Nobody understands silence any more.
They don't respect peace,
they get annoyed by tranquillity,
they escape their own problems,
drown their sorrows in constant babble.
There is no peace any more.
They, he, she, you, me, we.

Resting is underrated, so
they talk and they talk, about
problems of someone else's, never
solving their own inadequacies, never
respecting our will for peace.

I just want to be able to go
to the beach, the library, the café
and read and sit and think, while
I look out the window (people walking by).
They don't find beauty in silence any more.
Why don't they understand the simplest of things?

Just silence and me.
We would, and do, go well together.
Just me.
Just silence.
...
..
.

I have not found a better home,
I have looked for an eternity.
Every road took me somewhere,
eventually I found myself lost.

The paths I chose blossomed
and horses walked them happy.
Yet, these roads are not for everyone,
you too, may find yourself lost.

If you travel by night,
the Moon will shine the way.
If you travel by day,
the Sun can take you astray.

For these paths, the roads,
are not for everyone.
So turn back and believe me,
as I have walked this way before.

You are not supposed to be here,
this road leads to a lonely desert.
I have warned you once already,
the next won't help you at all.

You have run past your happiness,
now walking in the night,
this road of loneliness
will be the end of you.

I know, as I have walked this way before.
It is only, a highway to desolation,
which no one should go.

And now you know,
which way is home.

Nothing as lonely, as
a lonesome man traveling.
With the company of his thoughts
and some ideas.
Many problems and no solutions.
Music as his company,
the plane isn’t so boring.

Last week’s red wine,
(in the form of *****)
on his notebook,
has allied with the moistness
of his room.
So he skips a page

and writes a poem.

Jesus was an alien
and Moses was a hippie.
I saw them once in Vegas,
where we drank wine.
Obviously.

At once I felt like an alien
and soon dressed as a hippie;
but that was Vegas,
where we drank wine.
Obviously.

I won million dollars on the slots
and bought a trip to space,
where I met Jesus, the alien
and we ate cakes in space.
Obviously.

I got back to Earth
and went to San Fransisco,
where I saw the hippie, Moses
and we slept on flower beds.
Obviously.

It was all a bit weird,
but after a while it came to me:
Jesus was an alien
and Moses was a hippie.
Obviously.

I believe I'm alive
but I don't know

I see and I cry
but I still don't know

I feel and I lie
yet so hard to know

I try and I try
perhaps soon I'll know

I hate and I love
now I know

I start dreaming
before I've finished my sentence
I start dreaming
after I've lost my thought
I finish dreaming
before I've got to conclusion
I finish dreaming
after I've missed everything else

This is a poem.
A very, very ****** poem.
But it rhymes
and has a bunch
of words in it.
Cool, ain't it?

Okay it doesn't rhyme,
but does it really matter?
At least I've tried.
I did my best,
doesn't it count?

I need a job,
******* it.