Middle of Madness

To be creative is painful

It takes time and there are

Long periods of procrastination

So here we are again

A manic stroke in end of May

When the lights is on the whole night

And people getting crazy

Nervous and filled with desire

The mind is turning, round, round all the time

Feeling bad and lost

Still so creative

How I love this feeling

Still hate it

Cannot find word

These last days has been like that

Loss of words

May, my, you, they

Looking for a reason to have hope

But I do not find any

It is just the same

But thirty years later

I am older not wiser

Less prospects not more

Alone I came to face the world

And the world is ugly

Even in May


The plants are growing

Fast and furious

Trying to kill old roots

That once were healthy and strong

But only time will

Tell us who, if anyone won

The metamorphosis is quick and

Painful often killing its host

The only things that comes easy

Is the rain and the mosquitoes

And they are endless sources

Of frustration

As is the cold white light

At night


Fallen Fruit

Heavy and not far
the fruit from the tree
It is not my life
after all
I failed now
so many times
to change anything in my fate
and this made me so frustrated
but never mind
this is my life
and there is
no much to about it
The sun still shines
and the leaves are
green in the end of May


Eternal outsider

Close your eyes and then…
Run, run, run
Talk, talk, talk
Smile, Smile, Smile
Run, run, run

Go home
Then forget everything about it


The Wind

I want to live
I just do not know
how to do it anymore
Is there hope?
Is there a future?
Outsiders of all kinds
comes to great me
but the wind 
the cold wind from the north
will freeze all aspirations 
of flowering, fruitsb