Imagine if christmas
was the time of year
when all the wealthy people
gathered their gold
& gave it to
the hungry
That would be
a christmas
to remember
tirsdag 24. desember 2013
mandag 23. desember 2013
Other Times
In the otherworld,the others are always otherwise.&,no matter what you say,no matter what you do,the others will do it the other way around,just to prove themselves & honour the code.
The other fascinating thing about them,is a vapour,or fine smoke that seems to follow them around & keep them in an otherwise protective cocoon.
Oters are furry animals who live nearby rivers & loves to chew on trees,but the others are not at all like that.Others would of course say they where otherwise,& that they infact preferred to live with a good distance from the raging rivers,& when it came to chewing,they held up an otherwise greenish vegetable wich resembled a cucumber,but did a poor job in so doing.
It appeared more like an elongated apple or a pear perhaps.
The others applauded it,stood up from their seets and hailed the little veggie as their saviour.
Sometimes, the others would remark upon,& refer to another otherworld,that sometimes overlapped their imprinted sense of otherness,& puzzled with their senses,like a child,& on occasion squeezing bits & pieces into places, where they didn`t belong.
Other times,they would sit quietly,with both knees tucked tightly under their chins,wearing oblong hats that entirely covered their otherwise moribund heads.
The other fascinating thing about them,is a vapour,or fine smoke that seems to follow them around & keep them in an otherwise protective cocoon.
Oters are furry animals who live nearby rivers & loves to chew on trees,but the others are not at all like that.Others would of course say they where otherwise,& that they infact preferred to live with a good distance from the raging rivers,& when it came to chewing,they held up an otherwise greenish vegetable wich resembled a cucumber,but did a poor job in so doing.
It appeared more like an elongated apple or a pear perhaps.
The others applauded it,stood up from their seets and hailed the little veggie as their saviour.
Sometimes, the others would remark upon,& refer to another otherworld,that sometimes overlapped their imprinted sense of otherness,& puzzled with their senses,like a child,& on occasion squeezing bits & pieces into places, where they didn`t belong.
Other times,they would sit quietly,with both knees tucked tightly under their chins,wearing oblong hats that entirely covered their otherwise moribund heads.
søndag 22. desember 2013
Lasting Impression
I was being under the impression,gazing at its highly detailed construction,when i noticed a flaw.
There was a loose screw, & a burnt fuse,that reeked of melted plastique.
So, i swiftly replaced the barbequed ignitor with a brand new,& upon connecting,i got the stark impression that everything was a.ok.
There was a deep buzz & a short beep & then all the lights turned on,revealing mysterious text that was etched into its lizard-like body,of wich no man hath seen,but in dreams within the living embryo of the unborn Gods.
Impressive,was my first impression,& upon reflection,i could see my own transfigured face in the clear,almost transparent surface, of this,this,creation of that wich cannot be,yet there it was!
There was no doubt about it,but an aura of confidence & energy to do great magic.&, before i could catch a second breath,before my two eyes,& somewhat butted nose,the impression shifted from a perfect stand still, to a slow revolving spin that appeared, only to speed up, as i stared,wild eyed.
The wind began to set the trees in motion,& soon they all danced to & fro,swaying,so & so.
The earth began to tremble,& i trembled with the earth,& all things upon the earth,& under the earth,
trembled also,but only for a second or two.
Then the impression lifted from the ground,paused in mid air,& i could see the mysterious text,glowing like red hot coal on a fireplace.It seemed to be a message of sorts,&, as i tried to read it,a voice in my head, explained the text.It was about me, hearing a voice in my head, who explained everything to me.
I was like,Wha..Huh?
& before i snapped back to my sense of I,the impression shot off,like a mosquito into the air,
& it was no longer there,but a lasting impression, within an impression,that appeared to remain on my optical screen for hours.
It was something,i tell ya.
Sometimes are moments not mentioned on our ordinary timetable,& surprise us,rocks our boat & rattles our brains even.Sometimes, we have no better word for it,yet it communicates this unknown dimension in our daily schedules,where time does not move according to our ideas of proper direction.
so make no plans,but let sometimes do the planning for ye
& kiss the monkey.
Feed the donkey & bless the little birds.
Whistle with all thy might,or whistle to thy own pleasing
but Whistle!
& Let the shrill of sweet music from thy heart
be a joy to the ear of air
& her beloved who`s very name
is Everywhere
There was a loose screw, & a burnt fuse,that reeked of melted plastique.
So, i swiftly replaced the barbequed ignitor with a brand new,& upon connecting,i got the stark impression that everything was a.ok.
