The power of insight
Is so great and strong
Inside us,
The non career non caring
Site
Rubber stamp
Projections
Making the journey
Through the city
Filled with cars and concrete
Dirty snow and drug addicts
In the dark corners
Slowly melting away
Leaving the gravel behind
A tired sun behind the clouds
Creating a tepid light
In late afternoon
Ensuring the cycle of life and death
The city break us down slowly
Piece by piece
Replacing and recreating
People and values
While the losers
Enacting people’s frustration
Projecting my their fear and
Frustration into the empty space
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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
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As Well
Life is cold
And Earth is dark
As dark as earth
Should be
The stinking man
In front of me
Screams in his phone
Soon we will all
Be dead
Just like our forefathers
Might be just as well
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One drop
Madness in a bottle
He told me
Just a drop
And it will
Change your Life
Forever experience the miracle
Of universe, meet God and travel
To unknown galaxies
I did the drop
And since then
My legs have been
Itching
A true change
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Ruins
The Word has lost
Their meaning
Only empty ruins
Still stands
Where the theatre
Used to be
Maybe
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Night Fights
The long dark night is here
Agony and fear being present
Waking me up
In the hour of the wolf
Half awake
I am in my bed and cannot run
Freezing in panic
While the monster
Approaches
Opening my eyes
To face the end
But all I see is
The empty void
Of every day life
The dark room and
The warm balmy air
Surrounding me
Telling me not to fear
What is not
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Frozen Ground
This is my land
And it is frozen
Cold, frigid, unfriendly
Built on wrath and frustration,
By determined people
Frugal, sterile land
Of slow living
I was born here
But this land is not my land
This land just bore my weight
I did not grow here
Just barely survived
So I could grow where
I truly belong
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Returning
I live in the north
In the land of small hills
And a lot of trees
Some blue lakes
And a lot of lonely and cold people
I wanted to leave but somehow
I am stuck here
First time I went back it was, Because of the language
The second time because Of my career
The third time out of desperation
The fourth time out of frustration
The fifth time has not happened yet
But it will
This is life in the far north
A place where the ice and snow
Is absent
The place where your soul freezes to ice
Take my advice
Stay out
Schibolet 