As they wash away
The blood from the streets
Of good.
Words,
Make me remember,
The days of a long lost summer
I am trying to forget

Now it is winter
And I don't hear
'Cause I don't speak.
It's cold
Yet, my blood is boiling

Natural disasters
An imbecile mind
With hands too clean
I shave
My breath
Away from dawn

Too ******* wasted
Too ******* not
Just too ******* ******
In a too ****** world

I laugh
I'm hilarious
Ha
Ha
Ha
What
I have no idea
What I have become

This is not a poem
I am not a poet
Inspiration caught me
I am now on fire

Selfless indication
Word wasting alliteration
Help me rhyme
I'm such a wannabe
Give me
A metaphor as stupid as a simili

I am trying to write a poem
But this is not working
I know no inspiration
Can't make it rhyme
I'm pretending I'm a poet
But I am wasting your time

For evigt sagde uret.
Mens viseren stod uden lærling,
En kold sommerdag
Mellem linjerne
Jeg hviskede et smil
Som kun verden kunne se.

Uvidenhedens byrde
Ubøjelig og støvet
Som bogen på hylden
Gerninger udviskes
Man slog med terningen.
Profitpolitik til taberne.

Profeternes livstegn,
Dagenes endelidt
Ledte til visdom
Hos den brave indianer,
Solgt som bankekød
I gårsdagens tumult.

Farvel sagde timen,
Da klokken slog tre.
Døde hen i solen.
Et matematisk spørgsmål.
Hav blot barmhjertig
Tikkende tastes tak.