Of labor of love,
Expensive shoes.

True art comes,
From Hollywood.

If only Hollywood,
Discovered itself.


Verbal guns,
World seldom,
Has seen,

All for fun.
A wise mess,
Of life.

You are not only history,
You live,
Like a framed legend.


Avenues of asphalt.
Green gardens,

Birds singing.
Art brought,
Out of the constant sun.

Sun burned.

Full of energy.

Born in a Hollywood Bungalove.


Sands of L.A.

A desert beach.

Water, sea,
Just be.

Cool cat,
Gazing dogs.
Heart, beach,
Within reach.

The desert is everywhere.

Do not get tempted,
By evil.

Walk hands with God.

He is an oasis.

So you be too.


Party, wine.
Myth of thine.
Stars, and fancy cars.

But so full of soul.
All to rise in Los Angeles,
With the heart of Hollywood.

A Hollywood party.

I met you overseas.

I feel you.

I see you.

And you feel that.


If You Want To Open The Door

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


If you want, to open the door.
You have to clean up the mess,
deep in the core.


Indian Summer

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


“The Crystal Ship”

The Indians did not need any social ward.
Each one was a sister, each one was a brother.

The Indians did not need any institutions.
All institutions are the proof of. .lack of one institution..
Neighbor Love..

The Indians did not need countless forms of art on their walls, like pale skin.
They lived their lives as true art, in every step.

The Indians did not need any book of written laws.
All the white mans laws are lack of one law, the one the Indians lived by with heart, ..Love.

The Indians did not need any money
..All were given free from Mother Nature.

The Indians did not need the word unemployment.
There was always something to do, in the meaningful loving spirit of tribe, to create something of value,
..without money.

The Indians did not need any distant God.
..They breathed his name in every breath of, day to day living..

The Indians did not only look two years into the future consequences, of actions, like the Great Chief of Washington did.
They looked into eternity in every present action of life..

Recall yesterdays tomorrow today
..I’ll drop a line

Indian Summer

Are there any indians here?
Are there any indians here?
Are there any indians here?
Let me take you to the land of the fair


You can remember something new
The dream has stopped


My heart’s at peace, peace on fields
that real dream non fantasy is helping me to understand
the word God, with a presence beyond words
me a person with a life in Paradise among
fellow friends, brothers and sisters
we are stepping into the Indian Summer

Indian Summer

sitting in the grass, next to life, next to wife
from here comes here into our souls
life fresh water coming from the mountains of wisdom
Everybody’s born, everybody got this wisdom.
this wisdom is rooted in our souls in
a tribe of Modern Indians
the answer is given: “Life!”


Life in life
is ours
to share and evolve in
We are one with paths
of loving craft work
walking art
in our happy hearts


Sun is having a good time seeing
we all live in harmony with ourselves
therefore each others
smile that clear pure eyes,
heaven is carrying the warm soul of
the sun
a joyful feeling
a joyful way
a smiling kneeling day
blue sky meets spirit winds
together they ensure that this is
the way it is
always will be
how we are made
walk that dance
that’s the ways of days
that’s the ways of life
how it’s made
pure innocent an almost explainable
wings that sharp eagle made of sailing on the breeze


Hands touching
hearts feeling
laughter roaring
living does not
wonder too much
life fills up our
bonfire, Indians
without taboos
that’s who we are



I watch life this eternal sunrise and sunset hand in hand
life seeks itself
and it fills up each day
with a light of
a sun that never
sets in
an Indian Summer


I know and knew
and will certainly know
a seed, a tree
again will grow
Laughing nights
and smiling days
joy is strong
in many ways

Rolling thunder
belly laughs
roll on floor
that’s how we walk

At ease
a flowing river wine
this true love
does not make blind

Seasons change
but that’s the way
we accept it
from break of day


Snake of sand land
I play with you
feather soul makes you calm

child of sun
wisdom of moon

got free divine and moody relaxed
radiating vibrations
from an eternal deep in your heart

once a prey
now praying to the scenery
you see with the two inner eyes

all animals relax in
our presence
and made us discover
the true art of being
in harmony


My normal me
is feeling special today
and the day after
this day.
That feeling being normal
special makes us feel vivid
each person special, that is normal
for us

Gathered in
the center of our
town, centered in
our hearts. We
burst into a smile
another day filled
with history
and more to come..


Dear Sun, you are showing
me your Golden light called life
many paths all paved with gold.
Eternal types of living
freedom, that eagle left his freedom
feather in my heart to always
remind me of my wings.

Speak and touch
our father wind
with your wings.
That is the only language
he wants you to
And you sailing on the breeze is his gift
to you


There’s divine wine
in my blood, got
it from love

love is an arrow
and its beauty
is made for
Love for life
and love together.

We have its
inner core feeling. Excitement
and a forest of

outside town
and we see
hill is thrilled
with our native


Next to fire
I can see
the tribe is enjoying
its warmth and light
circle of women
and men

we are us
and they are we

joy is not only
a word, but a
way of living next
to this fire we

too close.. too burned
respect is

we also got it
my friend, I can
see the bonfire shine in your
eyes. That makes me happy
I’m among them
I’m alive


Indian Summer (I love you the best)


Velvet light
happy night
other side
a funny commentary
into the creative
days and nights
of these
full flowered
of an eternal vision.


Impressed loose
rest in tents
all satisfied
this drama
is non-drama
a memory of
negro nights have
evolved to its
full potential
thousands of years
have finally 
found its peace


Whiskey vision
has turned into
Kingdom has come,
to settle happiness
clear off clouds
yes, rain happens
air is weeded
signals to the
creator, we have
found our hands
holding these
grains of sand(seeds), throughout
the whole universe.


Up, stars
down, ground
feet rooted
hands spreading
joy telling the
stars of the night
we are trees
wise in every leaf
wise in every
breath of soft
deep belly feelings
’cause knowing,
’cause showing
our healed subconscious hearts.


You came with native sunrise love
into my life, might to be forever into love
I’m watching you absorbing the sun, that is shining
at your tribal face.
To me the breeze within breeze, gives me
a total fulfillment only the creator can give.
That sudden destiny of meant to be meeting
Rise…. Raise your cup, and I will do mine.
Celebrate the moments of tribal joy and
boundless suggestions
This is meant to be, therefore I ask you to hold my hand.
In the land of mysteries and immense respect that is told
in this right moment of forever.


When two feathers are married together,
they turn into
each wing on an eagle of love,
which rises and takes them
on a journey, the love, floating,
flying-through scenery.
The freedom given to a pair of feathers on one awoken
bird. Love bird, the sky is filled
with freedom.
For you to experience.
Each moment of traveling is home on your journey.


The mystery of life turns into magic, that exceeds life itself, when two burning flames share closeness and reach heights, that would never appear without the power of unity of two flames. The burning love is blessed because the intimacy which gives a magic spellbound height, a twosome fire happens only in marriage of two flames, once that were searching, now this special, magic flame is only to be found in love. Love between two, is the magic core of the mysterious life. The love reaches the creators eyes of the heart, with a complete picture of what is meant to be. Love, in the fields of Mother Earth, is sent to him with the breezed hearts of two Indians. The smoke signals reach him from the fires flame, which these signals only can send earth experiences to heavenly fields. The eternal message of love is long lived, infinite. A true taste of earth, is now in the hands of the creator.


Tea, self confident.
Smiles are shared between our hearts my love.
I love you the best.
Better than all the rest.

Can’t sleep, celebration of
the night. The woods got an invitation
croon of souls sounds. Sweet late summer berries, naked,
wild, free. Deep mystery beneath the moon.
Laughing, tired, singing to the moon
which draws us into soft
craziness of dancing on the hillside. Tired my feathered friend.
Come on, stories are meant to be made.
Grab that apple, and bite it. Ha ha

Pretty annoyed, to sleepy to be scared birds, of our irritating presence.
They watch us and send a thought of, please be silent.
Gentle my friends, we might WAKE THEM!
Ha ha, my little moon speaks to me.
The man in the moon.
Ha ha, The moon in the man.

Hey, my crazy brothers and sisters, let’s go back to the camp
We might not wake somebody up.

Camp, silent
And lovely silent.

Tent, my cosmic mate
waits for me
Pretty naked love
Life is good!

Indian Summer(I love you the best 2)


Wind in heart
breezes of all
times are
blowing within
these cool bodies
called children of
the sun

Symbols are
given to know the
circle of life.
Wild child is dancing
in the sign of the
sun. Aware, awake
the freshest
possible way of
being, looking
at the blue sky
dancing on the
olid soil of
certain uncertainty
How’s the weather, feather?
Smiling shining
eyes, just like the sun

Children of the
sun are playing
non-stop serious games
without boredom
Meet, heartbeat
souls have
entered our bodies
seeds have turned
into trees where
have built their
nests of freedom


We are wilderness. We are wild flowers. We are flowered,
kind, gentle, loving, mild, empowered with laughter and joy, placed
in our individual spot, with a silenced destiny which spices the tribe
with diversity.

A complete picture, filled with individuals that shine blooming love that
rises the tribe-spirit, in a peaceful laughter, which you can hear in harmony
feasts and natural stillness. Barefoot, tender touch of step by step path that is shared
with total harmony with each other.

Wilderness, a safe jungle of flowers, not dangerous.

Wilderness, the root is the
silent sun within us. We feel
this sun in safe connections, of mild flowered hearts
a silent swarming energy, that silences all doubt
even in laughter, found in an Indian wilderness of joy.


With these born eagle-wings
with a vision that can see infinite fields. This happens in
the upbringing of that sharpened
claws that have learned to use feather-wings only in
common togetherness.
This power feather-freedom we have inherited from nature is
behold, and shall be in deep respect of
the love in those clear eyes.

This freedom is filled with path where
the streets have no names, the open
vast sky. Forever possibilities
of footprints, that have been
encouraged by grown wise owl-eagles
to not be scared of.

You reach heights from the very day you are born.
Wings small, adore your present and future.
This is what you have been taught,
and what you have learned.
Learning to fly.


It’s a good
day to live, a
good life to live
a good feeling
to feel, and a
pure acceptance
of the creating
moving, painting,
evolving picture
called life


Alive, made a
song, made a poem
made celebrating moments.
All is important
to create. Joy is
followed by joy. A
state is built from
day to day, enlightenment
close to people, free.

Beautiful music.
Beautiful laughter.
Beautiful jokes, and soft lies
Smiling shining eyes around the fireplace.
Art and music made us discover
the voice of God, a remembrance when we missed the flame of joy and laughter.
Now art embraces us and makes
the fire reach higher than the flame in our
divine bonfire.
Art is the remembrance of the present past
and our present tomorrow.
Art is spoken, said, sung, and painted
and sculptured in all the ways we also did the nights of modern yesterday.
But remember that a word said in a common way is also art.
That spontaneous small talk and laughter 
which fills the nights and days with artistic equality.
Art makes an even change in us and is trusted throughout forever lives.
Feather was moved by the breeze of art, and moves now like a river,
once that was frozen.

We are laughter
We are tales
We are told
In art.


Tent, a family
in the family,
but the same it
is and are
All people raised
by tribe of Joy
mother, father, child
happy for our
many relatives
brothers and sisters
everywhere! Take

Wild child
cool face
true face
new face
never know
always secure
and surprised
what a thrill!

pure sun
pure fun.


Indian Summer(Bonfire Ghosts)

Bonfire, speak poetry
speak holy flame

I see an ancient Indian
in the silhouette of the smoke
from the bonfire
He is peace
and is present in this vision
where he guards the true way of the creator

He is enjoying his peace pipe
see him
and we are present
in what we are going to long for
when we’re dead

This holy river is wished to be remembered
by the poetic life and death

Next night visited by our vision starter
see him in the bonfire
his ghost is present
checking out and laughing happily together
with us

These two ghosts are the main symbols
to rest our guarded world of the Indian Summer

Traveling without going anywhere
each single day and night..


Diving into our fellow friends
and family..


The fields are the same each year, but
the flowers and grass are renewed all the time.
That to fill us up with thrill, and flowered excitement.
The sea is constantly moving, within these new flowers.
The sea lives in this river, that is expressed each spring,
which comes sailing everyday with surprise, in this life
called river of sea.


You lightning Solar Power of eternal
life giving love, with your mild flame.
Gives life to Mother Earth. We, to be like you.
A proof and reminder of our forever happy hearts

I give you a historical smile, feel
the infinite dawn of yours.

You sail the sky, to be the mystery
we might never solve.
Invites us to dance, to grow as roses, strong, with
earthly love, that flows powerful
in our hearts.

You are stabile in your living, made us like you.

We can’t stare too long into your eye,
but we can stare lifelong at the created.

Freedom is what you gave us, you said :”Learn to forget the night”,
and remember you in an experienced forever,
from eternity to eternity.

You give us a soft shock, that bring us to our natural knees, and make us forget the wows of yesterday night. The Sun.


Fat Old Sun,
behind the sun
giggling. That large
belly of yours gives an echo of
laughter through timeless time,
and space. Fat Old Sun.


Is happening

Old laughter, old laughter
We’re coming to you

Old laughter, old laughter
Our dreams a now true

Old laughter, old laughter
Came out of the blue

Old laughter, old laughter
The old and the new

Old laughter, old laughter
Finally you
Finally new


I can see, that you can see the creator
dance in the air around the company of Modern Indians
around the bonfire.
The creator is visible for earthly eyes and
It becomes like an answer that is given
for eyes words. This is the way the Indian Summer shows
the manifestation of spirit.

This field of energy is shown
in all living on Mother Earth.

We feel the grass
We feel the flowers

That visible invisible energy of tribe is shown for a loving grown heart. We have stepped into these fields of foundation.

Tribe, we enjoy the answer that is given in the


A feast of friends, a giant family. Living the old way, with touches of the new spirit that leads us from love to love. Dancing from day to day, in a circle around that commonness, laughter.
All brothers and sisters are accepted, be like you are. We step out of the tent into true religions answer, love. This Garden is filled with colours, all those colours of life. Animals, birds, fishes, grass, trees, enrich our free hearts with eternal, even more excitement, than being a lonely man. Mankind, man is kind. We close our books, to be opened once in a while, we write the history into our hearts of people, fields, air and God. That long away stay, from The Garden. Children are growing all their lives, into heavens harbour of rest. The joys overlap, the small sadness of diseases and death which are all part of life. We celebrate the light, even the games of the night are not cruel. This is possible, this is shown to us. That security is just to lean back into, and lie in the grass and enjoy. Flowers everywhere, bees humming the funny songs of honey. Laughter is dancing on the grass, the grass touches us with the soft hand of our fathers care for his children. Mother Earth is holding us in her arms caring freedom fields. Grown up to be you are when you are dead. Flowers growing in natural ways, everywhere. Blooming wild, in peace. Forever fields remembered, and built into the hearts of Gods children. How to walk, rather how to fly, total freedom is here without harming someone. It is possible, this is the proof, just watch, live and see. The circle has ended, now it’s a gained halo over our heads. Rest in the days and nights my friends and family. Don’t worry, I will not go
A feast of friends,
A giant family.


Indian Summers
why end. Time passes
and so do all. That is
your way of explaining
yourself Creator. It’s how
It is, and always will be
All of us will be remembered
You will remember us,
And we will remember you.
We meet you both here and
there in the eternal fields.
We taste the two lives you
give us. Both of them, mysteries.
We are in change. Young turns
to old, and old turns to forever Young in the fields of spirits
That wind you breezed in
our hearts. Thank you once
More, and thank you forever
Creator. Thank You. It was an enjoyable stay for us.

(I saw your soul in an Indian tribe, hanging out, smiling.
You threw laughter at us, and made background forces enter Mother Earth. 
You lived and died for us. 
Love you.)


