The spring is cold and unfriendly
My hands are cold but
I have so much to tell and
So little time
Running to meet my
Destiny
Destiny
The Old Mans Song
The finest hour was always
To our surprise
A crowded one
We shared our lives
With the crowd
Around us
The food, the clothes and the dirty
Mattresses in the dining hall
Still this is fond memories
We had a common cause
Now I am old and wealthy
My five bedroom house is empty
And the pool is never used
We are like strangers or
Even worse enemies to
Each other
Avoiding to meet even
Over dinner
©schibolet
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Mind on a Spit roast
Life changes
Getting older
Time warps you
Up and down
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Past Future
I did see the future come and go
Once, twice and a third time
Remembering the past
Getting stuck in what was
Unable to protect or act
Repeating the story and memory
Now again the future is here
Like a grey sky early in the spring
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Loop
Sitting in the company of quiet old men
Reading their iPhones for meaning and comfort
While the music keeps humming together
Whit the bakery’s fridge in a very in easy way
We are waiting for the time to go
The time to go to the end
The sun shines through the dirty window
And enlighten our dreams that
Are as dusty as our mind
As rotten as the worst boat you
Can find
It won’t take us anywhere but here
Catch in our own loop
Turning round and round
The end is not near just no need
For fear our hope
Here in our loop
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Death Clock
The clock of death keeps on ticking
While all your problems keep on sticking
In the very end it is not so much left
Some memories, some things
And a feeling of being on the
Wrong side of history
This is forever my story
Being a loser at any time
Now it does not matter anymore
I will just look for the door
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4. Crossing The Border
Dotted lines on a map,
Cut off roads and barbed
Wire for the brave and
The fouls that still are
Curious at old age
We cross and never returns
The fact of life changes
With age and illusions
Comes clear of meaning
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Chimera
The sun is gone
Just fog and
Grey matter
I came here a long time ago
Thought I would leave
Still I am here
Where I should not be
Waiting for a miracle
That has faded away
Long time ago
Just the
Mummified remains
Are still here
Like a rotten fruit
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Bad Times
Dying city
Decaying city
Filled with rich filth
Destroying the mind and body
Slowly burning city
Falling apart at dusk
Armed men
Guarding cautiously and attaching their guns to their frail bodies
In case of other frail men trying to take what little gold
They might have
No cash has any worth any more
Only handouts of food and water
And of course the eternal metal
Shining so bright in our dirty hands
