This silent anger.

What is it calledthis Silent AngerAnger without a voicewithout a note.Words and insults are scatteredby the shepherds of ignorance.Their wolves are untamed

they eat the light of the mind.

Moods so heavy that tears can be seen.

So what is it called...This silent anger.

I wash my sins

turn them in lye.

A tray filled with tears

floating over

and to earth they fall.

Like rain.

Running

Like the wind

I turnand see the sun in a crack

shining on the raindrops

falling off my body.

I have washed my sins

to earth they fall

like rain, and like grass they die

Floating thoughtsdrifting hometo safety.Longing for motherLonging for Father.- who calls out for the child.Home is far awaymother is busy.The child cries alone

Today the rain fell

Today the rain felllike a hundred blessingsyeslike seven hundredand I stopped. Looked around meonce more,felttried- Nothing.I felt nothing.I stood outsideme.But I heard.I heard voicesyesseven hundred voicesin the rain.Today the rain fell

The body shatters
in peaces which spreads
where sorrow reign
I see only darkness.

Plagued by the Lord
who smiles
towards the sun
that sets.

It is endured
in the passion of the pain
on the border to death
sits the soul.

The empty absence of loss
longin for past
suits my thought.

The good is forgotten.

He is sitting
defeated.

Neglected by hardness,
and good words are easely forgotten..
- before they came to him.

Tearstrangled and heavy
but without tears
he looks up at me.

The clock are stopped by strangulation
- for time is still by heavy looks.
The Lord lets the world see
these tears wich are running
from the face in pain.

The water sees the blood coming.
Mixed.
The Pure is pure no more.

I do not wish for the Fall of Life
but this is the spring that speaks.
A new summer is coming.

He stands up
without help

from me

Comes shame.

The penance for the defeats of my soul
shall be payed by my absent hand.

I silence shall I suffer
once again.

We take eachother hands
and walk away.

Silent thoughts weight
- heavy and weak words
in forgivness,
we give a concent on peace.

For many times
will I fall.

A new day - welcome.

The pulse is inceasing in raising fog.
Hasty and strange humans with heavy burdens
comes running towards the informer.
They are imprissoned by the same pulse.

The nation is poring out the adrenali.
The guiders of physichs is shouting in
the safety of the gold.

Fat are the winetendrils politics.

Weepingly rises the value of the safe inviroment of the home,
where the childs play on marble is replaced byt The Big Nothing.

The streets become restless
and fear becomes a cup of coffee.
A pause on the battlefield.

It is clear - the view to the clouds
is lusted only by the outcasts.
Women screams,
men is bowing.

Towns, cities and lands turn their keyes,
starts the engines.

It is monday in the world and the fog is gone.

For a while.

Welcome.

Breakingpoint

There...

where I walked
and layed down my past
as well as my future,

is gone now.

I will never forget how I danced
in the winds of the asfalt breeze.
My thoughts and I.