Poem #6: Fragile masses of meat

We humans are fragile. But still convinced we are immune towards life cruelty, bruatality and sickness. We are dumb in that way, living our life thinking that nothing, or no one, can beat us. We are immortal. Or at least, so we think. And we walk the crooked path of life acting like we know all there is to now. We take risks and challenge the laws of nature. Humans are stupid. But yet, it is our stupidity combined with our brilliant master homo sapiens mind that makes us so fascinating creatures. We are dumb, but smart. So clever that we do stupid choices to avoid boredom and spice up our life. And dumb enough to think that we will always come out on the right side when we jump of the path that faith has drawn for us, looking for a better way of living. But in the end we are just masses of meat. Flesh and bone smashed together into a human shape. We are fragile. Mortal. And don’t you forget that.

picture by background- pictures.picphotos.net

picture by background- pictures.picphotos.net

Poem #4

Running on the path in front of me.

The crocked roots are reaching for my legs,

trying to capture me and keep me in the dark forest.

 

I keep on running in the rain,

avoiding the roots and their grabbing arms.

Leaves are whispering about me, scaring me with tales about my past,

whispering fearful thoughts about what the future will bring.

 

I refuse to be captured in the dark.

I keep on running on the narrow road that is laid up for me,

my heart beating hard making drum noise in my ears.

 

I know that the solution lies in front of me.

Running blind with my arms grasping for answers,

but the answers I seek are drowning the sorrowful surroundings.  

I just made a “late night” poem

solnedtåke

Late night poem #1

The smoke breaks the light,
and curls around the muscles.

The heart takes an extra punch
and the body weight increases.

The eyes sense dancing snakes,
whispering, wheezing they break the light.

The silence is full of noises,
notes and thoughts become melodies.

The truth is there,
hidden behind the smoke fog.

The hand grips,
but the truth slips.

The darkness is colorless,
and the eyes are heavy.

Smoke dust and sleep,
burden the eyelids.

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