There are only bad habits

Vacation, and the mind is free. Then I scribble something, unleash it upon Earth where only a handful might read it:

Stop for a moment
And watch around
Hush for a second
And hear the sound

Think of your past step
And watch the road ahead
Pick up a fight
And try to flight

Break your habits
Stop living by one’s wits
Take another curve
And make some surf

A depressing chore

Sometimes something hits me, and I’m lucky to survive so I can write it down. The following was written on a tram in Krak√≥w (Poland). It’s probably not beautiful, it’s just how I felt. We had a splendid night out however.

Very depressing! Careful!

A depressing chore.
Sometime the world did go insane,
Sometime someone pushed it down the drain,
Sometimes blood colors the rain,
and it never looked the same

Now breathing became a chore,
and the air is on sale in-store,
every done year feels like keeping a score
Sometime men got a brain,
Sometime someone outsmarted a flame,
Sometimes making it better is just in vain,
as long as we stay humane

Now that we walk no more,
and all life is getting sore,
there is no point keeping the score


Temptation is haunting my head
It’s keeping me a stranger to my bed
Tormenting me like a nightmare
It’s making the moment hard to bare

I have this grip in my fingers
and a smell that lingers
I have this taste on my tongue
and mind blowing song

Temptation is all around
It’s waiting to be found
Dwelling inside and showing
It’s crawling and crawling

Happy Bad Poetry

Happy Bad Poetry

Once furled, today we awake
The dark days take a turn into Spring
Here comes the sun, sparkling in the lake
Unfolding our hearts and make us sing

People walking, talking, running around
Dogs bark and chase imaginary game
The ice cracks, snow makes way for ground
The melted water overflows the drain

In between I am running and burning fat
With Mr. Lazy lurking me back to bed
Saying hello to each one, but feeling sad
I’m contemplating this bad poetry in my head


It’s coming back that is hard
Back to where one grew up
had his first kiss and beer

That going back is heavy on the heart
heavy like a stone you once got up
you threw and happy it was just near

Memories are haunting
or revive what you have done
I have the images, the feelings,
that I have to overcome.