mat

Middagen spiste han ofte for seg selv
men det hendte han hadde plass
til mer og da åt
han for flere
personer
og gosset
seg

omvendt

Det er ikkje slik eg trur,eller slik eg tenkjer.Men omvendt,eller opp ner,med ein twist som  går i spiraler utover først,og senere innover.Alt etter når og kordan eg oppfattar det.
Godt å vete for kvar gong eg inbillar meg at eg kjenner sannheten og har alle svara.
Godt å vete kvar gong eg skremmar meg med meg sjølve,for å fylle tia med uhyggje og skrekk.
Det er ikkje slik eg trur det er.Fantasien min utgjer seg for å vere virkeligheten,og den gjer ein god jobb,men med tia ein lever vil ein avdekkje at alt det ein går og trur og tenkjer,ikkje er anna en produkt av ein overaktiv fantasi.-(Oppspinn fra den ene enden til den andre)

Godt å vete at haudet er lik ein radio med mange kanalar som blandar seg inn,og at for å høyre klart kva som verkeleg blir formidla,så må ein finstille radioen.

Ikkje alle veit dette.Ein ser fleire døme på at mange lever i frykt og bekymring pg.av fantasien deira tek overhånd.
Ein ser det i fjernsynet,og i avisene.Ein spelar på frykta og på bekymringane i samfunnet,for det fangar oppmerksomhet og vedlikeheld denne låge angstfylld stemninga som mange kjenner seg igjen i og blir avhengige av.

Det er ikkje slik andre folk trur det er,ei heller slik ein sjølv trur at det er.
Trua er fantasiens håndtlanger,og mange har måttet bøte med livet for det andre har forestillet seg.
Derfor skal ein akte seg for seg sjølve og alt  ein trur på,og ikkje la fantasien sabotere ein fin dag.


Den verden me lever i er eit fantasi produkt som inspirerar filmskaparar og forfattarar av bøkjer.Kunstnarar og religiøse.Fantasien kan vere så verkeleg at ein kan smake den,kjenne den stryke over huda lik ein varm sommarvind.Fantasien kan ikle seg Guds røst og tale direkte fra bibelens dager.Fantasien kan, med overbevisende kraft,få selv den sterkeste i troen til å vakle og bli usikker.
Derfor skal man akte seg for alle mennesker,og være åpen for at absolutt alt kan skje,ja,også det.
  

stjålne blikk

Ho hadde sin
eigen sjarm
sin eigen
karakter
og stil
men blikket
hennar
var stjåle

det hadde ho
teke frå ein
som hadde
festa det på
henne
i forbi
farten


og rett som
det var 
sende ho
stjålne blikk
på folk
og dyr
i nærleiken


ei gong kasta
ho eit stjåle
blikk på
ein politimann

men
det skulle ho
nok ikkje ha gjort


ho hadde
slike evner

arva etter
si bestemor
som var av
trollslekta
lik hennar
oldemødre

før henne
igjen

når ho kikka
seg i speilet
såg ho långt
tilbake
i tid
på adle
som

hadde sett
det ho såg
med sine
heilt eigne
auge


hennar heilt eigne
blågrønne auge kunne
ho gjøyme
bak ein annans
stjålne blikk
og det var
aldri godt
å vete
kven sine
auge ho
såg med


folk
blei usikkre
når ho kikka
på dei
med hennar
stjålne blikk
men det morra
ho seg med
og lo av
lik ein
barnehage
unge

ho kunne
le slik
at tårene
byrja å
trille
 eller slik
at snømassar
løysna
frå bratte
fjellsider
og rasa
nedover
med fryktinngytande
kraft











 

Kor la eg haude sist ?

