Turncoat

I am a turncoat

Turning me

And my coat

For Every vim of mankind

Floating around like an

Amoeba in the sea of

High morale ground

You can’t grasp me or catch me

Because my substance is

Nothingness

No Sense

Trying to make sense

But I do not see any point

In doing that

Daily Destruction

So we meet again in the afternoon

To restart out fight

With mental venum

Poison for mutual destruction

Telling each other of our shortcomings

And despicable weakness

Each have our own favorite argument

Slowly breaking us down

But we never let each other go

Chained by thousand different reason

And excuses

We will drown fighting until the

Bottom of the sea

Creation

Creation is a crammed bus

Filled with desperate passengers

Trying to earn a living by selling

Their used tickets

While the bus drives right out

To the dessert

Not determined message

Care, care, care

For others

Care, care, care

For yourself

Reaching conclusion

While it is to late

And watching the ship

Sink deep into the ocean

It will sink again and again

While you are playing

Your own drama on play and repeat

And that is the base for our

Relationship

Lost direction

What am I fighting for?

I do not know anymore

Why or why not

Or where to go

I am just lost on my way

There are so many options

But time do not give any

Peace of mind

Only huge black holes

The power has gone somewhere

Else for its operation and actions

Passed Time

Lost city, left by time

Somewhere at the end of the world

The train is late

Waiting forever

In a loop

While the sun sets

Over the rusty tracks

Weak

The day ended before it stated

A weak light hiding between

The trees and the sky

Dull, tired colors

Changing into black evening

Early in the afternoon

Mind reader

Diving into the mind of my grandfather

Dead since almost ten years

Using the wisdom of Tai Chi and my

Intelligence skills

To become a Turncoat, an amoeba

Floating around In

The mental universe

Of the demented man

Whose God, Newton

Would rule with his rigid laws of traction and

Attraction

Searching his fragmented mind for

The Secrets of the atom and the atom bomb

Or the standing of the planet an evening

In March 1981

At the time when Venus rise 87 Degrees east

I maybe I would find,

surprisingly some hidden knowledge

About a pine tree on a remote island in the sea