“Found in an Indian wilderness of joy”


Pointing at The Doors

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


To The Other Side, Of Morning (Break On Through)

Day is presence,
Night is not.
It does vanish,
In the spot,
Of the Sun.

Pleasures are counted,
Worthless in price.
Grab the treasured,
Lifelong lies,
It’s not of the sun.

Eyes can tell you,
They do not lie.
You grace the life,
When you say, I die.
Under the sun,

Gate is open,
For whom I tell.
Go for Heaven,
Leave thy Hell.

Crystal Clear (The Crystal Ship)

Crystal clear,
Fully enjoyed.
The eagle’s mountain,
Cannot be destroyed.

Awake, the rush,
Of ecstasy.
I did leave it,
To let it be.

Wonder, wander,
Skeleton, fresh.
I feel the spirit,
In my bones, and in my flesh.

The End Is The Start

My friend, my friend,
Don’t drop down and cry.
The summer rain,
Will come from the sky!

Healing drops,
Of rain, so warm.
A sigh of relief,
What a beautiful storm!

Stillness of rain,
Just washes away.
And lets the most,
Important stay.

Naked souls,
Are here to stand.
Finally one,
Hand in hand,
Across the land.

Wild Child

Why so afraid,
Of an innocent child?
Children are wild flowers,
And wild flowers are mild.

Why so in hurry,
To teach them to grow?
They grow by themselves,
They already know.

Why be so stressed,
To sculpture this child?
You will only find peace,
In the crazy and wild.

Why can’t you let,
Your children be?
Then they will become,
What they ought to be!

A natural child!

When The Music’s Over

When the music’s over,
There is no more light.
Universe is hollow,
And darker than night.

It’s a warning of words,
Dwell by the core.
Take a glance out your window,
You will see it for sure.

Mother Earth.

Take It As It Comes

Take it as it comes,
Accept the single eye.
Fate is hard acceptance,
‘Till the very day, you die.

Specialize in enjoyment,
Put a light on all.
You will sail through life,
From spring time,
And leave happy, after fall.

End Of The Night

A realm is shining,
At the end of the night.
The dreams of remembrance,
Are singing so bright.

The pain, and the suffering,
We are all born, to taste.
Sometimes it feels,
Like a life, full of waste.

The hope in the darkness,
Is the end of the night,
Stare into future,
Into pleasured delight.

We all do hope.

Universal Mind

He was turning keys,
And setting people free.
The ones who didn’t listen,
He just let them be.

He searched for eye salvation,
In each and every soul.
But the only place he found it,
Was in words, and rock n’ roll.

His loneliness was sober,
Though the drugs did rule.
Contradiction fellow,
Baptist, The Holy Fool.

A Little Game

Once he had,
A little game.
When you are crazed,
You will stay sane.

Release control,
Let the soul command.
It’s wild and free,
You’ll understand.

Now you should try,
This little game.
Eternal letters,
Are your true name.

Children of The Light

If you put light at a dark spot,
You have to be the light!
How come you all do call him,
A child of the night?

Dark corners of the mind,
You made us all aware.
You lit up all the places,
So we could fix it all, down there.

So called evil,
But isn’t it a blessing.
To get rid of it all,
That we are suppressing!

Waiting For The Sun

Waiting for the sun,
Ain’t that fun.
If only the God times,
Had really begun.

The sigh of rays,
The endless days.
Live life happy,
In billions of ways.

What went wrong,
You ask for in the song.
The answer:
Don’t be so in hurry,
To put the dresses on,
Your daughters, and sons.

Not To Touch The Earth

Not to touch the earth,
Not to touch your name.
Not to touch the fire,
Within the flame.

Run for the sun,
The dawn of sapphire mornings.
The nest of the tent,
Is in the eagle air, and its warnings.

Lizard quickstep,
Serpent spell.
Gates of here-here,
Do call, and yell.

Burn, burn, rise you sun,
Evening is married dawning.
The mystic river calling,
The very first day, you’re truly yawning.

Escape the luxury,
Of empty things.
Crowned in the naked desert,
Queens and Kings.

Run with me,
‘Till the dawn of day.
The trees, on spirit knees,
Do witness, and pray.

Escape the city,
Leave the town.
There are only us,
To get, the ground.

Wake up, soul mate,
Dive through the Lion.
And measure your holiness,
In the name of Mount Zion.

Top of the hill,
A survey, you will know.
You are the chosen ones,
Inside, it will grow.

I Can’t Drag You Through The Doors

I can’t drag you, through the doors.
You have to walk, by your own force.
There is a force of courage, force of will.
That whispers loud, a voice you can’t kill.

These steps of forgery, you all know them, of yours.
They’re all a mind over matter, avoiding the course.
The pathway to the inner, the light of your own.
 It takes a lion’s heart, to attain the unknown.

These steps, of a giant, tiny at bone.
Will lead you, to always, feeling at home.
This kick of a lifetime, slowly to grow.
Is the core of understanding, what is, just to know!

This walk, is a solitary, singular choice.
It’s up to you, to obey, your inner voice.
I can’t drag you, through the doors.
You can take the easy train, or learn to ride a horse.


Visions of America

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Visions of America,
Seen from a plane.


I see tall buildings,
But small people.

I saw small tents,
But tall proud people.

Ancestors call for,
The wind,

To be silent.

The tents will rise,
In an American Native Paradise.


The buffalo,
Eats the grass.

The wolf,

Howls for the moon.

The Indians cry,
Silent for the free,
Fresh water,
Of memories,
From the river.

Now, the only river,
They do know,
In the reservations,
Is the river of whiskey.

They pay with their money,
And souls.


He had visions,
He heard the old spirits,
Call for him.

He shouted:
“I’m coming out!”

He came out,
Got nailed,
And hailed.

Now dead,
Now alive.

I found his feathered pen,

And I do write.


A large bonfire.
Naked audience,
I hear powwow,

I hear heart beat drums.

The audience,
Has become,
The performers.

They feel free,
They see the bonfire,
Which they dance around.

They feel the warmth,
Of the tribal flame,
And they feel the name,
Of themselves.


At the top of,
The mountain.

Above the ancient graves,

Above the camp.

Visions of America,
Came from above,

Pure misunderstood,


The Garden will,
Become a Garden.

Not a forever sinning city saying,
Forever, I beg your pardon.


Call of the unknown,
The Doors.
Call of the unknown,
The force.
Call of the unknown,
The source.
Call of the ancient,
The horse.

Crazy Horse,

Ride with pride.

A call of the true Eden,

In the heart of America.


Tents, filled with,


Not materialistic things.

Sober gatherings,
Around the fireplace.



Daughters and Sons,
Moons and Suns,
Father and Mother,

Loving each other.



Diving into the river,

Entering the shore.

Under the waterfall.
But at peace.

At ease.


The bands,

Will last.

As the good ones,
Never will,
Be past.

All tribal communities of people,
Beating the drums,
Within our hearts.
God tries to wake us,
Up with rock.



Weird Stupid Scenes Inside the Goldmine

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


If you put Mammon’s gold in your pockets,
you’re stupid,
you don’t get an inch forward,
too heavy.

But if you put God’s gold in your heart,
you’re smart,
you will go light footed through the world,



When You’re Strange

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



When you’re strange,
All seems out of range.

You feel the changes are possible.

Dreaming normal,
Strange dreams,
Are the core of the human mind.

Half crazy,
Is good, not,
Being “Whole crazy”,
In the world,
Of living,
By overdoing an act.

Strange and normal.


I walk the streets,
We all didn’t,
hit the sheets.

We are,
All different.

The enormous,
Of life.

A miracle,
Life is very strange.

Dive into the true nature,
Of yourself.


Who wants,
A strange person,
But the strange?


What is that?

Strangers do dance,
In the woods,
Of mankind.

Obsessed with freedom,
Wild life,
A strange life.


When all is strange,
You’re not bored,
At all.

Life does call at you,
Every single day.

You answer,
With a troubadours song,
A strange melody.


