Writing without
Finding any meaning
Only words
Written while being
Abused and used
For other purposes
Woeful Game
A Night Full of Action
Traveling in my dream
I learned that my wife
Had changed our house
To a small cranky appartment
Where a relative to Saddam Hussein
Used to live
He had hidden a lot of gold there
She found it and shared it
With her arab lover/ helper
Called Ahmad
She despised him
But needed the money
To get rid of me
Leaving me in the flat
I tried to warn my children
They did not understand
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A Prayer Against Love
Love is a burden
A way to be
Abused and abuse
Being blind while seeing
Misunderstood or manipulated
Hope and despair
What a great entertainment
And treasure box
A tool for redistribution of
Wealth and genes
O lord save us from love
Cause it will end the world
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Empty
All the energy
Has gone to comfort you
My mind and soul
Is like an empty
Shell in a backwater
Waiting to being
Washed away
To the merciless
Sea
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Flowering
Long time ago
I had the idea of flowering
To have flow being creative
But I did not find
My strength here
And succumb to other
People’s desires
Trying to please
And being a part
Always losing out
No flowering for me
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The Death of The Good Man
The frustration merges
After a long time
To strength not
Anger anymore
Crying does not matter anymore
I never asked to live here
Or even to be born at all
It is just pain and plain numbness
Humiliation and exploitation
I don’t want to save or help anymore
It is just a reason for other people
To take advantage of you
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Tensed
She comes home
After a day at the office
Filled with frustration
And ave
Being the trapped
Using us as a bin
For her frustration
Tensed and aggressive
Only the sleep will relieve us
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A Fake Life
To live without an income
Is to live in the shadow
Of other people’s money
Their will and their whim
Moves you around like
A puppet
The shame is great enough
To kill you, through you
In front of a train or tram
Instead you hide
Building a fake identity
That eventually becomes
What you are
Not solving, just hiding
Because the shame
Is so great
Where to start from that?
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The Good People
Being nice is a
Very bad disease
Giving room for
People to use and abuse
You endlessly
Until they put you on
The city dump for disposal
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Reaped Innocence
Frozen in time
The handshake of the old man
And the
Cold sympathy of the perpetrator
For his abused victim
That cannot protect
Themselves
Repeating the eternal cycle
But that is not the whole
Story
Schibolet 