Boring War

War is a boring thing

Filled with waiting

And cold evenings

Without light and

Heating

Waiting, smoking,

Talking and drinking

Whatever found

On the black market

Money always scarce

A few get rich,

Most people get poor

Everyone would leave

If they only found the

Door

But the war wears on and on

Through rain and sun, storm

and snow people dying all

The time when life could

Be must more benign

Journey Through the Night

Floating through space

It is black and wide

No stars only the black

Earth under me and

The black sky above

No perspective

We are deep under the surface

Traveling through the night

Like an enlighten beast

Soon we will see if

There ever is a day

Or eternal night

Ratata

Distant gunfire from the hill

Then the noise of silence

So many bullets

Flying away

Flying Avery

In every direction

Ricocheting on roofs, walls and trees

Losing the causality

Hitting people and things by misfortune

Lost cases, lost life’s

Empty eyes stirring out in the eternal darkness

Of afterlife

Black 19th

This is the darkest day of the year

No hope should remain

After this or that

Everything dies today

Everything is reborn tomorrow

In this mad vortex

Let me be in peace

Let me be in happiness

Let me be in water

Corner

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In this lonely corner

I am all by myself

Seeing life passing by

Lost my meaning

Long time ago

Fear is gone

Hope is gone

Pictures moving

Aroud

What life should be like

At a certain age

But I am still here

Like a boy

 

Getting older, not wiser

slowly, slowly

I  am losing my ground,

Every year a little loss

Every year I rise up

Just like Sisyphus

Very boring work

I know the end

Me poor, alone at an institution

The walls painted in white, some  books in a corner and a television set

They will put me there to die

Why do I not kill myself now?

 

 

 

Being confused and lost

The city present itself with all its doubtful glory

But when you look closely things turn out differently

This is the way things are

They are not what you think

More like a mixed cocktail

The winter keeps the smell away but now it is back

The dirt, the dead, the lost and the con artist  are all back again

Doing the city interesting and multidimensional

But if you know the history of every street, apartment and park

The city turns out even more different than before

Like a mosaic in time bleaching slowly in the sun