Are strange.
Are strange.
Are strange.

Then you have to understand,
That you are strange,
It’s the nature of the created.

Is strange.
Is strange.


Feeling sad,
Watching the dawn.

You got a friend,
In the strange scattered sun.

One day,
We all will be,
Strange suns.


Can repress you.

You are deep down inside used,
To thrilling,
In the mysterious woods.

Very special,
This living is.

In the woods,
Of Mother Earth,
And your mind.


I call you,
To be reborn,
The free soul,
By dancing.


All lives are strange,
Don’t put me in a box.
I want to change,
I want to feed the fox.

I want to live,
In a natural carnival.
Where all faces,
Are painted,
With one color,
Of the soul,
Invisible light.

It is felt, but you are seeing all.


Pure celebrating,
Free exaltation,

A responsibility,
In every land.

All is different,
All is unique.

What a mystery!
Incredible magic,
Life is!


Children are all,

Be a child of God,
And you will be strange too.

Imagine the freedom.


All you Adams, All You Eves

by Robert Moritz-Olsen


All you Adams, all you Eves.
In front of your hearts,
you hold the fig leaves.
You are afraid to undress,
just being naked souls.
For safety,
you put on a mask,
and are acting out your roles.
The world is scary,
outside of the gate.
But how long will you forsake God,
before it is too late?
Seize your day,
husband and wife.
You got to be naked,
and open to life.
Breathe all life,
in and out.
Be open to all,
that is what it is all about.
When your soul is naked,
it shines like a light.
Just like the sun,
the moon and the stars in the night.
So, undress my beloved ones,
there is nothing to fear.
God is good,
that is why Eden is here!

An Ancient Door

By Robert Moritz-Olsen

An Ancient Door

An ancient door,
In front, of you,
A key, you got by hand.

These steps, are thrilling,
You made it through,
To this unknown, blissful land.

You have heard the tales,
So many times,
Now, they are real to be.

For every step,
You walk, it chimes,
The silenced, bells of free.

This music, you hear,
Is ancient, new,
Never heard before.

You cry out joy,
Feel the morning dew,
In front of an ancient door.

King of Kings

Jesus is,
The King of Kings.
The Bible captures,
Most, of things.

Literal codes,
Answered to be.
“Forgive, do not judge”,
Will set us free.

These metaphors, of tales,
So true, they are.
Jesus is,
The brightest star.

If only we could,
Take his words, to heart.
When all things end,
Something new, will start.
Plains of Eden,
Kingdom lost.
His words are given,
They have been tossed,
To US!

I’m Gonna Kick You Out of The Universe

I’m gonna kick you out,
Of The Universe.
Your evil deeds,
Make your fate, a curse.

Married with darkness,
You’re gone, and done.
How dare you, to walk,
Beneath The Sun?

I’m gonna kick you out,
Of The Universe.
I assure you, there is,
Nothing worse.

Open The Door

I grab the handle,
Open the door.
This is a place,
I have seen before.

Glorified halo,
A place at rest.
Hidden deep,
Inside my chest.

This door of salvation,
One step, going in.
The times, of forever,
Are bound to begin.

In a glimpse, of remembrance,
I am crying again.
These are tears of joy,
My dearest friend!

The Universal Doors of Perception

Tune into stars,
At night, in the fields.
Feel at one, with cosmos,
And withdraw, every shield.

Greet the sun,
At dawn, with your soul.
That rising energy,
Complete,to be whole.

Enter the fields,
The spirit, in green.
Feel infinite life,
In a once, before, hollow screen.

Close your eyes,
And open your mind.
You can see the invisible,
A state, of no blind.

A Wide Open Door

A wide open door,
Shines with warm light.
A tempting alternative,
To the cold, black night.

An enclosure of pain,
Anxiety, and sorrow.
Today is what is here,
No, wait for tomorrow.

A sigh of relief,
A redemption, to sense.
Beyond all beliefs,
So Godly, immense.

Drop down your shoulders,
A prayer at knees.
This problem, is solved,
A mystery, at ease.

Did not know existence,
Of this divine like domain.
Your blood flows like rivers,
In every vein.

You can walk through it,
It blindfold exists.
You can smell dawn light come,
Through darkness, through mist.

Desert Trip

Ride the sunken,
Sand snake,
Thirty days,
Into the desert.

You face the poisoned teeth,
And split tongue,
Of truth, is told,
And lie, is done.

Riding the snake,
The scales are faces,
Of ancient people (to this very day),
The times of humanity.

You see them,
You grace and fear them,
Like people statues, of actions,
Good and Evil.

If you have noticed,
On people you know.
Their faces are masks,
In cosmic roles.

Stare into the hypnotic,
Eyes of the snake.

Ride the snake into,
The Garden.
Slip out of the history skin

To the Gate,
The Garden,
Breaking on through to the other side,
Inside of man.

Snakes, are carried,
Through fate of time.

Naked, thirty days done.
Naked, in the warmth of the Sun.
Naked, Paradise, Kingdom has come.

No more pain,
No more insane,
No more tears,
No more fears.
Only divine bliss,
Of infinite happiness,
Created in the picture of God.
Where Good and Evil,
Turns into God.

Back In The Garden of Eden

Beyond Good and Evil,
There is God.
The Holy Grail of Eden,
Is within your blood.

At death, the statement,
Will be earned.
From light you came,
Into light you turned.

At cradle, rest,
In peace, at Earth.
igh, and blessings,
In life, from birth.

The snake who was,
An evil thing.
Our inner peace,
Does safety bring.

Birth to children,
Before,in pain.
Without the traumas,
It flows like rain.

A few apples a day,
Make a sense.
Too many apples,
Make you tense.

Respect for Eve,
Gives birth to life.
Adam is equal,
To his wife.

I open Doors

I open doors,
I got the Key.
See how it turns,
And sets you free.

Behind the clouds,
There is a sunny sky.
These fabled stories,
Just passed you by.

There lies freedom,
In an infinite land.
Where the smallest thing,
Is true and grand.

Beneath the sun,
From dawn to eve.
There is nothing more,
To achieve.

I open doors,
I got the key.
It is time to feel,
All things you can see!

The Eden Shores

If there was a beach,
We all could reach.
Standing there speech-less,
With our inner, natural beauty,
Seeing the outside, infinite,
Glory of God.

Being totally nude,
No one is rude,
Everyone is a dude,
Or a trusty soul mate.

So, here I am today,
I bow down, and I pray
And please, let me come your way,
Showing you The Eden Shores.



City of Angels

By Robert Moritz-Olsen
For Janelle “Emma” Preston 


Mr. Mojo RiZen

Got to rise,

In the tradition of Zen.
Repeat the mantra,

Again and again.

Got to keep on risin’,
So be dawn, so be sun.
Belly laughter,
Breakfast fun.

A feast of friends,
With a troubadour.
Creating music,
That will always endure.

Groovy L.A. moon,
In the end of June.
Get the lady,

Sad and shady.

Smile despite,

An evil world.
Realize the dream,
Get the girl.

Jazzy headline,
Mushroom grow.
Sacred fire,

You want to know.



Hollywood, L.A.,
You got the blues.
Can’t afford,
Maggie M’Gill’s shoes.

You’re stoned, by stars,
Struck by light.

All come together,
n the City of Light.

Coming down,
The river hill.
Got no tricks,
But gives you a thrill.

Gives you goodness,

Demands no cash.
He owns the words,

Endless stash.

He shakes the hands,

Of the rich and the poor.
Share what you got,
You’ve heard it before.

Light, camaraderie, action!


I sit down,

Close my eyes.
Deep inside,
There are no lies.

There lies a land,

A shortcut, to, ok, bliss.
Zen is medicine,
I tell you this.


I got into the town,
The smiling people down.
Teeth are white,
In the neon light.

I am so, dear lady,
Deep in your soul.
I’ve never met you,
But I know why you roll.

I got into the town,
About a decade ago.

Words travel faster,
Than me, you know!


You say Jesus,
But do not do it.

