The Poets Lamentation

Poetry is always a lost cause

No money no readers and

Very little encouragement

We poets are like the Albatros

Free in the Wind but lost

Onboard the ship that is

The rest of humanity

So, yes Baudelaire is right

We poets are not that good

In taking a fight

But here we are

This our time

On earth

Hope

What hope is there left

What options are there

Known or unknown

The sun still rising

Christ has left his cave

April

Noisy birds, strong white light

The sun is turning the tide,

Black earth and white snow

Mixing, sealing off retreating

To the safety of the library

Growing knowledge and a beard

Aquarium

Giving life to these dirty walls

Life in the aquarium

Little oxygen, little life

What feeds us, what is feeding on us

What is uncertain,

The night falls already early,

Early in the morning

Nightmare Territory

The day has turned into night

The evening was filled with

Frustration and fear

The options are few

When anxiety looms

At every conversation

When your friends

Becomes a foe

Again and again

Dysfunctional patterns

Repeating themselves forever and ever

In a very dull pattern

I will not save my self

But suffer, fail and die

As this is what I am supposed to do

Repeating generations of tragedy

The earth is black, the soil brown

Clay underneath and at the bottom

The hard solid rock

Ode To The Next Ruler

Assemble energy, power,will

Try to get

Past last years tragedies

In a snowy Stockholm

Being around negative

People that put me

Below the ground

In a pit of self pity

Never mind

This kind of torture

Is part of this shitty

Life without meaning

Or purpose

It is of course my fault

I don’t deserve to live

I don’t want to live

Kill me and use me

As a fertiliser in

Your garden so

I eventually come

To some use

Together with the other

Jews and infirm

That you put there

A while ago

And then go on

To destroy the world

Which is your purpose

Conman

Winter mornings

Are dark matters

We suffer, we the Slow moving creatures

Of this Earth

I’m just an ordinary conman

Doing my deeds

And sometimes getting paid for them

When we are gone we are forgotten

we the insects of mankind

That you need but always denies

As Well

Life is cold

And Earth is dark

As dark as earth

Should be

The stinking man

In front of me

Screams in his phone

Soon we will all

Be dead

Just like our forefathers

Might be just as well