Ho rulla nedover tunet
lik eit garn nøste
og drog med seg
båe
blomar å gras
då ferden
endeleg
stoppa
ved eit
stille tjern
byrja
vinden å blesa
og snart
var det
krusningar
på det
vesle tjernet
i ku byrja
rauta frå heia
og snart
vart dei to
ei linerle
landa på
ryggen hennar
og tuppa
der
ei stond
ei fluge
flaug inn i linsa
og snart
vart bildet
fyllt av kravlande
bein
og vinger
----vi beklager teknisk feil-------
torsdag 25. mai 2017
onsdag 24. mai 2017
Er det deg ?
Eg høyre kviskring
er det du
som kviskrar ?
eg ser røyrsle
mellom trea
er det du
som røyrer deg ?
kvifor driv
du å
lurar på
meg
å kviskrar ?
snakk høgt
og tydeleg
om du
vil seie
meg noko
kom ut
kom fram !
er det du
som kviskrar ?
eg ser røyrsle
mellom trea
er det du
som røyrer deg ?
kvifor driv
du å
lurar på
meg
å kviskrar ?
snakk høgt
og tydeleg
om du
vil seie
meg noko
kom ut
kom fram !
My room
eg sølte kaffi på blondeduken
og velta kakefatet
over ende
eg snubla i dørkarmen
og gløymde pin koden
til bank kortet
så det blei
slukt
glei på ein plastpose
og klemde fingen
i ei skuffe
lo på feil plass
og på feil stad
og fekk¨
naboen ild sint
nokre dagar
ligg eg berre
der og ber
andre dagar
er eg ute
å gjer meg
stor å svær
og velta kakefatet
over ende
eg snubla i dørkarmen
og gløymde pin koden
til bank kortet
så det blei
slukt
glei på ein plastpose
og klemde fingen
i ei skuffe
lo på feil plass
og på feil stad
og fekk¨
naboen ild sint
nokre dagar
ligg eg berre
der og ber
andre dagar
er eg ute
å gjer meg
stor å svær
WHATS LEFT
WHAT REMAINED
WAS THE WORDS HE WROTE
WAS THE WORDS HE WROTE
WHILE HE HIMSELF MOVED A HEAD
AN ENORMOUS HEAD
AND
AND
HE MOVED IT
BY
BY
CONTINUALLY ROLLING IT
DAY BY DAY
THROUGH FORESTS
AND SAND
THOSE WHO SAW
HIM ROLLING AHEAD
WAS LEFT IN AWE
WITH DROPPED
JAWS
AND SAND
THOSE WHO SAW
HIM ROLLING AHEAD
WAS LEFT IN AWE
WITH DROPPED
JAWS
WHAT REMAINED AFTER HIM
WHERE THE WORDS HE WROTE
AND THEY SETTLED IN THIS LITTLE
POEM
POEM
MARRIED AND HAD MANY
CHILDREN
THAT LATER GOT
THEIR OWN AND
SOON CAME THE
BOOK
AND
MANY BOOKS
CAME AFTER THAT
FIRST ONE
BUT ALL
RESEMBLING
THE FIRST
BOOK
AT FIRST
GLANCE
THAT LATER GOT
THEIR OWN AND
SOON CAME THE
BOOK
AND
MANY BOOKS
CAME AFTER THAT
FIRST ONE
BUT ALL
RESEMBLING
THE FIRST
BOOK
AT FIRST
GLANCE
torsdag 19. januar 2017
Kristallkuleauge
In my shiny crystal ball, i see an old wizard looking into His shiny crystal ball,
where therein Another smaller wizard i see , hunked over His crystal ball, gazing into it
entranced ,by the reflection of himselflooking at himself, in smaller and smaller images.
This eggshaped window to another world inside this world,wherein miniature replicas are living their lives,doing what they do in their own precious time.
Time Is always the same,but here it runs sloowly,and everynow and then it speeds up a bit before it slows Down again,as if switched,somewhere in the unseen machine room of reality.
Sometimes are really all the time,if it wasn`t for my preoccupation With the past and the future,and where to put the socks and where to put the butter.Order makes reality a sane Place for the mind,but too much of it,and i and you,we both loose the finer Points of existence.Together with many.
The Words did not flow from his mouth,and his limbs did not move as if by phantoms
but when you stare long enough into the fire,you see what moves behind curtains of time.
