There is no greater power
than that of silence
in the communication
of peace
but second to silence
is the power of words
& the hypnotic state
in wich they leave
their "victim"
there are more to Words
than what is written
in a hundred books
nay,a trillion books
words themselves
are the medium of spirit
& may bring about
miracles & strange wonders
when the "victim"
succumbs,as it where,
to their
deeper meaning
& soon after mutates into
greater
wellness & being
there are more to words,than meets the eye
but more than that is often
too much
words are thoughts made visible
& act as containers of thruths & lies
to the amusement of the many
& the few
but be on the watch,& pay attention to every word as they seek shelter in the back yard
of thy mind,&may lay there dormant until such & such an occasion arrives where they come in handy,or even intrusive & filthy upon thy innocense.
speakers of words may know of the effects of their off-spring,
or they may be wholly unaware of any reaction & end up in a fistfight with Brutus.
many speakers of words,have been through hell &back because of their oft vile urges to xpress their anger or love with such an selection of words,that compares with that one cannot compare anything with.
speakers of words would know what i speak of
though they would swiftly refuse to let these words
become their own
for then they will
to the chiming of token bells
become the speakers
not of their own
genuine words
but of someone elses
genuine words
& people who hear the words
of the speakers
will wonder who
spoke the genuine words
they just heard
in the first place
being spoken
by the speaker
who`s growing insecurity
ticks nervously
away like a
wall
mounted clock
from back then
before i can remember
any greater detail
but approximately
1925
genuinely speaking
from the heart of the master
wich is beast & man
in one
is an art
much like
dancing
but not so much like
mountaneering
or maple syrup
wich is one favorite
of mine
mountaneering
requires every full breath of air
in a pace syncroniced
with the earth
maple syrup is too good
to speak of
one have to merge
with the flavourous sap
& become the holy tree
søndag 2. mars 2014
mandag 24. februar 2014
En blogg om alt mellom himmel og jord: Wants fra TopShop
En blogg om alt mellom himmel og jord: Wants fra TopShop: Bonjour! : ) Jeg virkelig elsker TopShop. Synn de ikke har den butikken her i Norge, men da skulle jeg lovt dere at lommeboka mi fort gikk t...
onsdag 12. februar 2014
lørdag 25. januar 2014
In the air tonight
Ufo is a concept
like spirit or
entity
it can be anything
in & of the ether
or even without
it alltogether
to merge with our mental atmosphere
it will use marvelous tools
prearranged for
its emergence
the spaceship is a familiar
with its futuristic
& high tech abilities
that satisfies our time
perception of the fantastic
In the olden days
before the movies & picture books,
there where hoards of spirits,leprechauns,phantoms,gods of nature,fairies & trolls,
who visited humans & made them, sometimes, wholly disappear,loose entirely their wits,& later perhaps, found deranged in the wildeness,feeding on moss,bark & raw meat.But not all the time.
On other occasions,they would return invigorated,& portrayed a wisdom & cunning,like that of personified owls,or wizards of old.
Today this mindboggling magic
have other ways of disclosing itself
in & by our collective & preprogrammed subconcious perception
of that unexplainable phenomenal
there`s a movie running in the background
& whoever takes a look behind
the curtains will notice
Steven Spielberg,enjoying
a box of unpopped
corn
wich he pops
in his mouth
he will tell you that you where not supposed to discover this
& then he will throw unpopped kernels at you
to make you somehow forget what you just saw
most of the times Steven succeed
but there are times when
he doesn`t,& thats when a story like this,arrives at the station of the daily.
He imagined a spaceship & one day it came blinking & tooting & took him along
far away into the stars of a neighbouring universe yonder time.
But he longed for his earthly habits,& soon he reemerged from the great beyond & this is what he didn`t say & this is what he didn`t do & it was all good ,he twice thought to himself,lest his lofty memory should catch a breeze .
There was something in the air that night
& every breath he took
made the stars & the
sky move closer
& closer
& with one more inhalation
he became one with
it all
& it was great
like spirit or
entity
it can be anything
in & of the ether
or even without
it alltogether
to merge with our mental atmosphere
it will use marvelous tools
prearranged for
its emergence
the spaceship is a familiar
with its futuristic
& high tech abilities
that satisfies our time
perception of the fantastic
In the olden days
before the movies & picture books,
there where hoards of spirits,leprechauns,phantoms,gods of nature,fairies & trolls,
who visited humans & made them, sometimes, wholly disappear,loose entirely their wits,& later perhaps, found deranged in the wildeness,feeding on moss,bark & raw meat.But not all the time.
On other occasions,they would return invigorated,& portrayed a wisdom & cunning,like that of personified owls,or wizards of old.
