Mourning

The mild and merciful creature that created us

Did not think on love or aesthetics

Only practical matters, letting us share

Every organ for this and for that

Beauty and beastly needs combined in various ways

No sentimentality, when you are dead

No more talking, no mobile calling to heaven

A one way street with few if any coming back to tell

Sad story leaving us behind to mourn and remember

Only our resilience might save us for a while

From getting lost and meeting the inevitable end

In a bad way

Anxiety on Ice

Sometimes you are trapped

In your anxiety and worry

Fearing the worst

Expecting the apocalypse

But in reality

Nothing happened

You are trapped by

Your own fantasy

Into a world of horror

When this happened

A hundred times it is

Recognisable

The Rugged Man

Ruffling through and around

About to do something illegal

While being terrible drunk

I am here and always part of

The picture

The city can’t live without

My breath or reek of alcohol

And sometimes amphetamine

Keeps me going

My life will eventually be cut short

By the cold and the drugs

Maybe Jesus will save me

Maybe not,

When I am gone someone

Else almost identical

Will replace me

The Old Mans Song

The finest hour was always

To our surprise

A crowded one

We shared our lives

With the crowd

Around us

The food, the clothes and the dirty

Mattresses in the dining hall

Still this is fond memories

We had a common cause

Now I am old and wealthy

My five bedroom house is empty

And the pool is never used

We are like strangers or

Even worse enemies to

Each other

Avoiding to meet even

Over dinner

©schibolet

Running Wild

Stress, being afraid to lose

The grip, the control

In a fighting mode

Ready and prepared

Still not present

Avoiding the fight

So I have to get down

Feeling that I can

Take the fight

Eventually

Acting inn and out

Stress is something

That is always there

Underneath the calm

Surface

It detaches you from

What is you

A strategy is needed

Or a place or situation

Where meditation and

Relaxation is possible

Sometimes the pattern

Is so deep inside you

You have to be conscious

Of what is going on

First

The Projection of Fear

Fear is a strange thing

It catches you

Holding you hostage

Making you not solve

Anything, just avoiding things

Still sometimes useful

But only when you

Trust yourself to act

Upon it

New Roads

Starting a new

Trying to create or find

Different solutions

To being me

And suddenly things

Might be possible again