Day 1572, stale.

Day's pictures, Poetry

Day 1572.jpg

I can not open

the window

from where I sit


I can see

some of the horizon

but it is the smell

that I think

I miss


I can get up

but it is still

not to stale

where I sit

I sometimes wonder why I write these poems. I don’t do it for the attention I think. They are posted on my blog and I get a notification if a like button is pressed. I have never met a stranger in the real world that told me they liked my poetry, besides my family, and they have no choice. It’s just a notification on my phone and as far as I know these likes are some kind of Pavlovian reaction from the people that also get a notification, I am sorry if I offended anyone but from where I sit this is one of the conclusions 😉

Imagine that we all live on a big dusty rock and that the time this rock exist has the duration of a blink of an eye in cosmos time, there is no rime or reason to this all. You can off course invent a God, become a Buddhist or just don’t give a damn. Or maybe you never ask yourself these questions because you like the answers you have.

As long as I can remember I have never liked answers. As a sensitive person I always felt the uncertainty and chaos in the world that I met. If the grown-ups in your world are inconsistent. If your father and mother say yes for life and then divorce. I learned very young that no one knows, but at most pretend.

So why do I write these poems? Mankind is telling each other how to live for several millennia by now. Thousands of famous thinkers have written countless books telling us how we work and/or should work. All this knowledge has made the world more peaceful, but I am afraid we have just started this journey and only habit, conformism and law’s keeps us away from the bad kind of anarchism we see seeping over the boiling pot.

So why do I write these poems? I don’t even know that I write poems. I make a picture every day and I use the little knowledge I have of philosophy as fertilizer to grow a witty combination of words that make me think and smile. I call it poetry because that’s the word we use for these kinds of word plays. It makes me feel good and it gives me hope that someone might ask me what it means, and then you can make something that is meaningful while we sit on this rock, a good conversation and the best way to grow till the end.

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