Chimneys

Fishbone patttern.

Wasp ...

... on grilled and marinaded courgette.

Shadows are ...

... getting longer.

Laughing Lhursday

Sheepish egg.

Typo in the title?
Nah. It's just that I would not let a tiny T spoil an avantgardistic alliteration.

... when you dream

Not shot

Hot!

There is no Holy Mother

... and neither there is a god.

Obviously, hm?

Or why do so many criminal bastards reign in such many countries? 

Probably each of them and all (!) their toadies need to die, at once.

Good luck!

The fields of ...

... selfhood.

Scrap dealer's passing

Lucrative job in a throwaway society.
Obviously.
Three scrap dealers each Saturday
are passing the village at walking pace.
One of them twice a week.
The petrol price? Peanuts. Obviously.

Wild beauty

Friday is Skyday

Crossing the road

... or
dancing in the rain.

Brothers in Arms

These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be

Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arm

Through these fields of destruction
Baptism of fire
I've watched all your suffering
As the battles raged higher

And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die

But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms