On Writing

This is my backbone

My faith, my savior

My last stand

In a confusing world

Where the mess cannot be

Made up anymore

No it fills the entire

Room with its noise

An Empty Wall Of Thoughts

Since a long time

I live hidden

In the mountain

Surrounded by blind people

Busy with themselves

And others not noticing

Me more than my body and presence

The tower is damp and cold

I am a bitter old man

Writing and thinking

Finding little joy in life

While the battle for survival

Goes on in the valley

Few will ever read my thoughts

Long after I am gone

Only the flowers will

In their own way

Enjoy me and my ash

Very well worth

it the price of a great price for a great price

Gone behind the lines

On the other side

Messed Up

Writing continuously

Throughout the night

Throughout the day

I have nothing to say

We are here

Life is so good

Life is so bad

We just run through life

Repeating our ancestors

Mistakes and indisescretion

Tower of Silence

For a long time

I stayed

In the tower of silence

Not uttering a word

Waiting for the birds

To eat me for dinner

But I got bored

And left for the land of

The talkative noisy living souls

That traffic this dirty street today

Talking is thinking

However bad and incomplete

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

Words

Putting all this energy on writing

Giving words to the readers

Feeding them with stories

And nuances that colors

The mind

Some small

Fragments of thoughts