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

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

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

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

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

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