You love God,
But do not feel it.
You smile to the sun,

But do not share it.

You are successful,

But can hardly bare it.

Jesus Christ roams,

In the streets of L.A.,
He whispers in the wind,
Soon there will be day.


City of Angels,
Broken down.
You feel the light,
It does not shine at the town.

Kindness, silence,
Is the only way.

Close your eyes,
It will come your way.

You talk about Jesus,
But do not walk his word.
The sky is so blue,
You are a bird.


Love thy neighbor,
Do not hate him.
Love thy neighbor,
Do not sue him.

Love thy neighbor,
Travel into hearts.
Invite your neighbor L.A.,
That is where salvation starts.

Love thy neighbor,
As thyself.

All art is screaming these words,
From your intellectual bookshelf.


Cool To Be Son of The Sun

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


It is cool to be Son of The Sun.
To shine on each, and everyone.
It is cool to be, deep like Jim.
And always being happy,
never grim.
The Lord has blessed me,
forever and more!
He gave me a key,
to unlock the door.
I forgive you,
on the spot.
God is harsh,
he does not.
So, go out in the world,
sin no more.
Do not be a spiritual whore.


The Day You Open The Door

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


The day you open the door.
You will be stunned,
in an eternal awe.

You will pray on your knees.
The moment you feel,
the inner breeze.

You will think,
what is,
it has always been.

You have been sleeping,
in a darkened sin.

So, the first step,
has to be done by your heart.

And you will know,
the walking art.

All is Eden,
Eden is all.

Your heart will bloom,
the day you fall,
flat for The Creator,
and The Created.


Do A Little Bit Like Jesus

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Do a little bit like Jesus,
and it will help a lot.

I am aiming at all of us,
we are all in the spot.

Try to hate a little bit less.
Too much hate,
makes a mess.

Try to learn to forget, the evil scars.
That other people caused,
we are all made of the same stars.

If we all did a little bit like Jesus,
just a few inches of change.

Kind Heaven at Mother Earth,
will be within range.

We can never be just like Jesus,
he was way too smart.

But he explained so simple,
to us all,
how to make,
a brand new start.


The Doors of Perception
& The Poetic Key

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


The Doors Of Perception

A promenade in the mind,
A journey for the soul.

A heart opens up,
Have only been looking through, that keyhole.

As you put in,
Turn the key.
There will be darkness,
That frightens thee.

The light behind the Door,

Is the light in your blood.
All colors deepen,
Feel the presence of God.

Cleansed forever,
Those moments will roll.
A light in your heart,
Fills all the holes.

Pure made of crystal,
Clean and aware.
Now you see existence,
The moment is here.

Here are roses,

Have you ever seen.
That those fields of this life,
Are evergreen.

Hyacinthus (Hyakinthos)

Hyacinthus was slain,
By Apollo, to bleed.
Accident, darkness,
In the shade, of his deed.

The blood was spilled,

And salted the earth.

Made a flower to bloom,
In a wondrous birth.

His name, to be famed,
Inverted, the blessed.

To enfold, like a spirit,

And accept the request.


Dionysus, blessed us,
Enter thy bloom.
But beware his brutal,
Mad sunken gloom.

His freedom, is held,
As precious as time.
Do not capture lions,
He will eat you, in prime.

This divine creature,

Of God, made of flesh.

He is born, out of myth,
To arise, pert, afresh.



A beautiful figure,
Plays his golden lyre.

Each tune filled with light,
It is all, to admire.

In each single act,
They rise, not to fall.
In whom there is,
No darkness at all.

No false word,
Ever falls from his lips.
His literal work,
At word, never slips.

Apollo’s honor,
That all, may do trust.
God of the light,

Bring us to just.


In Front Of The Gate

Prepare yourself,
For eternity.
In this very,
Life to be.


The Skeleton Key

I do give you,
The skeleton key.
Within the sacred,
Words of me.


Mr. Mojo Risin’ Phrase

Has God shown us,
There is destiny, in a phrase?
Is it a coincidence,
That the letters, fell right on place,

Human race?

Is it an answer, that really is?
Take a note, it goes something like this!

Mr. Mojo Risin’.

”The Poetic Key”

Mr. Mojo Risin’
Mr. Mojo Risin’,
Similar Jim.
It’s math, surprising,

Codes, answered in him.

Kind of coincidence,
That math, did so well.

A strange, crazy, evidence,
At place, letters fell.

Looks like, there is,
Destiny, child.

I tell you this,
Thanks, for being, so wild.

Wild, forever,
I love you, the Proof.
Expect?, I did never,

It came out, of you, Holy Hoof.

Jim Morrison..
Mr. Mojo Risin’

Wherever you are.


Changed (Ode to James Douglas Morrison)

In the swarming streets,
In the air.
Now your soul,
Is everywhere.

From light you came,
Into light you turned.
You were a candle,
In both ends you burned.

You followed the road of excess,
You experienced truth.
You grew old,
In your youth.


Dream Of Buffy Sainte-Marie


Robert Moritz-Olsen


An Indian Woman

Me, a girl,
Turned by time
Fast into a woman.

But I did always
Remain my childlike
Eyes of the Creators,
Created creation.

An Indian woman.

Here is my story.

My Love For All (And Especially You)

I came out of my mothers and fathers tipi.
Strait into your arms,
And boundless love.

You embraced me,
With your strong arms,
Tender heart, and love.

You mounted my heart,
And I did yours.

These plains are,
Ours, we mix and blend,
With all there is.

We are dancing, through,
Smiling meadows.

Ground filled with sun, rain,
Laughter, tears.

My hand is yours.

Do you want more?

You do laugh,
I got all
And the created.
I smile back to you,
And see the sun,
In your eyes.

No matter what,
Time of day,
Years of living,
Moods of changing life.
You are proud to be my man.
And I am proud to be your wife,
Of life.

This is our pride, love!

Tiny Small

I did dream,
This very day.
I want children,
If you may.

You know tiny,
Cute, pretty small.
Once we were,
We know all.

You pick up,
Your arrow, bow.
Says little tiny,
Show me how.

I laughed, and danced,
In a native place.
I cried, and laughed,
I saw your face.

Face of God,
We to deliver.
It’s so mysterious,
It’s joy, you give her.

(Thanks, lover,
Little hearts,
Tipi love,
Is where it starts)

Jumpy Elder

Jumpy elders,
Steady as an old rock.
Smile from,
And eagles place,
Of serious joy.

Something special
Will happen to
You, this very spring,
Of next to be.

Freedom child,
Will be born.
Our tribe will raise the child,
As we have done for forever times.
Like we always have done.
Your child will raise itself, too.

Sun, moon, stars,
Are pregnant,
With the new,
True face,
Of creator.
An Indian Child.

My Little Dog

My little dog,
Reminds me of,
What it will bring.

All kinds of weather,
Are going through my pounding,
Heart of drum.

All seasons my dear.

At night it happened.
I am thrilled,
Of this special fire,
You do bring Creator.

Me and my man.
We, in unity,
Made an image of you.

There are infinite
Faces, which you
Are creating.

I fall down, on my knees,
In spirit prayer.

I pray for my child.

Mother Earth

I am a mother,
On Mother Earth.

Did you come from sky,
My little child,

Few moons more,
Then river will be,
Its pristine, first journey,
Of life.

Just a few moons more.

I feel reverence,
But strong, and
Calm, as a morning,
Of silent summer true blue sky.

An Indian Born

My child,
Easy, you came into,
This world of ours.
Your father has been there all time,
But I was a little caught up,
With myself.

Now you are here,
Tiny little sun.

It’s fun this life.

My man, gives me
Love, and our
Fire melted together
Of ours, are directed
Natural to you.
You will feel it.
No words, just love to be.

Feather tickled your nose child.

It’s just an eagle.
Don’t be afraid.

You Are Growing Like A River

River, river,
Little child.
You flower, wild.

Same as growing up,
Bubbling water.
Little river,
Tiny daughter.

