not chosing where we go
is so utterly wrong
and yet so right.
where we start or
the stack we are awarded,
is out of control.
shuffle the deck.
play – win – play – lose – play – by the rules lose – cheat – lose – play – play – play
play.
eventually win.
can’t cash out until the end,
and even then,
chips don’t matter.
always playing
’til it’s dawn.

imagine mustaches everywhere,
digital age does not mean a thing
nobody knows how to use it
yet the food is too amazing.

perfect shapes and sizes,
technology serves nothing compared to
all these choices
you can make
to fill your stomach.

screw you,
I just placed my order
it’s time to forget all the nice things
and scream fuck you at the world.

sometimes we are handed a pack of cookies
but more often we have to fight for the sweets.
sometimes we even have to order a pack of fuck you
as you can’t get any further without offending someone.

living broken dreams and wanting to change
it’s easier to give up and call it a day. whining. crying.
smiling at the people taking your cookies,
than to face your problems and
give them a pack of
fuck you.

don’t need a medal,
unless it’s golden.
can afford to run down the court,
has the money to fix all his stumbles,
paying the drugs,
and feeding the cat.
all the pain in his back, knees, joints, bones and muscles,
he will suffer them all,
playing a game meant
for pleasure.

making more money with blood,
sweat
and entertainment,
than joe at his job.

he’s not more than a tool,
like the hammer on joe’s belt,
for others to make more,
than he will ever earn.

he might have some bucks,
yet his due date is punched,
will expire soon.
ready to be thrown away,
commenting on a game, where he was the best,
now there are new cats on the block.
fading away,
remembered by the old bellies of the fat fan,
paid to do the expert talk,
on mainstream TV.

thinks he’s a millionaire.
taxes and luxury are reality.
thinning his pocket,
cause a few million ain’t enough,
with a life full of private jets,
filled with fast and easy sex.

he’s shining bright,
in the media light,
married with children,
ready to file the divorce.
no problem to feed three families at once,
easy for him to get back on the horse.

a life free of sin,
going to church,
wearing a cross on his arm,
and around his neck.
thanking the lord,
that playing a sport,
sweet and soft like the girlfriends peck,
keeps him cozy and warm
and delivers his fat paycheck.

building a franchise of his own breed,
that’s why they call him,
a professional athlete.

we are all so overrated
simple beings walkin earth.
the bad things we do will ruin it all. destroy the world.
now how pathetic can we be?

was rexs death his fault?
he might have been the biggest badass hunter on earth.
yet he’s dead.
farting ruined his atmosphere?

or how else did those huge fellas
cause their cosmic misfortune,
walking through the world and one day
bang. you have been extinct.
come again in a few billion years. or maybe
never.

time to change the stage,
and let the humans play.
talkin, prayin, beggin,
to the lords to not make us disappear like all the others before us.
the sissy’s of evolution, whinin and bitchin,
havin to many minds to waste.

we are, simple, maybe even a bit retarded, standing and wading,
having the power to fear imagination.
bad things we create, stuff we should not make,
and yet were are simple pawns in a game called
life.

one small, for us big change,
and it’s all about to turn,
back from the green round globe
to a scorching burning ball.
just waiting to let our farting resources return.
fossil energy problems solved, we simply need more dinosaurs
to rot beneath our feet.

sure, we are too wasteful,
and stupid when we act,
yet doing good, can be the most evil thing
we do.

living life, as simple as it sounds,
is the only thing to do.
yet we are not alone, million species extincted before us,
let’s ask them how they failed.

walkin away,
knocking on wood was never good,
it’s time to punch the walls.
zooming in, zooming out,
tokk, tokk, tokk,
there comes another knock,
never knowing from where it came,
smile and keep on traveling.

there is no sense of regretting the blood,
the broken bones and the swelling eyes,
knock, knock, knock,
here comes your tokk.
tap, tap, tap,
won’t help you as life won’t stop,
it’s not been taken to the cage,
facing it each day.
tokk, tokk, tokk,
time to open the door. let me in.
appreaciate every minute,
and maybe you will win.

sometimes it’s time
to let it all go,
leave the mess behind
and give your things away.
keeping all that stuff,
is just another form of slavery.

stacking, stashing, packing, storing.
the life of a collector gets pretty boring.
getting rid of the stuff,
that doesn’t give happiness,
might be hard, but I will forget what I once owned in no time.

no matter how hard we try,
we will never be complete.
you can buy whatever you want,
take a credit,
pay off the bills,
ask others for more money,
beg for a raise,
and put the stuff you buy with that money,
on top of the shelve,
living life like everyone else.
just waiting for the dust on them
to fall like the snow on a fresh winter day.

chasing the dreams projected by hollywood,
never forgetting, there might not be snow,
but suicides in those hills,
even though those heros can have everything.

and that’s still not enough.

I want it warm,
steaming, smelling the fragrance of right being made,
no matter if it’s late,
even during my shortest break.

not fearing the fear.
rejection, not receiving satisfaction.
not giving ass about
other people’s perspective,
only about my own retrospective.

seeing what I want to see
sabotaging myself
instead of approving what I have.

happiness is more than a word,
as it takes more to write, spell and speak it
to actually have some.

speaking a mantra is the first step,
to never forget,
that being awake,
is not much more than a state of sleepwalking.

our dreams are what makes us human,
living in our own reality,
shaping our destiny.

that’s why we have to face,
a self help market,
telling people, who are to weak to stand on their own,
how to improve,
instead of simply living a life.

choices have to be made by me and you,
it’s not the decisions that others make for us,
that bring us happiness.
standing alone is frightening,
but I do not fear the fear,
as it will make me stronger.

zick zack, stand still.
salute me, as we keep
in place.
some people call me stuck
I call me sticky,
being always broke,
as a good artist should,
not carin ’bout the money,
so ramit can nag, about another penny lost,
as there is no income,
to automate.