It was not this beautiful little garden,overgrown With beautiful flowering weeds,wherein elves mocked each other over trivial affairs,and the buzzing of bees in the air,but there was an old Hollow trunk of tree that rested its ancient body on the Earth.Therein a Young fox would sleep when the rain poured Down,but now it was out chasing foods in the sun.
It was nothing like a fairytale,but there was the occasional hobbit doing marvelous tricks of wich one may stumble upon in said tales.
And then there was a juggler With Words,but he vanished in one of his many tales,and since then,only faint cries have been heard from afar.They who say and those who know, point to a desolate island in the west.A Place upon where no man may find pleasure,but the one who enjoys talking to himself and turtles perhaps.Who knows.The old soothsayers who dwell in the grave of the Earth,perhaps.
They would tell you all you wanted to know.But would their answers really please you ?
Always question Your motives and intentions in a Chamber of mindfulness.
But do Rest now.You read too much, too fast. !
Enjoy a walk.Have a cup of tea.See yourselves reflected on the surface, then drink.
Be not so so and so.
Instead,feel the rythm of the universe deep within Your soul and let it move you to those forbidden Places of the heart.
let the rythm of the universe steal Your dearest Secrets,then enjoy the laughter of the old Gods and Goddesses,unto whom all mortals are unveiled.
You assume too much too fast.Let the mysterie linger within you as months fly by.
Time is precious,like soil to the seed,and to the roots of trees.
Restlessness is the first sign of weakness and of strength.
Energy expresses itself in Your body and is communicated throughout the realms of this and that.
The Words that was supposed to flow from Your hands prophetic,instead came in Waves on a silent Ocean.The life that was supposed to be what you wished for,instead came in Seasons and in its own good time,like an entity of its own,with its own special needs and schemes.
Imagination doesnt inform you when its doing tricks With Your mind.
It has the freedom to change Your mind by using special effects collected from Your very own Collection.Enhancing off course,every single phenomena that arises within and without.
Be what you are and let being be Your art.Be the artist of yourself ,make art that pleases and disturbs the establishment.Choose not side With the siders,instead be like the tree carrying many branches.
Be not so and so
Instead be aware of the tendency to drift in many directions and the tendency to choose side With the siders on their weatherworn basecamps high up on the Mountains of Madness.
Behold the world through Your own very eyes,and let no man replace his eye With thine own.!
This is a test and this is not a test,but an idea so powerful that the mind feels challenged,tested :
Those who fail will know every detail of their mistakes,but too late.
Those who succeed will fail later,and too late know of their mistakes.
Instead let life carry you on its Wind like the sweet bird and see where it may bring you.
It was never what i expected until i started expecting the unexpected.
thats when the doors creaked,the spider hurried into hiding,and the old clock on the wall
stopped ticking at approximately 3:33 pm.
thats when it started.and thats when it ended.thats when i perceived time an old giant,watching us all,from every single watch that men and women adorne themselves with throughout the vast continents of the earth.
The eye of time,The true divinity and God of human species,summoning forth the very beginnings and endings in all of creation.
Arrividechi
*
where therein Another smaller wizard i see , hunked over His crystal ball, gazing into it
entranced ,by the reflection of himselflooking at himself, in smaller and smaller images.
This eggshaped window to another world inside this world,wherein miniature replicas are living their lives,doing what they do in their own precious time.
Time Is always the same,but here it runs sloowly,and everynow and then it speeds up a bit before it slows Down again,as if switched,somewhere in the unseen machine room of reality.
Sometimes are really all the time,if it wasn`t for my preoccupation With the past and the future,and where to put the socks and where to put the butter.Order makes reality a sane Place for the mind,but too much of it,and i and you,we both loose the finer Points of existence.Together with many.
The Words did not flow from his mouth,and his limbs did not move as if by phantoms
but when you stare long enough into the fire,you see what moves behind curtains of time.
It was not this beautiful little garden,overgrown With beautiful flowering weeds,wherein elves mocked each other over trivial affairs,and the buzzing of bees in the air,but there was an old Hollow trunk of tree that rested its ancient body on the Earth.Therein a Young fox would sleep when the rain poured Down,but now it was out chasing foods in the sun.
It was nothing like a fairytale,but there was the occasional hobbit doing marvelous tricks of wich one may stumble upon in said tales.
