Da capo every year

Time moves quickly
On a Sundays
A lot of things
To be done
A lot of family
To interact with
Family diners
And the annual
Easter torture week
Every year the man
Dies on a Friday
And is reborn on Sunday
Every year I do not
Know what to do about it
What would have happened
If he instead of going to
Jerusalem that pitiful pit
On a mountain slope
He decide let us go
To Tel Aviv
Have a beer
Let´s make som miracles
By the sea
Putting our bare feats
In the warm sand
And watch the ocean
What would Easter be then?

Time to leave

It is time to leave
I had so much
I lost so much
And it does not matter

Time to seek out
New horizons
New ways of doing things
New places
Even if I remain the same
It will be different

Tomorrow night

I need the courage
I don´t have
My limbs are numb
And my mind all sleepy

Tomorrow will be
The great day
I walk out the door
Into the great void
Into the shimmering night

The night is full of whispering
voices and of stories untold
Fragments that reaches
the conscious mind
Telling me about the past
As well of the future


I live here
In the middle of the snow
That keeps on falling
In the solitude
My thoughts are running
Around me
Like scared

To die

When I  die
you might cry
I does not matter why
I die

I will still be here
in your head and
in your wains 
So life let me free
and I can leave
to be reborn
in another time
that will not be me
but still someone 
to meet and see


The shell were left on the beach
empty and opened 
We all stood and watch
as they died
The strong fighters, soldiers
our enemies and brothers, sisters
Some were happy
others showed grief 
but the process
is ignorant of those details
A human life is so short
and of no value at all
to the dolphins 

I fight the world

I fight the world as well as fear it.
I am me and I am not you
You are my enemy and friend
My mother and my father
My brother and son, daughter and girlfriend
I do not know anything else 
then the eternal battle between
everyone and everything
Peace is for the dead


Survival of the fat man 

in the desert is a hard


This is mainly due

to the many desserts 

eaten throughout the years of passive


Then just this out in nowhere

no water

no friends

no visits to that nice place in Alexandria

that some calls library but as everyone knows

is the halls of quiet ecstasy 

In time there will be more snow
there will be another morning

I mourn my losses

i see my gains


another day as a better time to play

another day to count the cost of living as a lost man

in a northern country on the brink of the world

Considering my non-participation in recent wars

That could not be won by anyone


You are not in my dreams

like Bosnia

I still feel ashamed for not helping

not supporting 

turning away to another part of

the universe 

just like my ancestors did not long

ago in 1941 or 1942

but this is now

That generation are gone recently 

I am still here 

I have to answer to the future