End Of The World

When reaching the empty house

At sunset, hiding from the wind

This is where the memory

Of the dead are stored

Names written or engraved

In shells from the nearby

Ocean, people come here to die

It looks like a good place to

End your days in the lilac light

In a foreign country

Remains

History is what remains

Things that is not here

But could have been

What is not happening

As well as what is going on

What we did not do

As well the results of what

We did a long time ago

In Search

I am looking

For my tribe

Being so lonely

In this world

Maybe it is

Gone or never was

The Search goes on

Until I find

Peace of mind

The Hope That Died

I did see my hope

Slowly die in the

Cold and dark

Winter night

First it turned blue

And then red

In the end it quickly

Evaporated into the icy air

Leaving only me and the despair

Behind in the dark blue night

What are we?

In our journey of finding ourself

We sometimes find our self in strange places

Like an old car or very bad bar

In the journey of the self

All of our efforts may be to no use

We don’t know

Still we try

Because the alternative is

Eternal dullness

Making the Journey

This is it

We are here now

Standing looking down the abyss

Down there you have the savage waves

Up here the silence

Down there the roar of the ocean

Should we jump

Or just watch

Open up

Entering the heart of greed

It is very cold in here even

Though the coffee is ok

But my mind is empty and

Open for every impression

Freezing

Putting my energy

In writing these poem

I don’t know anything about writing

I just do it

In a desperate fashion

In order to survive

A little longer

While I am slowly

Freezing to

Death