Piece of Poetry - You still roam these floors

You still roam the floors

Of my past and memories

And I feel like a haunted house

-

But if an exorcist were to make you go away

I’d beg you to stay

I'd lock myself up

And not let you leave

I’ll become a prisoner of the past

In my own head

I do miss you that bad

(November 2010)

Bound in Motion Furor

What if this were Rome burning tonight
and we were still sticking to past mistakes
running past the same images in our minds
spinning over and over again

Would we keep our mouths shut
eyes taped, arms bound
forever doomed to the same story
told at night, but still - a convenient truth
for we are left to tell

Only - we know, it's all but a lie
and the people are bound in motion pictures
or concentrated in camps
the animals were taking over

Corpses washing down the river
the ground soaked in black and green blood
breathing a sole grievance
and everywhere the towers are growing into the sky
tongues twist as people divide

We follow the footsteps to a new home
and a bright future ahead
where distraction will keep us from
aiming clearsighted and thus is to be eliminated
outdated, the inferior falling to our furor
childish naïveté mating mature brute
this house is burning
and the dancefloor explodes in light

(written somewhat around 2008/09, inspired by visited Rwandan sites)

Short Poem

Original Temptation was delivered from Evil through the Eyes of Madness.
I stood remote and watched them pray for Egg-shaped Lungs of Salt.
And then two Thirds flew by an ease of mild-tempered Summer Swing
– APOKALYPSE!
But the kids went to rock on…
To my personal Hall of Fame,
climbing Steam to lay Claim to their Frame of Stains,
Stairway down Subconsiousness, Pawn of Maliciousness
bear me Witness - oh this Prowess! - I dare you Fucker Druglord!
I’ll stitch you Needles and Poison down your Vein!
None will trace thy Reign, Fucker,
and nothing is to soothe the Pain!

Letter to the Ancestors

letter to the ancestors

take us back to the origins of time

take us back to where it all started from

and tell your story to the man

tell it to the man who killed you

who killed you

in the first and every place

the man who lost his mind

and won´t remember

this is what it has all gone down to

you won´t be able to make a difference

you neither

for you are lost

and you can´t help yourself

from dying in the end

because once he has heard your story

the man can´t help but cry

and swear none like this will

ever happen again

but then it did happen again;

and he will kill you there

in your beds sleeping

in the fields hunting

in the trees running from him

and it went on like this for a thousand

times for every story that was told

and it didn´t make a difference in the end

or change the world

but every story was a difference in its own right

and changed a world,

if at least a bit

but once it was lost,

it would be never heard again

(Taipei, 15.07.07)

Untitled

She said ‘you never leave friendships
Just like you never abandon homes
They keep living and breathing heavily as the lungs continue grow ever more congested in the back of your mind
Whether you like it or not’

But nobody was listening to her, so she went back to her gin
They were scanning the place waiting for our friend to arrive so the night could really begin
But he was taking his sweet time of course
And it was getting late, you could tell
The lonely young man who went mad after losing his family in a motorway car crash was now way past drunk and fell
Swinging his meandering body into our table as everybody made a dive for their drinks
Then he tried to apologize but his brain was so slow that he could hardly speak

Eventually our man arrived obviously already wired and accompanied by a troupe of other likeminded souls
He came over and slipped our doses into our hands without bothering to wait for the glass-collector to go
And he looked at us and we looked at him and he looked away and that was all
And then our mutual friend made his excuses and bundled himself off to the bogs
His dark eyelids only telling half the story of what he had taken and what was still to fall
He had his own issues that I’m sure we weren’t helping funding him as we were
But he’s a big boy now
Or at least that’s how we justified it, and it’s not like anyone had a cure

The next morning was Sunday and I was sat in a friend’s front room after both spending the whole night awake and smoking and drinking too much and he looked as pale as a ghost
And when I saw him eating an apple and asked him why
As he always claimed to hate them he said ‘well I’m trying to look after my health aren’t I?’
He was becoming paranoid after letting all and sundry into his place and he kept telling people in a raised voice to be quiet
And I left him to it

Someone turned on the TV saying ‘I always watch T4 on Sundays, it’s like my religion’
And she was right
It was the day of rest and religion after all
And with our hangovers and come downs we were more inclined to watch television than go to church

And then someone came in and went around giving everybody a small white and black fridge magnet word each saying ‘I found them at the bus stop and missed my bus trying to pick them all up’ and he gave me one saying ‘innocent’
But I knew I wasn’t innocent
I just remembered to keep certain things hidden and quiet
And that if you’re guilty its best to just keep silent
So I did

But my friend still kept trying to maintain control over his own house
And it ended up that he chucked a bunch of rowdy people out
And nobody blamed him for being on edge or for taking care of his place
It was his decision and they respected that and they just got out of his face
So we all decided to leave and go to the goals and play football for the day
But when we got there only a handful actually had the energy to play
A few just sat and stared
And a few carried on drinking
As if they didn’t have homes to go to
As if something was missing

But when it started to rain
And two guys got into an uneven and unwanted fight and the loser started moaning about the rain
We decided to pack it in for the day
And I went home and packed my things and threw the word ‘innocent’ into the bin
And didn’t give it another thought
I knew I’d been away too long
And I knew I was out of the loop
Because I didn’t really know the people and the houses like I thought I used to
As some things in your head differently to how they really do

And I sat in the kitchen and had a cup of coffee
With the friend who gave me the lift home
It was cold and late in the morning
And soon I had to go, or else I’d miss my ride
And he told me just as he was about to leave ‘it’s like you either get locked into a life or locked out of a life’
And for some reason he looked very pleased

(written by a friend)

My Life, Dancing in the Streetlight Sound (A Trilogy)

My Life, Dancing in the Streetlight Sound (Upon a Loved One)

Fact 1: The Sound of Light

A shadow is covering that page in the book of history

Not the important one that wouldn´t mention

The painful and lovesome

But the record of our thirst for the life

We´ve been dreaming of

In bloom and agony of this our youth -

A ghost now is dwelling in places

We used to wander

And it feels like we met in a dream

A dream of better beauty and more anxious love

A life is where you are not

You did not tell me where you were heading for

Nor that you would go at all

So I be-ordered my mind on papered wings,

But is there a way I can find to nowhere?

