The Minotaur 

Finalising the unthinkable 

I have become a monster

A Minotaur in his dirty, stinking

Maze

Without entrance and exit

I walk around looking out 

The tiny Windows to see

What is going on in the

Outside world

Hoping, even expecting 

The one day an earthquake 

Will make the walls

Tremble and fall 

More than 4000 years

Have I been waiting

The world has changed

But the tyrants remains

Doing their dirty deed 

In front of me every day

While the water slowly

Grinds the stone

A Slave

I am a slave of humanity

Serving it dearly

While it’s behaving severely

It does not care

It is busy with other things

That’s digging it’s own grave

They dig it here

They dig it there

Now they dig everywhere

Sands of Time — Discover

Sometimes another perspective is necessary in order to understand the world. This place reminds me in an awkward way of the far north. Places with only snow and no trees, windy stretches of roads often clogged by snow dunes up to five meters.

 

Photographer James Dee Clayton travels across Morocco, across the tallest dunes of the Sahara Desert.

via Sands of Time — Discover

Turncoat

I am a turncoat

Turning me

And my coat

For Every vim of mankind

Floating around like an

Amoeba in the sea of

High morale ground

You can’t grasp me or catch me

Because my substance is

Nothingness

Christmas in Dubrovnik

Moving through  the highly risky

Terrain in a lush green forest

Above the old city

I remembered

The war more than 10 years ago

Still visible with all its

Shellmarks making

Roses on the ground

Telling a distant story

Of terror and death

The war had just ended

At Christmas, just a

Shell fired in the afternoon

From the enemy in order to

Make their presence known

Later that night

The captain shot

His girlfriend in a bar

Not far from the Hotel

The scars lingers under the surface

But surface

Cosmetic beauty  that money can buy

Is what you will see

 

Falling Down To Reality

Meeting the unknown

Outside the bounds

Of reality and rationality

Outside myself

When I is more than me

When I is not me

Above myself

Inside myself but still not settled

After this

I fell down to reality

Woke up in a bar

Like some drunk foul

In a poem by a Sufi mystic

Living in his lonely desert

Like me

Your Words

Overworked, tired

Full of contractions and contradictions

The information and understanding

Of my predicament that you have

Your words made me stop and think

Feeling deadly tired like a wounded animal

I retreat to my cave

I do not want to be part of your world anymore

Still I will