Das Jahr der Bombe

Oil on wood, 1987, 60cm x 50cm

These picture based upon a little poem, which I had to discuss in an english-test as a 19y old man in high-school. It was written by a 14y old boy. Remarkable!

For what purpose was I born

For what purpose was I born? I don't see.
To speak words that no one will listen to
No matter how loud I shout them?
To throw up dates, and events
Just as I recorded them and be pronounced
A genius? To sit through school day after
Day and be referred to as a "good child"?
To hear things that I shouldn't and then be
Instructed to forget?

For what reason am I living? To see
Man destroy each other, and we listen
To them preach goodliness and good-will?
To take things as they are and never question?
To live a clean life, only to rot away in your
Grave? To have things your soul desires prohibited?
To be told God is good, but disregard the fact
That the world - his so-called "creation" -
Is bad?

But these are thoughts I must
Not think if I am to survive.
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