tottla ront i myrkre

 

 myrket har senka seg 

øve meg

lik eit

svart blaut

teppe

av syt

å jammer


tunge tanka

vitjar panna

å kvelden

den e lange

som eit

år

best å sove

tenkjer

du

ligga der

dau

i vinden

mens draumane

sig innøver

men litt

vondt ska

det ver sa

mannen.

han kløyp

seg i halsen

 

litt tungt ska

det vera

sa mannen.

han bar seg.

 

myrkret

har senka seg

øve land

mus å mann

snart går han

å legg seg

den trøytte

og gløyme

sin vonde

lei

tottla

ront

i myrkret

på leit

etter

handa

fingrane

armen

og resten

av kroppen

 

 

pottery

poetry comes naturally

like a drop

of sweat

or a fly

in your

drink
on
a hot
summers

night




poetry can

never be forced

pressured

squeezed

nor stretched

without

leaving

obvious

traces of

violence


poetry drips

from fresh

green leaves

after summers

rain

and from

the tiny mouths

of moths

so delicate

only a trained

ear may

hear


poetry

in its purest

form is

like water

to a

dry mouth

and food

to a

starving

child


poetry

flows naturally

from the well

of inspiration

that runs

beneath

and beyond

the reaches

of space

and  mind

the inter view

-So,your hearing voices ?
-yes,that is correct.
-what do they tell you ?
-they ask lots of questions
-what kind of questions ?
-all kinds of,really.
-any specific,you remember ?
-yes,they ask me if i hear voices
-and you do,don`t you ?
-i do,that much is true.
-do you reckognize these voices,familiar perhaps ?
-oh yes,they sound like people..
-anyone specific,your father in law  ?
-not my father in law
-someone elses father ?
-how should i know ?
-your the one hearing voices
-that much is true.
-have you ever asked the voices who they are ?
-ah,yes of course,several times.
-and do they reply ?
-no,they don`t like to be questioned.
-how about you,do you like  being questioned ?
-no,not at all.In fact it sucks me dry and leave me withered,and worn.
-so i better wrap it up now is that what you are saying ?
- I couldnt have said it better myself.
-try
-don`t be silly,goodbye now.
-goodbye,thank you for the interview.
-what interview ? who are you ?
-i`m the radio man upstairs.
-so thats who you are ?
-thats who i am.,Im the radio man..
-I don`t think i ever  heard you on the radio.
-thats because im IN the radio.
-you mean... ?
-that is exactly what i mean.
-youre a mean machine
.-no, simply the radio man switching your frequencies.
-my frequencies ?
-
-hello ?
- (buzzing,wheezing noise,tuning channels)

.







 

untitled

Du e som dagen
jag e som natten

du e som
regnet
jag e
som vinden


du e som
stjärnan
när den
faller

jag e
som brødskuffan
och kylskåpan

du e som
trumman
jag
slår på
och lakridsen
jag tugger
på

jag e
som gumman
i tänderna
och
kvisorna
på nasen

du e som
dagen
och kvelden
før det
mörknar

jag e
spegelen
du tittar
i
och
telefonen
du talar
til
när du
er ensam

du
e stemmen
som väkker
upp fjellorna
jag e ekkoen
som svarar
dig med
en fråga







 

Young Lemon

The door of the imagination
is not guarded
by four serious
minded
wolfs
that
sleep
with one
eye open
to keep
any trespassers
from those
lush
fields
and forests


one who
wishes to
enter
can do
so
without
the silly
challenges
and those
awkward
leaps
of faith




one who
wishes
to enter
can do so
at certain
odd moments
when time
reboots
wich
happens on
and off

its nothing
like i imagined
it to be

it creates itself
without any
effort
and asks
no questions
no matter
how weird
it gets
and
it does get
weirder

no one
ever told
you how real
a dream
could be

no one
ever
dared

for there
are secrets
within
secrets
that keep
reality
in place
so to
speak

FerOMerOm

Forces of nature Pulls
and Pushes
me in eVery way
and eVery
single
dAy

uNtamed
wildeRness
roAms wIthIn
my hOuse
of flEsh
and bOne



I speAk
to yoU noW
O`anCient beIng
of the Air
and Everywhere
Present



You
wHo
listEns
and obServes
and
whO is
rIght here
in My
twIlIght
hour




KnOw
that i
aM not
wHolly
aware
of
Thy
seCrets
aNd
Thy
waYs



But
eVer
curious
and In Awe
of
Thy
haunting
SpIrIt
that mOveth
my Hand
and mInd
in Mysterious
waYs
.







Ever hYpnotized
by Thy
meSmerising
presence
that Infiltrates
the present
With the
esSence of
a dream



eVer asleep
in a dream
of Being
awake
in a world
where reality
is a fantasy
so true
thAt It
blEeds
jUst to
proOve
it
tO
yoU

i hvert fall

Han levde i hvert fall
og nøt vinden
som bruset
gjennom
bustete
øynebryn
og nesehår
på vei
ned fra
en eller
annen
tind

han levde
i hvert fall
og de som så
ham ble
slik overbeviste
at de selv
lystet efter
høiden


når han ikke
kastet seg
utenfor bratte stup
og høyreiste bygninger
så var han
alltid
på vei
opp til
en ny
majestetisk
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