Moving slowly
No sleep makes you that way
This is the final notice
This is it
No more excuses
Just start living now
Or just a little bit
More sleep
Backward Journey
Incarnation
What am I
A creator, a thing or
Just an idea
Do I exist
Or am I
Just dreaming?
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Dreams
When we are young
We create a fantasy
For how our future
Should become
The older we get
The less hope we
Have if that dreams
Hasn’t come even close
To any realization
We become trapped by other
People’s dream and the eventually
Consume us
And we are lost of track…
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Together We Can Make It
Tendencies of actions
Lost dreams
That cannot be retrieved
Only together
Can we build
Something different
Something better
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Turnpike
So the wheels keep on turning
It is bad times
When the great disaster
Takes place,
Life is collapsing in front
Of our eyes
Falling down
Into a chaotic
Flow with a lot of mess
A lot of confusion
Only the rays of the sun
Tells another tail
About us
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Fantastic Vision
One night I dreamt that
Every human was free
Each one living in their own tree
A small treehouse for each one of us
In a green utopia
But I woke up in the desert
Cold and frozen
The trees had left
For a better forest
And I just walked around
N absolute horror
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Creative Silence
Freedom to be heard
Silence is a pleasure
Among all the noise
We cannot listen
To much for meaning
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Vague
There are many forms of nightmares
Some of them visible in full daylight
Tired of not sleeping
Being awake and having vague
Foreboding of something
Much more sinister
But the reality is ambiguous
Hard to interpret a deeper
Understanding
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The Great Quest for Reality
I had this feeling of losing
Grip of reality
It seemed like reality had its
Benefits and deficits
The question is what is what
Dreaming is one level
True but mercurial disappearing
In the morning light
Only leaving slightly contours of memories
The repetitive world of every day
Is very much an illusion
When we leave it behind is just gone
Like a dream
Therefore my question is
What is reality and when is it really
Reality?
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Borderland
Waking up in the middle of the night
From the catacombs of dreams
A tunnel going from living to being alive
The dreams keep me happy
Reality disappoints me
Still I prefer being awake
And the balance between
Dreaming and Living
Schibolet 