Blue Monday

Found a way through

The city streets for a

Brief meeting with

My teacher and Guru

However

The man was not found

He had already died

.

Though he had been

There waiting for me

On the same spot

Exactly eleven years ago

Our meetings had

Therefore to take

Place in the spirit

More than as a

Conversation

.

Another little man

A boy had been born

In the meantime

With his very own

Passions and problem

Mirroring the old

Master but much

Wiser

Worst of Days

Monday is the worst of days

Always filled with hard awakenings

The dream is over, the family drama

Has ended everybody lost

Back to the ordinary life

At work, school, unemployment or

Whatever takes you through the week

The human illusion is so vibrant

What we have to do or not to do

Just a few feet away another

Parallel world awaits us

Patiently

Outside

Out in the world

A quick dive

Into reality

The noise, the smell, the cold

People moving around seemingly without a plan

I have fear, deep fear

That i cannot handle in any way

I am a prisoner of my own mind

No matter where I go

My cell will follow me

Subway mists

And here I am again

An angry man yelling

In the street

Bothering everyone

Passing time by acting

Crazy, dirty and wretched

Scaring children, women and some men

Disturbing the so tranquil balance

Between the conditions of being a town dweller

And just a disturbed frustrated man in a to big flock

Pretending to be living an advanced life in the city of trivial

Dreams impossible to comprehend or ever achieve

But still a city with its much wider but still limited

Freedoms dating back to the free republics of

The white sea in the far south

Long gone Socrates also learned to know its

In fact very strict limitations

Drinking bad wine and talking to much

Day and night

Strange places next to home

Certain days demands escapes to a different city

Another place to put the restless mind and body

I choose the workers city south of home

A dirty place with a huge highway in the middle

In order to keep the workers mind focused

on work

The gigant harbour filled with containers and cars

The factory making trucks and the factory making medicine

To drug the world and make life filled with pills of different color

I love that place, poor people from all over the world come here

To seek the true unhappiness in a life filled with thing and matter

Are they happy, happier or just busy making a living

I do not know and I am not going to ask them

I let them get on with their life and feel happy that this

is not my home but a lush green place that is ok for a day or two

or more, enjoying the serene feeling of being a stranger in a land

That never been mine