Another day to play
The losing game
Another day to waste away
I does not matter anyway
Losing the Day
Imperfections
I live here
And I can see
The limitations
The obstacles
All the problems
That is me
Still I am much more
We are much
Than our
Problems
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Conman
Canvas of greater good
Conman playing his game
Mess and confusion
Follows in his step
In the time to come
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Act One
Tumbling around in town
Listening to people talking
While the sun sets
The city is empty and quiet
Frozen in time
A twentieth century drama
With rich and poor
Industrialist and workers
Artist and orderly office clerks
Playing their role in the game of
Being
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Sunset Game
Playing games
Losing or winning
Forever and ever
While the sun sets
Late in life
Discovering new unexpected
Things
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On Power
Power is a difficult thing
To understand
A magic trick
That allows you
To change perception
They foul you
Sometimes
You fool them
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Life is a madman’s game
You can play it well
But whatever you do
He sets the rules
They are changing
All the time
When he
Suddenly out of a wim
Changing his mind
You on the receiving end
No one there to support
You all alone
You try to stand
While he is beating
You bad
Then he leaves you in the gutter
This is my game he says
Smiling and walk away
You have to get home
To prepare for
The next day
In the game
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Sand
What did I learn?
In this isolated corner
In this reincarnation
In this illusion
That is so real
I close my eyes
And remember
A distant beach
Mikro Vigla, Naxos
More than 30 years ago
The sun shining so intensive
The too blue sea and the rocks
There I meet myself for the first time
And the future seemed so bright
The eternal nature of our souls always promise
Renewal and hope
But the memory is like writing in the sand
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A game of chess
So the day goes while
Fighting my own shadow
To no avail
Life is a lonely chessboard
Playing against myself
Still losing again and again
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Shadowland
We are still here
After all this year
Frustrated
LonelyÂ
NakedÂ
In the winterÂ
In the summer
autumn and spring
They play their
Game
And I now
an old man
Without any possessionsÂ
are thrown around like a small
piece of paper in the wind
The gods are looking
the other way and
the outcome is almost
Certain
Schibolet 