Leaving

What do we deserve

What is the aim of our life

And existence

Hard question to live with

But this is here and now

In a small space

Waiting to leave the country

This became my destiny

The Life In Appolonia

Rain rather than sun

Grounded rather than spaced out

Minimalist rather than baroque

Snow rather then heat

A slow pace of life

Will not solve anything

Neither will reason

Or calculation

But leaving Apollo and

Dionysius

Behind in their eternal

Struggle

Life Hacks

Some days

Life lacks meaning

Direction and hope

I am just here being

Existing

But some days

Pain is being conquered

The Great Paradox

Life is so precious

Valuable and still so short

Lost in thousands of rainy days

Just a few moments of happiness

Then it is all gone

Without any joy

Life becomes a grey mass of water

A dirty river

A quarry for time thieves

A dumb and concentration camp

Full of traps and dangers

Without any rewards

Life is so precious and

Still treated as an almost

Worthless commodity

Morning Entertainment

The fight started

Already in

Early morning

A never ending

Conflict

Revolving around

Who has done

What and when

Always the other

Persons fault

Ongoing relentless

Stress

And the eternal excuses for being

In this eternal stress mode

A Stench of Paradise

Just being here

Trapped on a small island

In the wast emptiness of the mind

Another slow day

In the summer

A day so still that we are

Creating conflicts as a pastime

Running around in our own mind

Tearing down Paradise

Review

So I been told

All through the night

How bad I am

“You are a parasite”

The parasite told me

While sucking

My blood

“You used me”

She said taking

My money and hope

“Love me, why don’t

You love me

Now I am burned out

Because of you”

While running around

In circles blaming

The world

Pitying herself

How The World Works

The old man had a

worn down brown suit

That did not fit his

Black hat

Smelling of sweat and bad breath

Unwashed shirts and underwear

I have something to say

Even if no one

Will listen

This world is built on

Profit and money

And contempt for those

Who have not

He kept on ranting while

Counting his dollar bills

To be sure that he was counted

Too

Without You

The sun still shines

The flowers blooms and

Life goes on

With or without you

Wherever in the world

You are my love

©Schibolet