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Midnight Poem

The turning point

Was not a turning point

Just a reason to move on

In the same direction

Restless and relentless

Trying to solve

The same problem

The same way as before

The Poem at midnight

Will not tell you that story

Again, sorry

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My Story

My story is short

The message is not important

And very important

Since is me

Me is the center of universe

No one and nothing is more important

I even got an autograph once

Written by a very important author

Whose name I have forgotten

(After all is not my name)

She or he agreed

To something

But I cannot tell you what

All the my energy is absorbed

By thinking on me

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Forest

Happy to leave

The crazy city

Finding peace of mind

Under the gigantic

Fur tree

Like a protection

From an unforgiving

Sky

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Inner Worlds

Building my inner world out of fragments

They are tiny small creatures

Hiding in the dirt of the lower mind

So low that they are not to be seen

At all moving in power circles

Sealing of spaces to protect

Those empty faces yet to be born

Out of the muddy waters of the mind

I am muddy water, I am flesh

I am your fantasy,

I am your projection

I have no face,

I have a face that you give me

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Morning Issues

In the early hours of

Morning, I woke up

Writing

Again and again

misplacing important things

Trying to creat a structure

For

Dealing with the most painful

Things in my life

Debt, conflict

Unresolved Issues

Maturing trying to get

Out of the cave

Starting to feel

The inner strength

This is magic in it’s

Purest form

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Dealing With It All

For a long time

I was Striving to avoid

Dealing with

All the problems

They were so many,

So complicated,

And foremost,

They involved conflicts

Negotiations with other

That I felt so indebted to

But most of all it meant

That wiping up the dust

Making life more unpleasant

Than it already was

In the end

I realised that it wouldn’t matter

And my bad life

Would stay so bad

If I did not try to

Deal and solve

The problem

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Life is a madman’s game

You can play it well

But whatever you do

He sets the rules

They are changing

All the time

When he

Suddenly out of a wim

Changing his mind

You on the receiving end

No one there to support

You all alone

You try to stand

While he is beating

You bad

Then he leaves you in the gutter

This is my game he says

Smiling and walk away

You have to get home

To prepare for

The next day

In the game

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The Mad Gurus Thought

Wisdom is a strange thing

When you think that you

Got it,

You don’t

That is an illusion

Being smart is like killing all the fish with dynamite

Killing everything and everyone

Being wise you have a net with big holes that let

The small fish grow big

But maybe even that isn’t wise enough

Feeding the fish, let it grow is better

But the best thing

Is to stay on

The land

Growing your carrots