Eleven

Why was I ever here

Was there any meaning

At eleven we always go to heaven

Contradiction in terms

Which is perfect for propaganda

Confused overused poet writing

My Song

For a long time

I tried not to get involved

Avoiding conflicts

Believing that things

Would work out anyway

They did not do that

The bad people continued

Their way

Since no one stood up against

Them life went on

And in the end

I lost my self

My will to live

My sense of living

Eating pills did not

Solve but maintained

Things as they were

So here I am alone and old

Soon gone

This is my song

Language of The Trees

We live in a noisy

World, everyone scream

Around you

Making big dramatic gestures

Meaning nothing or very little

To hear and see the miracle

Look down

Bend down

To the ground

Listen with your ear

To the ground

Learn the language of the trees

They will be your best

Friends