There was a deep buzz & a short beep & then all the lights turned on,revealing mysterious text that was etched into its lizard-like body,of wich no man hath seen,but in dreams within the living embryo of the unborn Gods.
Impressive,was my first impression,& upon reflection,i could see my own transfigured face in the clear,almost transparent surface, of this,this,creation of that wich cannot be,yet there it was!
There was no doubt about it,but an aura of confidence & energy to do great magic.&, before i could catch a second breath,before my two eyes,& somewhat butted nose,the impression shifted from a perfect stand still, to a slow revolving spin that appeared, only to speed up, as i stared,wild eyed.
The wind began to set the trees in motion,& soon they all danced to & fro,swaying,so & so.
The earth began to tremble,& i trembled with the earth,& all things upon the earth,& under the earth,
trembled also,but only for a second or two.
Then the impression lifted from the ground,paused in mid air,& i could see the mysterious text,glowing like red hot coal on a fireplace.It seemed to be a message of sorts,&, as i tried to read it,a voice in my head, explained the text.It was about me, hearing a voice in my head, who explained everything to me.
I was like,Wha..Huh?
& before i snapped back to my sense of I,the impression shot off,like a mosquito into the air,
& it was no longer there,but a lasting impression, within an impression,that appeared to remain on my optical screen for hours.
It was something,i tell ya.
Sometimes are moments not mentioned on our ordinary timetable,& surprise us,rocks our boat & rattles our brains even.Sometimes, we have no better word for it,yet it communicates this unknown dimension in our daily schedules,where time does not move according to our ideas of proper direction.
so make no plans,but let sometimes do the planning for ye
& kiss the monkey.
Feed the donkey & bless the little birds.
Whistle with all thy might,or whistle to thy own pleasing
but Whistle!
& Let the shrill of sweet music from thy heart
be a joy to the ear of air
& her beloved who`s very name
is Everywhere
fredag 20. desember 2013
Sesame- sesame
Open that rusty old door of your mind & let it guide you to another place in time,where chances are,that you will meet some very interesting people,whom you never imagined existed.Once they start to chat ,your perception of thoughts,will never be the same again.You will come to realize who, & what is fueling the loco-motives of thought,& you will understand that, what psychology have told you, about the mechanisms of the mind,are but a picture of flowers in black & white.
Once you start to listen to these people, who are beyond what we conceive as time,your old maps of the world are slowly added colours,newly discovered countries,breathtaking landscapes & jeweled cities within cities.
&, once you start to act, according to their jaw-wobbling information,you find yourself doing things, of wich you only dreamed was possible.&, when that happens,you will reveal that you have awakened in the midst of a very good dream, more real than you had ever dared imagine a dream could be.
We learn to close our minds when we grow up, & join the adult corporations.
Open minded ness, are oft likened to a childs behaviour,& something we learn to be ashamed of.
When this happens,we close our minds,& settle with a narrow perception of reality to fit in.
Returning to open minded ness, can start,once the cold shame, of having a playful imagination,seizes to block the mind from recieving impulses, from the Open source.
One daily practise of efficient power,is the freeflow of words, from whatever corner of your mind, that you are in,& then when ,upon reckognizing, the value of that particular corner,use that reckognition, like a spark to a firecracker, or a gnist of flint onto spilled engine fuel!
True values are subjective, & found upon digging,dancing,rock climbing,singing in parties or in a beautiful memory of a summers day that suddendly plays itself again to the thrill & ecstasy of the soul.
The mere act of writing,adding a sentence of words before another,acts as a springboard into the unfathomable recesses of imagination, into wich timeless tales have drowned together with their tellers,only to make them a beautifully haunting part of the great untold myths, that swirl all the way to the bottomless pit,& up again.
The bermuda triangle of the mind is very much a real place to the experienced psychonaut.
There are places on earth,wich are governed by forces of wich we know little.Oracles that speaks in tounge,& in such an provocing tone,that one may easily suspect being the very inspiration of their oft vile utterings.
There are giant creatures moving around on this earth,of wich only mad people & seers in caves,dares to mention.&,should you care to ask them to describe their soulshaking sightseeings,you may regret upon doing so.There may be parts of their stories, that doesnt compute with your program,& creates a hole,into wich all kinds of unexplainable fairies enter with a peculiar freude.
But then again,
you may be amused of your new inspirations,& leave them to play as they see fit.
You never know when they may come in handy.There are times & then there are times,but somewhere in between,there are moments wich are not made of the hours,but of the presence of Spirit.