Grow stronger, larger,
With new turns,
Of life down this,
River of life.

Five Springs old

You are five springs old.
Your playful love,
In your eyes.

We are five springs older,
Our daughter.
We do our day to day craftwork.
A special normal,
Way of living, as we do in,
And Indian Tribe.

Play with spirit relatives.
We taught you laughter, and encouraged your laughter,
And how to roll in the green summer grass.
You have seen your parents,
Roll like one.
You know it from us.
And we do know it from elders,
In the tribal circle of life, of the Creators goodness.

Tipi Vision Calls

New dream.

You dreamed it, daughter.

Another child,
On the way.

Into the day,
Called life.
Father, mother,
Happy which have mounted,
The happiness of life.

Son Is Born

Son is born.
Sun brought him to us.
We are four,
Like the winds,
Of these fields,
We do love, and live.

Feathers, lovers,
Of ever known family life,
Among us.

A feast,
We are moved lover,
We move.
The fire calms our son’s,
Infant body.

He sleeps in my arms.

The chanting is for our children, to know.

Time Passes

Growing grass
Picking fruits,
In the Garden.
We stroll,
Hand in hand,
Heart in heart,
Through seasons of
Our lives.

Our spirit stomachs are full,
And hungry at the same time.

Tent, joy,
And small talks,
Between my man,
And me.

Children a sleep,
Deep in their dreams,
Of reality.

Soon, going to bed.
Sleep well my man.
Love you.

Your eyes tell stories,
So do mine.

I rest in the image, of your eyes,
As I go into night, and another day.


Teens, it seems.

Laughter in jolly,
Belly of mine.
Something funny happened, lover.
We got!

They investigate love outside,
Our tipi.

Hm, reminds me of us.
Don’t you agree.
Sure do, what a smile.

Dinner time, I see them are captured by the free fire,
Of the created, and its giving,

Tender as us, see!


They move into marriage,

Proud, in our eyes.
Stories told.

Hold my hand, lover.

We’re soon to be elders.
But time is still here. Still many
Years. Don’t you feel old, at all,
My man.

By my side.

Our tent is calling.
Tea time.

Daily life, is filled with,
Sun, rain, thunder, warm winds,
And so well, knowing secrets.

We got it all my husband.

Let me rest at your chest.

I can hear, your heart beats.

Still the same heart beat drum.
Ain’t I right. Ha Ha!

Grand Children

We got grand children.
Me smile, you smile.

Let’s invite us selves, to the hillside,
Which we know so well.
Can, you see the Indian summer,
My dear.

The sun never sets in an Indian summer of life,
Like this.

Hold me!. I lean my head on your shoulder.
My safe, tender man. We kiss, and enter, youth, in ages,
Of no years.
Forever it is.

Trees, wind whispered that taste we love in each other.

I love you so,
Eyes spoke again.

Tell me!
What do you like best of me, my man?

Old Bodies

Old bodies,
Young tales are born again.

Circle of life.

Weakened hearts, we do got, my love.
But strong, in spirit of heart,
And love.

It has grown,
Deeper into the infinite.

My eyes are ready lover, to leave.

We do it at almost the same time.

For us to be.

Are you ready, years in difference,
Does not matter to me.

We never go,
We always come into each others arms.

Forever, forever, fields of,
Only ours, and all.

Love, love,
Forever, I do rest.

Leaping Love

I watch into your eyes,
As our hair, is whitened,
By years, of eternity.

Passing by.

I love, and forever it will be.

Leaping together,
Hand in hand,
Love in love.

Born to be in our death,
Leaping out of our true beloved bodies.

Your eyes,
For eternity.

Our love for eternity.

Us, for eternity.

This is what we feel.

My hand at your cheek.
Your hand at my nose.


Hyacinth Houses


Robert Moritz-Olsen


Build Hyacinth Houses,
in every street.

Tribal healing,
where the neighbors,
can meet.

Social magic,
will unfold.

Humanity is,
a story untold.

Come in and sit down,
let’s travel without going around.

Don’t just explore places,
explore faces.

In others hearts,
you will find the gold,
in the young and the old.


I Am a Guide Out of The Labyrinth


Robert Moritz-Olsen


It is not complicated,
to get out of the maze.
I will open your eyes,
turn it all into a blissful grace.

When i open your eyes,
you will see the labyrinth was never there.
Just an easy harmonic,
simple life,
a river flows through here.

All you complicated pharisees,
with all your cryptic stuff.
My life is simple and easy,
even though it is tough.

The labyrinth was never a labyrinth,
but a Garden of bliss.

Stand up you fool,
and stop to kiss,
my feet.
You can be just like me,
all i offer thee,
for free.


If You Got IQ To Open Doors

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


If you got IQ to open doors,
you will understand my each and every word.
I plant a tree,
divine it is,
and you will be the bird.
You can fly,
and rest in peace,
among the holy leaves.
These words might tempt you,
it is up to you,
to act and boldly seize.
For Mother Earth,
got Her place,
under Father sky.
All is eternal,
do not fear,
your soul will never die,
so fly,
so fly.


I’m Blessed With Eden

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


I’m blessed with Eden,
it seems that nobody else is.

Have you ever felt,
a jewel’s kiss?

Have you walked on the grass,
with your feet, so bare?

And felt life from the grass,
radiate in the air?

Have you ever felt,
that just existing is a kick?

And understood,
that life,
is a magic trick?

Have you ever felt,
the meaning of love?
And felt that Heaven is above?
Have ever felt your eternal soul?
If so,
that is all that you need to know.


Is The West The Best?

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


Is the West the best?
When our children,
are brought up to be a straitjacket’s guest?

Is the West the best?
When we all sit alone,
in insanity,
is that to be blessed?

Is the West the best?
When we can’t fly when we leave the nest?

Is the West the best?
When we think we are always right and never wrong,
but better than all the rest?

Is the West the best?
When we can’t handle the image,
in the mirror,
with the stuff we see in our eyes,
and carry in our chest?

Is the West the best?
When all the true loving visionaries,
are killed or oppressed?

The West ain’t the best!
Get in here,
and we’ll do the rest,
the end,
of the sunlight,
the only thing left is the neon night!

But the sun will rise in the West.
A miracle like that will happen.


It Is A Good Day To Die

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


It is a good day to die,
here I lie,
in my last sigh,
with my great grandchildren,
playing at my side.

The sound of pristine life,
in my last Indian Summer.

I am a happy Chief,
my time is brief.

Old and young together,
is the only way to be,
that make us all feel forever young,
because we feel our eternal souls,
in every single moment.

Elders are leaving the world,
with the sound of children,
at their last breath.

This is the only way to be.



By Robert Moritz-Olsen

Save us!
Lead us off the sad blue bus,
that leads us to misery,
leaders where are you taking us?

The driver is the leader,
leading the sheep,
into an abyss,
forever deep,
to the eternal,
darkened sleep.

But behold,
do not weep,
take a spiritual leap,
into the light of God’s words,
the true poet’s views,
it is news,
for many,
not for the few,
there are weird scenes inside the goldmine.

People kill for gold.
Behold the gold is free!
Have you ever seen the golden sky?
Breathe the gold of God for free,
can you believe it,
and see?

Come on baby take a chance with us,
come to the words of Jesus,
the eternal well,
step out of your Hell.

God has given you all,
heed the call,
of The Bible.

If you do not want to be saved by Jesus’ name,
at least let his flaming words,
save you,
it is possible.

All is good,
if we only nourish our souls,
with Jesus’ words.
no matter what.


Jesus’ Visit

By Robert Moritz-Olsen

Jesus came to the Indians,                 taught them all about life.
They learned about Eden,
how to live without strife.
Then the white man came,
and ruined it all.
What all the Indians,
to this very day recall.
They had eternity in every second,
they did what Jesus did tell.
But everything is gone now,
will we ever heal this Hell?
Jesus had a feather,
he put into their hearts.
They flew like an eagle,                   because flying is the only true art.
We shall live again,
all the Indians do say.
Just around the corner,
Eden will come, to stay,
forever, and more.                               Amen.