And then there was a juggler With Words,but he vanished in one of his many tales,and since then,only faint cries have been heard from afar.They who say and those who know, point to a desolate island in the west.A Place upon where no man may find pleasure,but the one who enjoys talking to himself and turtles perhaps.Who knows.The old soothsayers who dwell in the grave of the Earth,perhaps.
They would tell you all you wanted to know.But would their answers really please you ?
Always question Your motives and intentions in a Chamber of mindfulness.
But do Rest now.You read too much, too fast. !
Enjoy a walk.Have a cup of tea.See yourselves reflected on the surface, then drink.
Be not so so and so.
Instead,feel the rythm of the universe deep within Your soul and let it move you to those forbidden Places of the heart.
let the rythm of the universe steal Your dearest Secrets,then enjoy the laughter of the old Gods and Goddesses,unto whom all mortals are unveiled.
You assume too much too fast.Let the mysterie linger within you as months fly by.
Time is precious,like soil to the seed,and to the roots of trees.
Restlessness is the first sign of weakness and of strength.
Energy expresses itself in Your body and is communicated throughout the realms of this and that.
The Words that was supposed to flow from Your hands prophetic,instead came in Waves on a silent Ocean.The life that was supposed to be what you wished for,instead came in Seasons and in its own good time,like an entity of its own,with its own special needs and schemes.
Imagination doesnt inform you when its doing tricks With Your mind.
It has the freedom to change Your mind by using special effects collected from Your very own Collection.Enhancing off course,every single phenomena that arises within and without.
Be what you are and let being be Your art.Be the artist of yourself ,make art that pleases and disturbs the establishment.Choose not side With the siders,instead be like the tree carrying many branches.
Be not so and so
Instead be aware of the tendency to drift in many directions and the tendency to choose side With the siders on their weatherworn basecamps high up on the Mountains of Madness.
Behold the world through Your own very eyes,and let no man replace his eye With thine own.!
This is a test and this is not a test,but an idea so powerful that the mind feels challenged,tested :
Those who fail will know every detail of their mistakes,but too late.
Those who succeed will fail later,and too late know of their mistakes.
Instead let life carry you on its Wind like the sweet bird and see where it may bring you.
It was never what i expected until i started expecting the unexpected.
thats when the doors creaked,the spider hurried into hiding,and the old clock on the wall
stopped ticking at approximately 3:33 pm.
thats when it started.and thats when it ended.thats when i perceived time an old giant,watching us all,from every single watch that men and women adorne themselves with throughout the vast continents of the earth.
The eye of time,The true divinity and God of human species,summoning forth the very beginnings and endings in all of creation.
Arrividechi
*
lørdag 7. januar 2017
torsdag 29. desember 2016
Kor mykje/how møtch
Det er ikkje alt som er like morosamt.Enkelte ting er berre halvparten så morosamt,eller berre såvidt.
Men nokre gonger er ein vits like morosam som den neste,eller kanhende også meir.
Det er ikkje alt som er like trist heller.Nokre ting kan være heilt forferdeleg,mens andre ting igjen ikkje får fram tårene,men berre eit sukk eller to.
Alt kan målast og alt kan veiast.Ein har timar dagar veker og år på å finne ut av kor mykje eller kor lite som skal til,og kor longt det kan strekkjast før det heile ryk med eit smell.
Dansar eg,er rommet i bevegelse,føtene har nok med golvet,og musikken spelar av seg sjølve.
Augnene mine.Desse speila i toppen,med utsikt over nasen,og havet neanfor.
Kulene som trillar rundt i sine eigne basseng av saltvatn.Augneballane eg gnikkar å gnir i spegelen.
Eg stirrar framfor meg med mitt augekamera og filmar den verda eg lever i.
Orda eg les,vert tekne opp på bånd,og samla i store boksar eg har på eige lager i min underbevisste verden som er eit einaste stort bibliotek, med ei lita krypdør heilt bakarst, som leiar inn i eit endå større bibliotek med glasstak,slik at ein kan sjå stjernene,sola,skyene som seglar over himmelen,og ein og anna båt.
Nei vær glad at alt ikkje er like morosamt,eller like trist.Det hadde vore veldig kjedelig i lengda,og gitt ein følelsen av å ha møtt seg sjølve i døra eller i veggen. Om ein møter seg sjølve i døra,bør ein helse og ikkje berre late som ingenting.