Utan haue
våkna han
og fomla
rundt å
lette

under senga
under dyna
i
skuffer
og i  skap

haude
var
blitt

vekke

armar
og bein
verka
som dei
skulle
men utan
haue
blei
det berre
tulle

fortvila
somna han
tilslutt
og der
midt i
ei mare
fann han
haudet att
det låg
å myste
i eit
kratt
med eine
auge ope
og flagra
med
øyrene lik
ein ape
katt

She got the book

She looked like she had seen a ghost,but nothing could be farther from the truth.
She had,in fact,seen a hundred ghosts,and could  feel their lingering presence,watching her and putting the strangest  ideas into her head.Wonderful ideas,beautiful and terrifying too,full of wit and cunning.
The ghosts would now and then remind her  that she was a ghost too, and that the world she lived in was a ghostworld,and that was the big secret,the occult mystery of all mysteries.
It`s  easy to imagine oneself to be alive,all you have to do is follow the people.When many people imagine themselves to be alive,it makes it all the more real.
"Reality",a  popular phrase amongst the so called living,and a very important one,as it sustains and fuels imagination with a concept that claims its own truth and authority.
When listening to ghosts,a nother story is told,of course.Stories that doesnt fit with our bootcamp training.Stories that completely turns upside down,everything one thought to be real,and....."alive".
 Coming from one world and passing into the next, not remembering where one came from,thats what creates this  mystery,this  void,the  subconscious mind,the soul,religions ,fear and death.
Without this loss of memory,such preoccupation would find no ground,no reason.
When the ghost becomes one with the body,reality crumbles and a new picture,a new world
is beheld by eyes of the purest innocence.
She was one with the ghost and there was no death,but life in the afterworld.
She was on a mission.One of silence.For she knew she could not tell anyone of her revelation.
She knew that if she did try to tell anyone,they would become afraid,and that was not
her mission to put more fear into nervous people.
So she let silence work its miracle,upon anyone who wanted her to exploit her secret.
For it was in that silence that the ghost could perform the Great work.
The ghosts amused themselves by entertaining her nonbelieving friends with all kinds of spooks.
The ghosts, not in a hurry to be discovered,entertains themselves  by peoples blind ignorance,and the
ghosts would go to great lengths to make people loose their blown up egos,their creditcards and other unhealthy affairs.
Having ghosts for friends,is of great benefit,when it comes to spiritual affairs,she learned.as time grew into a thornbush with beautiful sweet scented purple flowers that would  open only  at sunset and would fall off the  following day.
There where times when people wanted her dead for knowing what she knew,people who where afraid of her knowledge.So her ghostly friends would haunt anyone who approached her with evil intention,and make them "very bussy" for extended periods of time.
They say that people who know certain things,need certain protection from certain people,because having knowledge of hidden and certain  holy  things,make one ahead of others.It gives certain advantages,a certain glow,and abilities that should not be possible for an ordinary working man or woman.
Our little  knowledge of the world,keeps us thight in a controlled space.
But one glimpse of a higher world,a higher truth,one glimpse,one taste of eternity,is enough
to tear down the walls of  our little timely  world,and ruining our limited conception of  reality.
Time protects us from eternity by doing whatever  it can to occupy our attention,like the cleverest trickster.
One moment out of time is enough to inspire a life of wonders and of phenomena.
But also of madness,utter grief,dark sorrow and despair.Pain, excruciating,and blood also.
Though perhaps not in buckets.Perhaps not in trays.
One moment out of the ordinary is enough to make one question  established truths,and therein challenging the status quo of the collective consciousness,aka the living fluid mass,aka reality.

figure of speech

he was a figure
of speech
and figured
out a way
to mold
artistic
characters
from
clay

one
was a
multicoloured
dragon
with dogs
legs and
a cats
face
that glowed
once
in the dark

(maybe twice)

another
was a soldier
of fortune
who looked
like all the accidents
of the world
had crashed
right
on top of
his head

his favorite
of course
being a walking
talking
oxen-frog
that could speak
backwards
if necessary
and sometimes
it was

writing -a figure of speech.

writing can be likened
to venturing into an
ancient cave
full of  cobweb
and  hidden treasures
waiting to be discovered
underneath layers
of time

once while
writing a poem
i came upon
a small engraven
toomb with a window
too dusty
to look
through
but upon
unsealing
the
door
i awoke
whoever it was
that rested
within

and the
lights went
out
and on
and back out
flickering
once more
before they
finally
went all
black

-


in the beginning
there where
only
blackness
at first
an empty
starless
void
and
not a sound
could be
heard

then someone
out of nowhere
sneezed
 and so this
universe
was created

a universe of
living breathing
bacteria and
sneezing
organisms
so beautiful
and yet so terrible
only a genius
could invent


attiti
att
atta
attch
O
O
o
o
o

!