Jim Morrison Is A Preacher, Bob Dylan Is A Teacher

By Robert Moritz-Olsen

Jim Morrison is a preacher,
Bob Dylan is a teacher.

Both are capable,
to see, and to reach her.

They understand the women,
they understand the men.

They manifest it almost Biblical,
with a pen.

The Gospel of Morrison,
The Gospel of Dylan.

Covered with dust,
with an ancient spirit,
that is close to chillin’.

The bloodline of Holy Prophets,
flows in their veins.

They are not just poets,
but they got something deeper,
that reigns.

Glowing and flowing,
with God’s eye,
in their words.

That come from other places,
from other worlds.

So, what do I say,
yes, they both, do know it.

Pictures of God,
in the eyes of these poets.

So, next time you hear them,
preach and teach.

Open your door,
and let them reach,

Jim Morrison is a preacher,
Bob Dylan is a teacher.

Both are capable,
to see, and to reach her.

They understand the women,
they understand the men.

They manifistate it almost Biblical,
with a pen.

The Gospel of Morrison,
The Gospel of Dylan.

Covered with dust,
with an ancient spirit,
that is close to chillin’.

The bloodline of Holy Prophets,
flows in their veins.

They are not just poets,
but they got something deeper,
that reigns.

Glowing and flowing,
with God’s eye,
in their words.

That come from other places,
from other worlds.

So, what do I say,
yes, they both, do know it.

Pictures of God,
in the eyes of these poets.

So, next time you hear them,
preach and teach.

Open your door,
and let them reach,


The Last Adam


Robert Moritz-Olsen

The Last Adam,
is your first and only choice.
Can you hear the thunder,
it is God’s voice.

It is summer,
it is drought,
but it will rain.

It will wash off all,
that makes you insane.

You will dance like an Indian,
sing out to praise.

Hug your neighbor,
and know all of God’s grace.

The Garden He gave you,
now you can feel and see.

You will now know the meaning,
of, just to be.

Jesus was in the thunder,
it was raining words.

Some of them were poetic,
from another world.

This is maybe just a poem,
that just has been told.

But somewhere,
in the distance,
the thunder just rolled.

The Last Adam,
is your first and only choice.
Can you hear the thunder,
it is God’s voice.

It is summer,
it is drought,
but it will rain.

It will wash off all,
that makes you insane.

You will dance like an Indian,
sing out to praise.

Hug your neighbor,
and know all of God’s grace.

The Garden He gave you,
now you can feel and see.

You will now know the meaning,
of, just to be.

Jesus was in the thunder,
it was raining words.

Some of them were poetic,
from another world.

This is maybe just a poem,
that just has been told.

But somewhere,
in the distance,
the thunder just rolled.


Los Angeles

By Robert Moritz-Olsen
In memory of 

Janelle “Emma” Preston (1948-2015)



Jim in palms,

The gypsy told.
This newborn city,

Got fragments of the old.

Highways, blue light,
Blue sea, blue sky.
Evening, a gigantic,

Beach, a sigh.

Of the three,
With one on top.

That makes four, the force,
The Doors.


Hey, sunglasses,

Mixed with colors,
You can smell,
the sand,
In the shoes.

You can smell the land,

The hidden blues.

Los Angeles.

Hey, you got wings!

Use them!


City of lights,
All from the soul.
Sun Strip sixties,

Lyrics call,

To listen,

And you will become,
City of lights.


The Holy-wood,

Of Hollywood,
Is burning,
In the dry summer.

Summer rain,
Comes from above,
The high culture,
Of hills.

The Doors,

To plain, sane,


Rode through,

The messy landscape,
Of get to know.


Michael C. Ford,

Hung out with,
The Doors.
He opened them,
In himself.

As well, Fred Chandler does too,
Carries the torch,
Of eternal light,
In places like Beyond Baroque.

A gentle, strong light.

This torch does,

Never fade.

In every word,

The words came out,

Of The Doors.


I call you,
Lazy summer sun.

By the way,
It’s there,
All the time.

Groovy moods,

Of all.

Flavored life.

Cut the crap.

I call you,
Join me in the,
Lazy summer.


Wine in the sixties,
He sits there,
And talks with his eyes,

Walks with his tongue,
And smiles with,

His words.

All for the fans,
The true tribe.


Roll down,
The alley.
Surf through,
The valley.

Mountain, sea,
Sees all.

The evening sun,
Got a name,



Hip, take a dip,
In the Sunset Strip.
Jazzy souls.

Bands that roll.
Poets that fight.
In the neon light.

Love that loves.

Palms that embrace,
The streets,

The new wine.

Los Angeles.


More, More, More


Robert Moritz-Olsen

Everybody wants,
more, more, more.

But they all,
knock at the wrong door.

The right one is,
the one in your heart.

The key,
you will find,
in my art.

How many of you people,
feel that you are really alive?

Put you achievements,
at your side.
Have you ever been naked,
and felt the sun?

And felt God,
have come?

All you people,
in the streets,
going for a stroll.

How many of you feel alive,
let’s take a poll.

But nobody truly raises their hands.
And nobody,
really understands,

But once you do,
you will understand,
every poet.

That it’s all beyond their words,
you really will know it.


The Movie


Robert Moritz-Olsen

All you think and feel, is fake.                         It is already written,
in the Book of Fate.
The tiniest thing,
has happened already.
Hold your faith in God and Jesus steady.  So, just observe what you think and feel. With your soul, and join the real, movie.


The Movie Part 2


Robert Moritz-Olsen

As long as my precious soul is free.

I do not really care,
what will be.

It is just an illusion,
our earthly life.

So, please do not bother,
about the daily strife.

What is this,
that I do tell?

Is life at earth just a predestined Hell?
No, the answer is, to be free at the inside.

If you see this,
your perspective is deep and wide.

Life is nothing but a movie,
put some soul in it!

Then all becomes a real Paradise!


The Movie Part 3


Robert Moritz-Olsen

All words are said,
before they are said.
All actions are done,
before they are done.
Life is nothing but a book,
that has been dramatized,
under the sun.


Native American Chief

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Native American Chief,
Born in neon,
By the sun.

A rainstorm,
Made your soul,

You drowned,
In aloneness.

But no tribe.

The Chief,


Stronger than,

Pushed by visions,
Ancient visions,
Swept over the plains,
Like winds.

The wild horses,
The buffalo,
The Indians,
All felt the winds.

You put it into,
Words of the west.


Clear strong vision.

Far too strong,
It scared you off.

But you dared to dream,
And tried your best,
In the wild, wild,


Did you dream,
About living,
Native American Indians.


No turmoil,
Just safe soil,
Of Mother Earth,
Beneath our feet.


You tried to wake up,
Ancient souls,
Within us.
Wake up!

A thousand times.

Your pen was,
Full of feathers.

Freedom words,
The freedom man.


You saw the,
Tribal feeling,
For all to be felt,
In the future.

At one with all,
You did call,
For our souls,
To raise up,
From the living dead.


Of the strong,
North American Native Indians.

You were crowded,
By the souls of the great Chiefs.

The ancestors of,
You were in contact,
With the universe.


The grizzly bear,
Was bearded.

Fell away from his throne,
To be a total,
Grounded Chief.

In the last days of your life,
A humble Chief.

Worn out,
But still you gave us,
The message.


Rest upon,
The infinite time.
Be revived,
In every rhyme.

You are not dead,
Your words, of the wind.

The feather told,
you to write,
For eternity,
At Mother Earth,
In Father Sky.


You were the first,
Of poetic words,
Who dared to take,
The role of a leader.

A Chief of no time,
Only eternity.


The Only Mantra

By Robert Moritz-Olsen

There is a tree in all                              lives, that blocks for                                  the sun.                                                       

If you cut the branches,                            not much light will                                come.

And it’s tiring to climb                                up in the tree.

To cut all the branches,                             so you can see.

But erase the tree, go                               for the root.