Det er ikkje kva dag ein møter seg sjølve i døra,men når det hender skal ein akte seg og ikkje ferdast framåt i svime.
Observer ditt vesen,når du står der framføre deg sjølve,og test med ein variasjon av øvelsar.Veive eine armen,hev eine augnebrynet,og vri hovudet fyrst til den eine sia,og så til den andre.
Sjå om din dobbel gjer det same,for om så er,kan du berre slappe av.
Verre vil eg sei det vert,om din dobbel ikkje greier å fylgje deg,og visar teikn som ikkje stemmer overeins med dei du helst vil sjå.
Då har du med noko å gjere,som eg ikkje ennå vågar å nemne med ord.Du bør vurdere å ringje presten.Kan hende ein dokter som har sterke nervemedisinar.
(berre tullar)
Den kvelden du møter deg sjølve i døra,eller kan hende dagen,skal du ikkje være redd,men glad for at det finst andre som er så like deg,og frydast ved dette.Ikkje uroas,eller flykte frå hendinga,lik ein redd fugle unge,eller kan hende også eit ekorn.
Der ute finst din dobbeltgjengar,og ventar på dagen då du og han skal møtast i døra,og verta eins att.
Eg kan love deg ein opplevelse utanfor det du til no har opplevd.Eit lite mirakel i eit miniatyr univers og tilbake att same veg.
Men nokre gonger er ein vits like morosam som den neste,eller kanhende også meir.
Det er ikkje alt som er like trist heller.Nokre ting kan være heilt forferdeleg,mens andre ting igjen ikkje får fram tårene,men berre eit sukk eller to.
Alt kan målast og alt kan veiast.Ein har timar dagar veker og år på å finne ut av kor mykje eller kor lite som skal til,og kor longt det kan strekkjast før det heile ryk med eit smell.
Dansar eg,er rommet i bevegelse,føtene har nok med golvet,og musikken spelar av seg sjølve.
Augnene mine.Desse speila i toppen,med utsikt over nasen,og havet neanfor.
Kulene som trillar rundt i sine eigne basseng av saltvatn.Augneballane eg gnikkar å gnir i spegelen.
Eg stirrar framfor meg med mitt augekamera og filmar den verda eg lever i.
Orda eg les,vert tekne opp på bånd,og samla i store boksar eg har på eige lager i min underbevisste verden som er eit einaste stort bibliotek, med ei lita krypdør heilt bakarst, som leiar inn i eit endå større bibliotek med glasstak,slik at ein kan sjå stjernene,sola,skyene som seglar over himmelen,og ein og anna båt.
Nei vær glad at alt ikkje er like morosamt,eller like trist.Det hadde vore veldig kjedelig i lengda,og gitt ein følelsen av å ha møtt seg sjølve i døra eller i veggen. Om ein møter seg sjølve i døra,bør ein helse og ikkje berre late som ingenting.
Det er ikkje kva dag ein møter seg sjølve i døra,men når det hender skal ein akte seg og ikkje ferdast framåt i svime.
Observer ditt vesen,når du står der framføre deg sjølve,og test med ein variasjon av øvelsar.Veive eine armen,hev eine augnebrynet,og vri hovudet fyrst til den eine sia,og så til den andre.
Sjå om din dobbel gjer det same,for om så er,kan du berre slappe av.
Verre vil eg sei det vert,om din dobbel ikkje greier å fylgje deg,og visar teikn som ikkje stemmer overeins med dei du helst vil sjå.
Då har du med noko å gjere,som eg ikkje ennå vågar å nemne med ord.Du bør vurdere å ringje presten.Kan hende ein dokter som har sterke nervemedisinar.
(berre tullar)
Den kvelden du møter deg sjølve i døra,eller kan hende dagen,skal du ikkje være redd,men glad for at det finst andre som er så like deg,og frydast ved dette.Ikkje uroas,eller flykte frå hendinga,lik ein redd fugle unge,eller kan hende også eit ekorn.
Der ute finst din dobbeltgjengar,og ventar på dagen då du og han skal møtast i døra,og verta eins att.
Eg kan love deg ein opplevelse utanfor det du til no har opplevd.Eit lite mirakel i eit miniatyr univers og tilbake att same veg.
Abonner på:
Innlegg (Atom)