Winther Motivation
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2008


I can't concentrate
When I have things to do
All winter I have things to do
The winter brings here nimbus fumes

So as I sit here and watch cartoons
In lack of occasional motivational monsunes
The snow blows cold outside this pure room
The snowflakes flows over the bold and broken dunes

I feel like an old and demotivated drunken fool
I long for the spring and the remotivating reservoire
Of sunshine and flowers and fresh shit and joy
Memories bring me back to my times as a boy

Only it's just artificial...
I don't really remember...
The time flows without whittle...
All the way down to December...

A time where nights get darker more
And no snow stays on our muddulled floor
And no light is shed from the covering clouds
They clammer viciously and cramp the sky in crowds

I wish I could shoot a little puff and devour it
A whisper of nimbus splitting, the sunshine warm and uplifting
I wish I could spite without dispute it's existance
The fumes of cloud retorical, darkness in icurable

I feel like a sick and broken down human
Without meaning moving or big goals in sight
I long for a spring when the light blends our view then
And at only this thought I smile in delight

But soon I realize...
That it was just a vision...
I come to despise...
The winter without division...

When there comes no light from behind the grey clouds
And our hope hides back there
And ww all wish but we don't say out loud
That the sky should be clear

And we wait, and we wait
And we don't know what to say
Hour becomes hour
Day becomes day

And we wait, and we wait
Until night becomes day
And until the clouds
Have shifted

And my motivation comes drifting
All back, to me