Wednesday morning

The street had the usual colors, gray, black tarmac and dirty brown plaster. The usual copy and paste buildings from the drawing board of long dead architects in art noveau  style. The strait pompous street was oversized made for parades, tanks and trams (none of them present at the moment). Instead the steps of thousends of people and hushed conversation filled the air. The sunshine were dimmed by smoke from people making fire at to keep warm during the freezing  night. The street itself had potholes and some of the facades were missing. It was then I saw the boy, he could have been maybe seven, his black eyes starred out on the street with fear while he was hugging what must have been his grandmother and would not let her go.  Later that day the grenades would fall again on the pompous street and some more people would die.

The Lost Kingdom

Once upon a time I had my own kingdom

I ruled everything, build houses, bridges

and railways

The king made alliances and held festivities

Most often the other animals and people in

The kingdom were happy

Then one day my mother told me that we have

To move and the kingdom was lost forever

Replaced by plastic solider fighting world war two

And maps dealing with invasions, occupation and


The world changed and I went away to other wars

In the real world or was it real?

The battlefield

The mountains are empty
Almost 100 years after
Only the ruins and
Memories remains
Here more than
2000 meter so many
young boys died
The rain and wind
has taken it´s share
As well as the snow
and the thunder
Still you can feel
The presence of those
Who never made it home
They are still there
Waiting for the other
Side to attack
But the silence
Will only be the
Answer to their
The other side
Is dead as well
They cannot see
Each other only
Wait in the arid
To evaporate
With the memory

The young old man

Fear is not a way to live
Peace without freedom
Is not peace but pacification
The man told me
But his land is lost
Stolen by his neighbour
And here he is
Far away smoking
His cheap cigaretts
In the camp his
former friends
guarded him
While other friends
is being tortured
Or killed
Here in the far north
He is dying a little
Bit day by day

Long, long time ago

Long time ago
I went to a war
Long, long time ago
To the valley of death
I went
Long, long time ago
The people where full of fear
I was just one lonely traveller
What could I do?
Long, long time ago
Every day there were people dead
In the street, at home at school
And every step could be your last, so fast
I put my life at stake to see the war
Long, long time ago
Then I went home to my house,
Took a deep, deep breath and enjoyed
The peace in my big, big bed
But the war would not let me go
Every night I could not forget
The trapped, the wounded and the dead
But at home nobody wanted  to hear about
That  terrible war
Long, long time ago
They said  to me, let them kill each other until they’re all dead
Let them die in their bloody war.
We have our own cats and dogs and friends
we do not care about that war
And so life went on and on and on
Until that bloody war came here
Long, long time ago
With it´s terror and fear
It took some of our dear
But the people still did not care
Because it´s not our war
It´s  not our problem anymore
If people die on the other side
Because we only care for our family and friends
Let the other die they said,
Long, long time ago
Then somebody dropped a bomb
And now they’re all dead
With their cats and dogs and other pets
Even their families and friends are all dead
So I guess it´s not their problem any more
Since, long long time ago


Darkness has fallen

Tonight I suffer with the people
that has been gased
Whose children are dead
Whose children are near dead
Suffering, fighting to live
Another day in the war


The night is sinister


there will not be

the brisk air
me feel

a short moment 
of happiness
connecting with

other spaces and times past 

the stars are congregating 

memories of old battles

are coming back

the smell of blood and fire, sweet 
There are men dying

under these star at

this very moment
I am not thinking
of them but of 
men living on the
other shore of time


Back in the morning
I am mourning
The loss of my middle age.
The children are growing fast
Soon the will be the hooligans
roaming the street of the city
Like we expected
In order to make the most
of being almost adult
(And they should, life is short)

We will curse them and make
their more miserable then it
could be
(by default and tradition)

We have seen this in our self
and now we know and demand
that the teenager behave badly
Like they are supposed to do
and that is good

Soon the war will begin
and their energy will be
channeled into more
destructive things

That mountain, the place
I wanted to show my son
might never be seen by him
if that happens


Pazi snajper long gone come back

I wait for war

I wait for peace

I see the bridge

In the snow 

Carrying the overweight of exhumed mankind

waiting to collapse

My information


Is not your information

we need to go to war again

In order to fight for justice of some kind

Trust, Truce train and hostage taking

No no good said she

No no good said the old man in the attic