The crowds of the city

Has left their dwellings

Moving around in

Disciplined groups

Up and down,

Round and round

Bumping into each other

Fighting for space

Life is slow,

Everything seems to be


Locked in rigid patterns of


Illusions are fine

They are like wine

You drink and enjoy until you

Wake up with an headache

Realising that most of your

Life was a dream

Wasted on the altar

Of ideas and dreams


Waiting for the Great Destruction

Tepid days

Slow moving

Grayness rules

My world of lost

Hope and courage

Nothing to hope for

Just an eternal wait for

Spring and new options

That might never come

Soon the destruction of

Nature will overtake and

Change the nature of this


Only organised

People will live here

Paying a lot of money

For being unhappy

But successful

The world will erase

Their memory

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


All that broken language that fills the air

In between high frequency noises of train

Starting and leaving

Letting off Asbestos into the dirty air

This is not the right location

Music mixes with parts of words

Vague and unclear as in a search for their own

Meaning and purpose

Dirty floors and white light that kills the beauty

Stench mixes with perfumes and rotten fat

From the Hamburger joint nearby

Monitors everywhere controlling but not


Control of every kind is the name of the day

Physical, financial and of course psychological

Illusions likely to break like ice in the spring

Burned House


The war is never an easy thing

Most of the times

Is not like in movies

Distant void noises

Sounds of gunfire from far away

A shell falling here and there

No water

No electricity


Maybe a radio

And darkness

from dusk to dawn

The cold, frigid feeling

That eats your bones

The smoke of the fire

The smoke of cheap tobacco

Follows me

As do the stories and candle light

Indoor mirage

Back in the locker room

Filled with old men

Growling and throwing

Sneaky remarks

To one another

Hastily leaving

For starting another day

I am left on the grey bench

To fend for myself

Blue water in the background

Makes up the illusion

Of a better future

City boy

The day is over

And it is time

To rest

The city changed my perception

Turning good into bad

Beauty into an ugly appearance

One of metamorphosis many phases

The moon still rules over the

Night sky and measures out punishment

For infringes on its territory

Angry men forms mobs and start

Frighten us and other people

Only the rich prevail for a while

Before they go under too

The outsider

Born in the wrong place

At the wrong time

Think the wrong thoughts

With the wrong people

At the wrong places

Makes you the chosen one

To mess up the mind of youth and elders

Just in our little town

On the edge of another era

That will eventually kill you

The cut

The city is full of empty promises

And drunken minds

Poisonous fragrance

Joyous brown and yellow leafs

Moving in the wind

The metro offers dirty

Escapes while

The other are watching

Participating in an abstract


Transmitting the virus

Of attention deficit