oh sweet pain,
i know you well,
showing me that I live,
don’t hurt me bad, only show me the moves,
quit the stagnation,
start the fight.
the sweat, avoiding blood, sometimes a few strains.
only resistance will shape me.

without challenges I won’t evolve,
without fears I won’t cross borders,
we don’t have to suffer to feel good.
it’s only the random pain,
that allows us to have good times.

there is no good without bad,
but is there bad without good?

the sun rises,
light hits softly,
even though the yellow ball is hid behind the urban colored clouds.
we have what others want,
we don’t need some UV50.

pouring down, like someone is taking the piss at us.
no dance or sacrifice of virgins,
it simply happens.
european sunrises filled with beautiful blue drops.

full-throttle, still nothing moves.
the clouds pass by,
the sun rises,
but the horizon stays the same,
no sign of velocity lines.

It’s obvious,
breaking stops the engine.
stagnation while firing ’till exhaustion,
never going anywhere.

sticking to what we can,
slacking, dabbling, doodling, ranting, sitting, smoothing, procrasting.

they say in 2030 we all published something,
I say most people will struggle with the act of doing,
which will result in the usual 20/80 rate.

nothing will change,
unless confrontations arise,
putting us closer to the edge,
challenging our comfort zones.

what do we do when g does not know it?
does it still exist,
is it underground,
or do we have to erase it from our memories?

finding everything, knowing nothing,
only delivering what you are looking for.

no solutions, no answers by itself,
just being there when you look for it.

he wants to be a pusher
but is too weak to not be mugged
too scared to go out in the street
and sell his product on the corner.

stayin at home pushing pixels
late at night, early in the day
pixel after pixel
needing no face-time.

his passive does it for him
so he can be the geek he always was.

afraid not of the people on the other side of the flickering gate
cause that’s the only time he has no fear at all.
alone.

52 Cards, 4 of them aces must be the reason for all those lost races.
don’t need no dog or horse runnin,
dancin with the cards, that’s all needed to lose.
suffering, for no money, no fame, inglorious workers,
pushing cents to the fish below the neon-lights, swimming, drowning,
not cool enough to be surfing.

it’s 12 at night I am still awake
listening to the beautiful sounds of my youth
that I carry around with me every day
through the soft ringing in my ears.

documents of the concerts, songs and games I played
sweet like old scarred skin remembering silly mistakes
of fooling around.

the mind is the only thing that plays those tricks on me.
the clock does not tick but it’s already 12.30
and my song of silence keeps me awake
one second at a time, not being the lullaby I desperately need.

time passes by while I sit and watch
the streaming of the flow through digital screens.
oh how we all love precious toys, as we men are like wee boys
wasting hours in front of digital worlds, dreaming other people’s dreams.

I see michael dying, read about dead dirty dancers, or hear songs about revolts chanted by little birds,
and I don’t need newspaper or TV to know what’s happening today.

but do I know what’s happening outside that little 30 inch frame,
shining through the dark into my bleeched face?