Off the road

Don’t know where I am going
Don’t know where I have been
I’m on a road to nowhere
No destination to be seen

Don’t see a speed sign when there is one
Don’t know how to slow down
I’ve been on the road to nowhere
From the day I left our town

When I wake up in the morning
I get myself a beer
I know the future is uncertain
But the end cannot be near
I’m on a road to nowhere
living in high gear

I know what I am knowing
I can’t say what I have seen
It make me take this road to nowhere
I’m not who I have been

Here on this dark desert highway
If I ever see a shimmering light
and I smell the smell of colitas
I will stop for the night

If they dance in the courtyard,
then – and only then
I will stay off off this road to nowhere
And I’ll never get back again

 

 

 

 

Homo militus

If looks could kill
the’d be banned in my country
we’d throw all eyes overboard
and learn how to see without them

If pigs could fly
they’d be exploited in my country
we’d put saddles on their backs
and turn them into private airlines

If fly looks could kill
they’d be exported by my country
we’d protect our own
and make money of yours

If pigs could salute the flag
would they fly
kill
or make money?

The enemy within

The enemy within
strikes one
a homerun

I take a mirror
to strike back

The enemy within
hits home

I smash the mirror
and paint a self portrait
of my brain
bleeding

The prompt at napowrimo.net was to write a poem that engages with one of the other arts. I’m away all day, but found this one. Not in my notebook this time, but in my wallet, written on a receipt.