Monday is the worst of days

Forcing its discipline

Upon us early in the

Morning, reducing

Our option

Streamlining the path

To achievement and


You cannot be creative

Just working catatonic

In the catacombs of

The reptile brain

Mind reader

Diving into the mind of my grandfather

Dead since almost ten years

Using the wisdom of Tai Chi and my

Intelligence skills

To become a Turncoat, an amoeba

Floating around In

The mental universe

Of the demented man

Whose God, Newton

Would rule with his rigid laws of traction and


Searching his fragmented mind for

The Secrets of the atom and the atom bomb

Or the standing of the planet an evening

In March 1981

At the time when Venus rise 87 Degrees east

I maybe I would find,

surprisingly some hidden knowledge

About a pine tree on a remote island in the sea


Feeling empty inside

All thoughts are gone

Left is only the tiredness

I overcome myself

But to what purpose

Who is the real enemy

Realising that its me

The Burden of Illusions

All the energy that it takes to keep a dream

Even though everything else fails

I have kept the illusion

Because that was everything

I had

All the energy I had went

To keep my head above the water

Striving for something better

Now it’s too late

I have to change

But it’s to late

I have to lose

My faith

We are moving a head to be dead

Destructive edges urges us


Writing away my anxiety

Pretending that I have a choice

Pretending that It is a free will

Being possessed by spirits and memes

From another era, it is not much I can do

The problem is that it is only getting worse

With age, I am not getting wiser