So everyone is unhappy
Maybe that is how things
Should be
No one is happy the crisis
Is here we cannot go anywhere
Stuck to one another
We have to keep on moving
Until we break down in pieces
The Small Day
So another day
To start, writing, working, fighting
This will be a hot one
Filled with conflict of
Representation, pretending, relating
In the end it will be what it is
And the sea will still be there
A
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The Great War Revisited
I could not stop returning
To the war or forget the people
I met in the city
Still things got more complicated
The good people were not that good
Just human with a twist being in a war
Everything became human and very
Complex,perplex a culture with
Different rule that applied
All the great projects became crooked
Like life itself
So eventually I put everything on the shelf
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The Volcano
Underneath what we say
Underneath what we mean
Is a great volcano
Avoiding that great volcano
Is worth a lot
But if you manage that
You are ultimately
Forever lost
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Crisis Again and Again
Medication Meditation and mediation
The problem is that we have a lot of
The two first and not so much
Mediation
No one talks to me
Isolation, containment
Will never solve anything
As we know
From our history
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The Micro Universe
The small thing determines
Our direction in life
The gigantic world and the minuscule world
Move together in disharmony
Chaos in what looks to be
A perfect order from the outside
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Clouded Oversight
Perceiving threats
From everywhere
There are no safe places
Not even the inner self
Is without betrayal
And lies
I have to hide from my self
Hide from everything
Still staying alive in
This world somehow
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Fragmented Lamentations
What is the deeper meaning
All that infighting
Eternal quarrels
That make up
Our dysfunctional family
The older I get the less wise
More stagnant
More sleepy
Repetition is not learning
It is repeating
With variation
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Fighting Spirit
The conflicts start
early in the morning
Promising a miserable day
Every move and action we take is a
part of a bigger pattern
So is the conflicts as well
It is all in the open to read
Still we go into a
Relationship with open eyes
Blinded for the longterm suffering
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A Stench of Paradise
Just being here
Trapped on a small island
In the wast emptiness of the mind
Another slow day
In the summer
A day so still that we are
Creating conflicts as a pastime
Running around in our own mind
Tearing down Paradise
Schibolet 