The experience of time, not slowing down,but stopping alltogether,creating a mysterious feeling of being in a vacuum, that cleanseth & restoreth one in whole.Divine intervention is another colourful expression, to communicate this happening,so far out of the ordinary.
This is where the mind learns of a place, that is not limited, neither in height,nor in width,& if one should happen to look down,there would be nothing to speak of.
This is the open source,where anything goes.This is where the mind learns, that the only way of being open,is to maintain that splendid view...that space of being,where time cannot enter,but a delightful feeling of freedom to create absolutely nothing at all &, yet,in that void of nothingness,is the power to create anything of one`s hearts desire.
Move now forth, & think not about Thy workings.But work,& let Thy mind rest in Thy creation.
Create Thou,that wich alerts Thy Genius to parttake in Thine art,& be joyous of its excellent company.
Also,be Thou charmed by its splendid guidance,&, with a childs wonder,be awed of the wonderful inspirations that flow from Thee.
For it is in that very awe of affection,that utter bliss,that Thou knowest not,yet knowest all.
Plunge Thyself headlong, into the abyssmal engulfment of nothing,& listen Thou,to the silence of the present mind, as it devours pains of Thy past & worries of thy future.
Once you start to listen to these people, who are beyond what we conceive as time,your old maps of the world are slowly added colours,newly discovered countries,breathtaking landscapes & jeweled cities within cities.
&, once you start to act, according to their jaw-wobbling information,you find yourself doing things, of wich you only dreamed was possible.&, when that happens,you will reveal that you have awakened in the midst of a very good dream, more real than you had ever dared imagine a dream could be.
We learn to close our minds when we grow up, & join the adult corporations.
Open minded ness, are oft likened to a childs behaviour,& something we learn to be ashamed of.
When this happens,we close our minds,& settle with a narrow perception of reality to fit in.
Returning to open minded ness, can start,once the cold shame, of having a playful imagination,seizes to block the mind from recieving impulses, from the Open source.
One daily practise of efficient power,is the freeflow of words, from whatever corner of your mind, that you are in,& then when ,upon reckognizing, the value of that particular corner,use that reckognition, like a spark to a firecracker, or a gnist of flint onto spilled engine fuel!
True values are subjective, & found upon digging,dancing,rock climbing,singing in parties or in a beautiful memory of a summers day that suddendly plays itself again to the thrill & ecstasy of the soul.
The mere act of writing,adding a sentence of words before another,acts as a springboard into the unfathomable recesses of imagination, into wich timeless tales have drowned together with their tellers,only to make them a beautifully haunting part of the great untold myths, that swirl all the way to the bottomless pit,& up again.
The bermuda triangle of the mind is very much a real place to the experienced psychonaut.
There are places on earth,wich are governed by forces of wich we know little.Oracles that speaks in tounge,& in such an provocing tone,that one may easily suspect being the very inspiration of their oft vile utterings.
There are giant creatures moving around on this earth,of wich only mad people & seers in caves,dares to mention.&,should you care to ask them to describe their soulshaking sightseeings,you may regret upon doing so.There may be parts of their stories, that doesnt compute with your program,& creates a hole,into wich all kinds of unexplainable fairies enter with a peculiar freude.
But then again,
you may be amused of your new inspirations,& leave them to play as they see fit.
You never know when they may come in handy.There are times & then there are times,but somewhere in between,there are moments wich are not made of the hours,but of the presence of Spirit.
The experience of time, not slowing down,but stopping alltogether,creating a mysterious feeling of being in a vacuum, that cleanseth & restoreth one in whole.Divine intervention is another colourful expression, to communicate this happening,so far out of the ordinary.
This is where the mind learns of a place, that is not limited, neither in height,nor in width,& if one should happen to look down,there would be nothing to speak of.
This is the open source,where anything goes.This is where the mind learns, that the only way of being open,is to maintain that splendid view...that space of being,where time cannot enter,but a delightful feeling of freedom to create absolutely nothing at all &, yet,in that void of nothingness,is the power to create anything of one`s hearts desire.
Move now forth, & think not about Thy workings.But work,& let Thy mind rest in Thy creation.
Create Thou,that wich alerts Thy Genius to parttake in Thine art,& be joyous of its excellent company.
Also,be Thou charmed by its splendid guidance,&, with a childs wonder,be awed of the wonderful inspirations that flow from Thee.
For it is in that very awe of affection,that utter bliss,that Thou knowest not,yet knowest all.
