SOLITUDE and the last cigarette
Solitude and Down and Out in New York is a series of " self portraits" during my "solitude period" in Paris and Berlin in the aftermath of the breakup from my wife and art partner of ten years back in 2010. HOME-Less The second part is my documentation of the large number of homeless people in America. The question is. Why the United States of America is spending trillions of dollars on their defence budget, and that the city of Manhattan is one of the wealthiest in the world and yet we have experienced that it has the largest population of homeless people we have ever seen. Why is no one doing anything about this ? The Church, who are supposed to be Samaritans? the president who is one of the richest men in the world, and all the other many millionaires and billionaires of Manhattan ? Why have the city of NY taken most chairs and sofas and benches away from all public places. So that the unfortunate who have no home have not even a benches to sleep on. To make their lives even worse. Take the homeless people off the street. Give them some human dignity back. A room, a job, medical care and food and a chance to survive and give them their hope of life back. How can people be indifferent when they are exposed every day to human beings who have fallen down and out. After my personal experience as a homeless in New York I feel I have the right to speak for those who still are on the street, fighting to survive , every day , every night. I know their fear, the feeling of hopelessness, being so tired one don't know what day it is or where to sit, sleep or how top get something to eat. To be humiliated and seen as garbage to most passersby. I know the feeling of being totally outside all humanity. Im one of the lucky ones who got out from that hell. I feel strongly for those who are still on the street. GOD Bless them all. ALL LIVES MATTERS .
After being a smoker for over 40 years and then suffering from COPD-Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease
with under 50% of my lung capasity left I was forced to stop smoking.
This is my ironic smokering poem , a farewell to a lifestyle.
The last cigarette.
I light my cigarette , it glows It burns for you ,
I smoke this cigarette , it’s the only thing I do
before its burning out , I hope you will say yes
The time it takes to burn, is all we get, I guess
It glows it burns, and it is slowly killing me
I smoke this cigarette, to feel I’m living and I’m free
And yet I keep on smoking just to pass the time
And smoking is like loving , its certainly no crime
I want to feel the warm sensation ,like kissing you forever
I hope this cigarette will burn and burn , and you will leave me never
The smoke is filling up my lungs , It caress my lonely soul
So we have time to kiss and find that precious lovers goal
I’m just a an old romantic lad, a simple normal bloke
And all the love I feel , will maybe soon go up in smoke
I know its sounds to corny but I’m just a stupid fool
I hope this cigarette will burn forever so we can brake that rule
I smoke with passion, and inhale your femininity
I hope this cigarette will last much longer than Infinity
And that I soon will be the fire of your life
And so in smoke rings, we will be forever man and wife
I smoke this cigarette, and soon it will be nothing left then dust
It’s still a burning introduction, to release our needs and lust
The cigarette is ending fast , the time glass soon will have no sand
And still I feel I’m holding something precious, in my hand
I smoke this cigarette and remember once that you where mine
I smoke this cigarette and so I do until the end of time.