its almost impossible
to get out of the trap
even when you know
you gotta roll with the punches
but they keep coming
reality pounding down
until you find yourself
in silly town
thinking thoughts
and anti-thoughts
making plans
and unplanning
go travel, dont want to be
anywhere not even here
they tell you to
get back in the game
back on the stage
do it for the energy man
share your gift, your talent
your songs and skills
yeah i know but fuck man
i’m so tired and modern humans
creep me out
eventually you just book a flight
to tenerife and then book
a hostel on the beach
few weeks of sun, ocean, volcanoes
drink cold beer, walk in the sand
eat oranges, play guitar
to strangers and pretty girls
come back to the mainland
walk the camino
up from portugal
towards home
where is home?
i dont even know
this planet is my home
i have no country, no god
no ideology, no age
i am a poet living outside time
my passports says shit
that nobody believes in anymore
that world is over
we are in a new era
of poetry, mysticism, fruit
movement and Love.
