The Mind of a space monkey

And it has been lost until this day,
In which everything doomed to decay,
Can grant a wish and sing it up,
To once more spin the wheel of time,
For a darker pass of time.
When the trees seem to loose their lively vibe,
And the animals mainly retreat from life,
When women, men, children, gather inside the warmth of their house,
For it is the time when outside it’s restless,
Filled with all the years’ sadness,
And all the dead seem to be grieved,
In the mysterious songs of the sharp, cold wind.
And only demons now do walk the streets,
Reminding us how very sweet,
This life we all enjoy to live,
Truly is in this world in which we reside,
To make us notice that there is,
A pass of time,
Just as we drink, sit, eat, walk and sleep,
One day we all will lie beneath.

Mr. Sorrowcage was a foolish man,
Scared of witches, ghouls, black-cats, what a shame!
He believed it all, he was afraid,
And thus he chose that all his life,
He’d stay behind the door of his lonesome house.
A long, long time he had lived that way,
When he’d realized that he had turned old and grey.
He has never had a child or wife,
He had lived alone,
A pleasureless life.
He did not know of the world outside,
It seemed strange and contradictory,
He didn’t know what it meant.
But he inside,
Beyond the window,
Was dark and sorrow,
With himself and the day of tomorrow.
The day that he felt that his time had come,
He had found the strength to leave his house,
And whilst he was walking,
Discovering the world in only one day,
He had felt it all,
Pleasures and pains,
He had used his limbs and his voice,
Even screamed,
He wasn’t ashamed.
Enjoying it to the fullest and then,
In the same evening he passed away,
With a broad and radiating smile on his face,
Because he had fought his demons and won,
A feeling of love towards the godgiven sun.

*

All of this,
I wrote because I believe,
That on the 25th of October 1991,
It was not a day of grief,
For you have been born,
An extraordinary friend!
Whom I know I can trust and take by the hand,
Even in the days,
When everyone else seems to go away in the end.
Truth I see in you,
Everyone should be a bit more like you!
With principles, honesty, pride and all it takes,
It would make this world a better place.
Even when you’ve been brought down to your knees,
You chose to hold on and stand,
To fight for your beliefs until the end,
Although at times it felt like self sacrifice,
You kept going not looking back.
But you should know that you’re not alone,
In this life and through it’s tests,
For I’d do everything it takes,
To support you,
In any of these days.
Thank you,
For being like that,
A source of light,

A real and true friend.
Ioana, you indeed are,
From heaven sent.

Happy birthday.

As she went into the coffeeshop,
With scents from far off lands,
She thought of how so long ago,
She’d met a passionate man.
He loved the life with all it’s facettes,
And always laughed not little,
When he took her hand in his,
It made her weep a little.
It was his manner of wanting to know everything,
And share all of his thoughts,
That made her feel so drunk of love,
It felt all so strange and fulfilling.
But oh so soon he passed away,
Disease had cought him quickly,
Leaving behind a widdow now,
Who’d weep so many winters long,
Drenched with love forever,
For this one single mind of his,
Which gave away a gift so precious,
It was her duty to continue.
She smiled and laughed, was colourfull,
Enjoying every moment as if it’d be the last to live,
For this bitter love she felt,
This gift and curse in all it’s meanings.
It made her curious and thoughtful,
Had God himself been so evil?
Did it take this sacrifice,
To make her live in freedom?

*

For you, my saviour which has done nothing but take,
Why do you tempt me to hate?
Where is your kingdom and how do you love?
When every path I need to walk,
Is so narrow, so dark?
Why do you give me bitterness and rage,
When all I want is shelter, love… but all in vain.
The only thing I can hope now is that there is truth behind my faith.
For I want to believe,
That there is a purpose,
For all of this pain.

Is life just a game?

In my psychedelic trip to the sun,
I have seen all the faces that once had been mine,
I have been to the places which I’ve left behind,
I have thought all the thoughts that once had been in my mind,
I have found all the hope which I scattered in time,
I have dreamt all the dreams which have travelled the nights,
I have found my true friends and the loved ones,
In my psychedelic trip to the sun,
Everything had been just perfectly fine,
Then I woke up and realized,
It is not that perfect,
Not all has an end,
Those are mere dreams,
But in the end,
The world is mine,
And in joy I will find,
The peace and the love,
That I so desperately crave,
In this one single life of mine.

As they are and as they went,
They have spent some time right here,
Just to dive into a land,
Of which no one truly knows,
Wether someone really cares,
But for a moment,
Not too long,
A feeling was somewhere there.
I love you all and as I speak,
I wish the best to you,
For my inspiration lives,
And it comes from you.

As he sits there clutching in his fingers grip,
The bird which sings a song so sweet,
It would make even the angels weep,
A grimmace of anger darkens his face,
Why can’t he just fly away?
Scarred and old and ugly, but no!
This isn’t his soul! It’s not what he is meant to be,
He is meant to fly and sing, be praised!
Not grief. In a shell which resembles of a filthy thief,
But oh, what gives,
The bird all crushed,
It’s limbs so still.
He had taken it’s life,
It had been his will.