Learning how to walk again
It takes time
Love and patience
Relearn
The Square
The local village square
On the way to the big city
A place where most people go
On Monday morning
We found ourselves trapped
Under circulating police helicopters
Giving a remainder about life under war
But we are not there yet
Just on the way
While drunkards and the drug addicts
Quarrels about what and whom
War has already started
In our minds and dreams
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Civil War
Dreaming hard dreams
About loss and pain
Those feeling hunts me
Day and night
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Insight
I got nothing
I am nothing
Just a grain of sand
On the beach
Next to the ocean
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The War
A long time ago
In another millennia
I went to the war
By free will
Not as a soldier
But as a writer and aidworker
I failed miserable
To change the world
But maybe I helped
Someone to live
A better life
For a few moments
That is something
Next to nothing
But still
Something
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Greater Than Life
Sometimes we come in the way
For great men stepping over us
They are not evil
Just busy pursuing
Their hobby
And sometimes
That includes
Sacrificing you
For their noble
Cause
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Long Time Ago In The War
Once I visit the war
As a curious stranger
A young man with
(Quite) noble motives
The war was in full swing
Being near the frontline
In a besieged city
Listening to random shooting
Feeling trapped and scared
I felt very well, being in a sort of
Hypertension being aware
Feeling strong and present
I returned to my safe country
Leaving the war behind
I fell and kept on falling
Feeling like a rundown
Tired octogenarian
The tiredness never left
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The Great War Revisited
I could not stop returning
To the war or forget the people
I met in the city
Still things got more complicated
The good people were not that good
Just human with a twist being in a war
Everything became human and very
Complex,perplex a culture with
Different rule that applied
All the great projects became crooked
Like life itself
So eventually I put everything on the shelf
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Tower of the Self
Dystopia is here with the rain
As well as the cold humidity of a
Meadow in the summer
We never wanted to be here
Always on the run
Moving from city to the city
But being a prison of
Time and circumstances
Not much choices being given
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The War Mongers
There are many different
Types of war
Inner and outer
Sometimes they coincide
Sometimes not
But here we are
Waiting for the total war
While we are collecting
White stones on a tiny beach
In the afternoon
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