The World

The latent virus of the Cold War never went away

It came back to us, full of new features

The world now

Divided between the rich, affluent or just crooked

While big men with guns standing on their guard ready to kill

Or at least harm while preparing another massacre in a tiny village

The battle for the control of resources has just started again

Plans are being made, the control so important, still such a

Great illusion being extended to every corner of human existence

New types of weapons being created more efficient

In killing is being put up, to win you need to create chaos

A great ladder for climbing while we are falling

Avoiding to prepare until the very last moment

One Gray Day

After being abused and used

So many times,

Manipulated

Again and again, my sight

Was clear watching the

Devastated landscape

That once was my life

Not realising that

Goodness is the road to hell

I thought that love would

Heal her wounds but

Trashed people trashes you

And eventually destroys

What they have and love

Here I am trapped by

Doing what I learned

Was right,

That turned out

To be an illusion

So i left

Found other people

Crazy in their own

Ways

And I stand here one year later

Now knowing

Where to start

Just fearing that the way

Is endless

Slumber

The day closes in

Soon the night

Will overtake

Out mad aspirations

And hopes, fears

That kept the day

Going in all it’s bright

Light that hides

Unpleasant surprises

All that will rest for a

Moment

While Sunday turns into

A news monday

Filled with new fears

That will hassle and tear

Us a part slowly

Piece by piece

Still leaving us

In the dark

To care for

Ourselves

One Gray Day

After being abused and used

So many times, manipulated

Again and again, my sight

Was clear watching the

Devastated landscape

That once was my life

Goodness is the road to hell

I thought that love would

Heal her wounds but

Trashed people trashes you

And eventually destroys

What they have

Here I am trapped by

Doing what I learned

Was right, turned out

To be an illusion

I stand here

Not knowing

Where to start

 

 

Fear and Prosperity

It is all in the making

We just do not know what it is

The aggressive confidence

Easy solutions to difficult problems

Or just denial of that there are anything wrong

The snow keeps falling,

While we are preparing

Clearing the shelter, cleaning the gun, stocking up

We know, we believe, we fear

Still we know nothing, remember nothing

Real war is still distant, surreal

In silence I prepare my life as an ageing Odysseus

A journey that will last a life time

Without returning to Ithaca

 

Sunday Quagmire

Messy night, sleepless flight

With screaming children

Fighting, crying and soon

To be the confused morning

Trying to get the sleep lost in the terrible night

More noise, less choice

Trashed people they do trash you up

Eating the leftovers of your soul and self

Only by luck can anything be good eventually

But not eventually

Likely

Sunday

Sleepy, Slow moving Sunday

Nothing to say

The children are playing

In the front of the TV

My mind is empty