Plunge Thyself headlong, into the abyssmal engulfment of nothing,& listen Thou,to the silence of the present mind, as it devours pains of Thy past & worries of thy future.
tirsdag 17. desember 2013
Noidi
The old noidi took her drum & slowly started to beat.I laid back & relaxed,closing mine eyes.
Soon i was under its hypnotic spell & fell deeply within myself.
I could feel something coming,approaching from out of nowhere,& then i saw a shape, hurrying towards me, but in slow motion.A horse, or perhaps a large dog it was,dodging its head up & down,nearing me with every forward leap.Then there was a loud crack,pulling me back to my room with the old noidi.
A powerful wind forced itself on the walls of my cottage,threatening to flatten it.
The old noidi pointed his finger on her drum.There was drawn a dog with horses mane, running.
In the same instance she removed her finger from his drum,the wind stopped,and it was silent again.
I listened for a while,but there was no storm roaming outside.The old noidi hid her face,but i could nevertheless feel him smiling from behind her cover up of shadows & light.
Somedays later i would find myself working with great energy,& Lo! In my dreams i would run across great plains,competing with gazelles & wild horses.
It also did occur that i woke in the dusk of morning, with sore leg muscles,& the all too familiar horses breath.
& there was more,but details of such privacy,that i aught not reveal them here,lest i be corrupted by temptations of my imagination,Nay, worse,the lingering ecchoes of my egoic eruptions.
The old noidi pointed his finger on her drum.There was drawn a dog with horses mane, running.
In the same instance she removed her finger from his drum,the wind stopped,and it was silent again.
I listened for a while,but there was no storm roaming outside.The old noidi hid her face,but i could nevertheless feel him smiling from behind her cover up of shadows & light.
Somedays later i would find myself working with great energy,& Lo! In my dreams i would run across great plains,competing with gazelles & wild horses.
It also did occur that i woke in the dusk of morning, with sore leg muscles,& the all too familiar horses breath.
& there was more,but details of such privacy,that i aught not reveal them here,lest i be corrupted by temptations of my imagination,Nay, worse,the lingering ecchoes of my egoic eruptions.
Cats & winter
In the winter when the weather gets dull
the cats gets bored & find
nothing better to
do than
follow me
around
watching
my every move
like i was
a mouse
to their
feeding
it can be pretty
intense
i even have
a cat roaming
the roof
above me
tipping to
& fro
like the
second floor
neigbour
you didnt
realize
you had
but have
& appears
everytime you
open the
refrigerator
door
hoping i will
fry som delicious
chicken
again
like i
did the other
day
cats remember
stuff like
that
it lingers
in their memory
until
they forget
about it
wich can
take
days
until
their
next
special
treat
day
so there ya
have it
my days
are cats day
everyday
during winter
they are full
of love
and spirit
& teach
me of
patience
& beyond
it can be pretty
intense
i even have
a cat roaming
the roof
above me
tipping to
& fro
like the
second floor
neigbour
you didnt
realize
you had
but have
& appears
everytime you
open the
refrigerator
door
hoping i will
fry som delicious
chicken
again
like i
did the other
day
cats remember
stuff like
that
it lingers
in their memory
until
they forget
about it
wich can
take
days
until
their
next
special
treat
day
so there ya
have it
my days
are cats day
everyday
during winter
they are full
of love
and spirit
& teach
me of
patience
& beyond
søndag 15. desember 2013
Ode to coca leaf
The purity of your heart has moved me
& for this
To fight against the utter darkness
That lies in the depths of Pachamama
To endure the cold
Hunger
& the sadness
Of the hearts separated from your father
I`ll give you a gift for your brothers
Ascend that high hill
Where you will find a small plant
But of great strength
Store with love her leaves & when you feel
Pain in your heart
Hunger in your flesh
& darkness in your mind
Take them to your mouth
& with gentleness
They will draw out your spirit
That is part of mine
You will attain love for your sorrow
Nourishment for your body
& light for your mind
(author yet unknown)
& for this
To fight against the utter darkness
That lies in the depths of Pachamama
To endure the cold
Hunger
& the sadness
Of the hearts separated from your father
I`ll give you a gift for your brothers
Ascend that high hill
Where you will find a small plant
But of great strength
Store with love her leaves & when you feel
Pain in your heart
Hunger in your flesh
& darkness in your mind
Take them to your mouth
& with gentleness
They will draw out your spirit
That is part of mine
You will attain love for your sorrow
Nourishment for your body
& light for your mind
(author yet unknown)
Abonner på:
Innlegg (Atom)