Today this mindboggling magic
have other ways of disclosing itself
in & by our collective & preprogrammed subconcious perception
of that unexplainable phenomenal
there`s a movie running in the background
& whoever takes a look behind
the curtains will notice
Steven Spielberg,enjoying
a box of unpopped
corn
wich he pops
in his mouth
he will tell you that you where not supposed to discover this
& then he will throw unpopped kernels at you
to make you somehow forget what you just saw
most of the times Steven succeed
but there are times when
he doesn`t,& thats when a story like this,arrives at the station of the daily.
He imagined a spaceship & one day it came blinking & tooting & took him along
far away into the stars of a neighbouring universe yonder time.
But he longed for his earthly habits,& soon he reemerged from the great beyond & this is what he didn`t say & this is what he didn`t do & it was all good ,he twice thought to himself,lest his lofty memory should catch a breeze .
There was something in the air that night
& every breath he took
made the stars & the
sky move closer
& closer
& with one more inhalation
he became one with
it all
& it was great
onsdag 22. januar 2014
Pain,the.
I look for pain
in every pleasure
& pleasure
in every pain
im a painful pleasure
seeker
finding pleasure
where i hurt
& hurt where
pleasure is found
im a human being
a mix of animal
& something else
of wich i have both
humerous & tragic
ideas
so i search for the true pain of living
the bloody weltschmertz
of the world
where i see myself looking back
with an agreeable appearance
& not the clownish & colourful
in wich i despair
the clownish part is my secret
but my pain is real & unclothed
& gives me character & sympathy
with fellow arms men
or so they used to
say
in the army boot camp
i was raised in pain
& reckognize only truth
in the hurting of myself or my fellow men
pain is the last of the masks
that appears to be of
the flesh
the original expression
of the brute
who`s animal
nature have been
denied for as long
as there have
been caves
& prisons
My sympathy & admiration
to people who`s pain
make my own pain more
endurable
for is it not written
that when there is no more
room in hell
the dead will walk
the earth?
there is so much written information
that will convince you of the other fascinating subject,after another
& leave you wondering how someone in the past
know exactly what you are thinking right now.
A synchronisation of minds swimming among the waves & streams of abyssmal sea of time,& in their merging,a reaction,a noise in the walls,a sudden gush of wind,or perhaps a hiccup.
Listen to the voice of the one who`s pain is greater than himself,& be forever in awe of her nervewrecking revelations.
To the one who`s pain is smaller than himself,listen not & turn hastingly away from his lying abodes.
For in his words are but maggots & in his mind is but murder.
True pain reveals itself only to the ones who know what hurting is all about.Like a familiar sigil or a totem of untold tales.
Pain is the only beauty, that beauty,the only beauty there is.The pain of existence is the pain of beauty & the love of the same.
Behind every great & manly laughter
there is an equally profound pain
Listen thou to the pain behind
that laugh of the jolly one
& rejoice not
but reflect upon
that clever hiding
of his true name
for it is in the hiding
& in the hiding
is it
hidden
& beautiful
all the same
in every pleasure
& pleasure
in every pain
im a painful pleasure
seeker
finding pleasure
where i hurt
& hurt where
pleasure is found
im a human being
a mix of animal
& something else
of wich i have both
humerous & tragic
ideas
so i search for the true pain of living
the bloody weltschmertz
of the world
where i see myself looking back
with an agreeable appearance
& not the clownish & colourful
in wich i despair
the clownish part is my secret
but my pain is real & unclothed
& gives me character & sympathy
with fellow arms men
or so they used to
say
in the army boot camp
i was raised in pain
& reckognize only truth
in the hurting of myself or my fellow men
pain is the last of the masks
that appears to be of
the flesh
the original expression
of the brute
who`s animal
nature have been
denied for as long
as there have
been caves
& prisons
My sympathy & admiration
to people who`s pain
make my own pain more
endurable
for is it not written
that when there is no more
room in hell
the dead will walk
the earth?
there is so much written information
that will convince you of the other fascinating subject,after another
& leave you wondering how someone in the past
know exactly what you are thinking right now.
A synchronisation of minds swimming among the waves & streams of abyssmal sea of time,& in their merging,a reaction,a noise in the walls,a sudden gush of wind,or perhaps a hiccup.
Listen to the voice of the one who`s pain is greater than himself,& be forever in awe of her nervewrecking revelations.
To the one who`s pain is smaller than himself,listen not & turn hastingly away from his lying abodes.
For in his words are but maggots & in his mind is but murder.
True pain reveals itself only to the ones who know what hurting is all about.Like a familiar sigil or a totem of untold tales.
Pain is the only beauty, that beauty,the only beauty there is.The pain of existence is the pain of beauty & the love of the same.
Behind every great & manly laughter
there is an equally profound pain
Listen thou to the pain behind
that laugh of the jolly one
& rejoice not
but reflect upon
that clever hiding
of his true name
for it is in the hiding
& in the hiding
is it
hidden
& beautiful
all the same
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