The mantra is the                               answer of all, to erase                             the tree, heed my call.

‘Observe fear of death’,                               if you say that in the                       tradition, with Zen.

All your anxieties will                              end.

Face fear of death, that                              is the only fear, the root                              of all fears.

So, again do this mantra                       while doing Zen.

‘Observe fear of death’                        again, and again.


The Only Mantra Part 2

By Robert Moritz-Olsen

All problems,
are felt like an attack on you.
And all attacks at you,
you get basically fear of death deep, deep inside you.

Then observe from deep inside of you,
with your soul,
and conquer fear of death,
just stare fear of death down,
and it crumbles and disappears.
Try it.
Do it.

Please, please listen to me God’s Children.
You are the ones who will rule the world.
you know the day destroys the night.


Roman Insanity

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



How can you know what to do,
when you do not know yourself?
All is fucked up in the west, living a luxury Hell.
You can analyze,
what the Hell went wrong?
When everybody,
does not have a genuine song.
It puzzles me, how did it come to be?
We are blocked up in the feelings,
but intellectually we are free.
Not the deepest shrink,
can tell you the cause of this.
And we got it all by hand,
but still we all do miss?
Roman insanity roams the streets,
it has come to haunt us all.
Jesus Christ did warn us loud,
it is time to heed his call.
Love, is, the answer my friend,
the only true time light.
But remember,
to be a lover,
is not an easy fight,
in the Roman Empire.



Runnin’ Blue

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



I left the city,
Went astray.
I’m runnin’ blue,
Back to L.A.

The soulful masks,
In Beverly Hills.
Where moods are captured,
In your pills.

I left the city,
I’m back, a sigh.
Won’t leave you again,
Erase “good-bye”.

I’m runnin’ blue,
Back to L.A.
‘Cause I see the beauty,
Will come her way.


All right,
Chronic summer,
In L.A.

Post me a card,
Send it to me.
In the City of Angels,
I will set you free.

So well, as well,
Tribal at screen.
Now listen baby,
To the poet, his dream.


Only dreams.

It seems,
That the beams,
In your genes.

All this means,
There is something,


Cool Lion,
Hear him call.
You are pictured,
On every wall.
Hit the eyes,
Strike the ears.
To rise L.A.,
Face your fears!


Lucky little lady,
Or just another lost Angel?

What is what,
Some is tradition,
The other is not.
Too hard,
So, but,

“Things are ok in L.A.”.

Waves of love,
Not only one wave.
All people at similar time,
The only solution.

Not any stupid revolution.


Into your blues,
Into your shoes.
You feel small, glamour.

All is a bore,

Trying hard.

All is planning,
Every single card you play.

Not the flowing,
But the so called,

You got the word,
But not,
The feeling,
Of the bird.


Hey man,
Not ours,

Afraid of stepping,
On a mine field,
In the fields of fate,
In L.A.


First time.

Beautiful bars.

Oh, I wish,
I could go there.

The cradle,
I solve my carrier,

With a riddle,
Only I do know.


Hair is burning,
Money is earning,
At its own,

No one wins in this game.

Life is not a game,
But her name could be easy.

An eternal name,
Lived in your city,

He did die,
He did not lie.

He left you.

He said good-bye,
In L.A. Woman.

Thank You O Lord

By Robert Moritz-Olsen



Thank you O Lord,
For the white blind light.
A city rises from the sea.
He had a splitting headache from which,
The future’s made.

So then.

I pick up my pen.
The writings will never end.

His headache,
Turned into my thrill of,
Poetry and answers.

Answers that lead us all,
To be puzzled.

Like a Child of God.


The Doors in a plane,
Travelling modern ways,
Carrying the future inside,
A note book.

A pen and a book,
Can change the world.

One man’s words,
Can be everybody’s,
Contribution to some of the truth.

The foundation of youth,
Is in all.

Forever young.


Old Greek man.
You have moved to America.
I see you in all.
In the ornaments of,
Every hall,
Of democracy.
Democracy is good. But also remember the wordless feeling,
Of God.
God is also one feeling,
Not so called symbols,
Of confusion.

Sun is one, it warms.
Stars are many, cold.

God Bless America.

You have gone wrong.
You have gone right.
At the same time.

God undress America.
Only naked eyes, can see.

Don’t be afraid of your,
Beautiful soul of,

Where all starts.



Atlantis, knowledge,
Knowing our inner being.
Structures, and fields,
Of flowers and wilderness.


The architect,
And the poet,
Finally became friends.


Ancient Jesus.

Everybody wants to hold you image,
But not your hand.

Too risky.

How come,
He said all so simple?

Do not judge.
All will be revealed,
In this moment of salvation.

It takes just one day,
Of all people to understand,
Two thousand years of Jesus.
Sit down and listen to him,
Jesus Christ.


Me, you, us, we.

Opening the doors of perception.

The more you think of,
The doors of perception,
The more you want to open them.

Doors can only be opened,
By naked eyes.


World, made out of,

In ancient times words,
Were made out of worlds.

Something happened,
At the first flash of Eden.

We felt, and saw it all.

The Eden Shores,
Are calling us.

We had it.
Lost it.
Lost it.
To be found forever.


Bearded, history.
Two thousand years.
He died at the,

He did seek kindness, and eternity,
Going for the cross.
He didn’t seek financial fortune,
Going for the crossroads.

You can’t serve,
God and Mammon,
At the same time.


The Doors,
Let the unknown,
Become known.

Let the good,
Turn into feeling of God.

Let sadness,

Start anew,

In the warmth of the light,
You need no clothes.

Sun is warm,
Stars are not.

It’s dawn, morning of,
God, and goodness.


Imagine, Mother Earth,
And Father Sky.
You live forever,
You will never die.

Trees, sea,
All there is.
Is given by God,
I tell you this:

Earth – Eden.
Sky– Heaven.


The theater is,
Filled with silent people.

Waiting for their own sound,
Of voice.

It is nighttime,
The actors start the play.

And they say:

“After the play,
Go to sleep.
Dwell at words,
Endless, deep”

Wake up, pure,
Rise with dawn.

Forever more is one lifetime,
Of years.


Pen, friend,
Developed a vision,
Out of what,
Another pen wrote.

Evolution of man,
Is no childish revolution.

You can only take,
One step at the time.

Yes, one step from night,
Into light.

The process has been long.
It is the time of all beginnings.

A free world.


Think about,
The goodness of,
Jesus Christ.

Seven times a day.
Seven times a week.
It will change you,
Into the better.


When The Doors Are Open

By Robert Moritz-Olsen
In memory of Janelle “Emma” Preston (1948-2015)



When you see,
The sun rises.
You are human.

When you feel,
The sun rises.
You are divine


When you,
The immortal soul,
You are drunk,
On God.

Each second is,
A river of wine,
Into the next moment,
Called presence.


You wake up smiling,
And go to bed,
You are living,
In the right way.

This is possible in tribal living.


When you feel,
You witness your body,
With your soul,
You are aware,
Of body,
And soul.

Mirror sees mirror.
Silence is mirrored in the silent water.

When the doors are open,
Within a couple of days,
You are tribal, finally at home,


When you travel,
Standing still,
You are alive.


When you observe,
All from inside,
Is closer than you,
You will feel it.



When the tipies,
Are gathered together,
And housed by Indians,
There are no closed doors,
An open breeze,
Flowing rivers of life,
Knowing rivers of wife,
All be,
What you are,
All be.

You Cannot Petition The Lord With Prayer

By Robert Moritz-Olsen


You cannot petition The Lord with prayer.
When you are nothing but a player.
But how come,
do you pray to the sky so blue?
When all is recorded,
what you do?
You kneel in the Church,
spit on a whore.
Leave her in misery,
and bribe The Lord.
With white lambs words,
and folded hands.
While you destroy,
every tiny chance.
So, pray my dear one,
pray for a another prey.
All you have done,
will come for a day.
So, come to Jesus,
it is not too late.
Love to love,
and hate to hate,
that is your fate.


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