My senses seem cramped around a picture

Of you, in the sunny mood of a peevish day

No, I won´t ever get to you again

Neither do I realise the impact of loss

My mourning feels so corrupted

That it makes me want to disappear

From the surface of the moon, from the surface

Of my superficial concerns, they don´t stand the brightness of day

I´m ashamed

I´m ashamed, I can´t tell black from white

Fact 2: Compromised Dancing

Can I see your smiling face shining with the stars

When I look up for them, fading lights?

So much a sign of life for us, yet dead for long when they

Come to being, by means, we bring them forth in our very hearts reception

Energies meander, and shape is eventually temporary

At least not reliable

Are you watching our daily clumsiness from above?

Do you accompany this our run-and-hide, hide-and-seek?

I wish to imagine you smiling, as that is what your heart was like

Whenever a single soul was reliant on comfort

Perhaps you got a little moved, moved on us, moved

On the moment we were sacrificing in a memory for you

Or maybe that was our excuse for mourning ourselves

But you know that there are way more important things to tell

Since you left us

Because we have to live on

And

You cannot help us in that anymore

It is our own sole thing to find

Ourselves alone

Fact 3: Life is a Wall, Love is the Bricks

Laughter, Invisibly to Grief It Sticks

You left a mark on the lonesome road we travel

A sign for us to find

This memory, some fading images

Your voice, grown unfamiliar over the years

It recalls all the fear and compassion

Some stubborn mistakes that are meant to pass

And everything that no one will ever be able to put in words

No one except the two of us

But words won´t find us ease

You left us here, a life well behind

And an idea in our trembling hearts

That it is our life

And our own sole thing to find

Can you see now?

(final version: 9/May/2005; written in February)

My Life, Dancing. (Part 2 - In Loving Memory, Yours)

My Life, Dancing Part 2:

In Loving Memory, Yours…

You know, I will always remember the first time we were talking to

each other while I was working in the kitchen. And every time

I remember, it bursts my heart. I don´t want to feel this sudden

ache, and yet I cannot live without it.

I know that I will see you again.

I know that I will carry you with me for the rest of my lifetime.

As an image, maybe. Fading. Pieces of memory that I will wonder

once where they came from, why they made me feel so hard that it seemed there was

no space left for any other emotion.

I could not focus, I could not read, not study. I guess I am

thinking too much. I cannot help it.

It seems so real and unreal at the same time. Is this

My life?

I know that I will see you again. I saved some corner of my

Heart, and I planted a flower there, and I watched it grow and get

Old and finally die. I watched it die with my heart one day, in a

Picture of you. Once I wondered where I had taken it from, and

Then I remembered how it used to be like when I was living in

Kalmar nation while I was supposed to live in Uppsala. By that

Time I remembered the days I had spent waiting for you, watching

You before my inner eye. The aches I had suffered, the pleasures

I had met. I felt your eyes on me, they were talking to me, like

They wanted to tell things I would never hear. I saw you smile,

Like you used to, and I heard you breathing. I saw your hair

Moving around your neck like it was living.

Then my heart took a leap, and stopped from beating.

I will write a song about you, I will never see that clear again.

Two days ago I was told that you died in a car accident,

On the way to that vacation you always had wanted to spend

In a country quite far from here.

I would like to think you were happy then.

I never saw you again.

(November 2004)

My Life, Dancing. (Part 3 - The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things)

My Life, Dancing Part 3:

The Heart is Deceitful Above all Things

handsome mankind who begun insulting me:

wonderful rapture lay down near the soft wing of an angel

all these emotions outshine my faint heart

as this breast in bloom cries a chorus of pain

wind harped the night there I saw her in my day sleep

and even the most ugly dog must be some symphony of heaven…

They told me that you passed away

You passed away, and I do hardly know you

Though we would always be called friends

You died, only a few days ago

And I didn´t talk to you for ages

And most likely I will never do that again

If I only had some witty imagination

To give your old face some familiar shape

That would actually well relieve my grievance

Thus my grievance is only shame

And pity for the plain fate that I know

I am gonna endure

Not mourning for a loss that I don´t really feel

Death only makes me reflect on my own misery

I guess, that is what most of us is giving the creeps

And then it hits me like a stroke

You and me, we are in deed the same!

Where could you ever be, if not inside of me?!

Living in worlds my memory orchestrated

Living in words, in walls my feeling painted

Shared memory, never will I stand alone

Now that I know where to find you

In here you´ll be existing as if you

Never had been anywhere else

My friend, I am you, and you are here

And that is what matters most now

Is how well you walk through the mirror

Is: You are to save my day

Epilogue:

handsome mankind who begun insulting me:

wonderful rapture lay down near the soft wing of an angel

all these emotions outshine my faint heart

as this breast in bloom cries a chorus of pain

wind harped the night there I saw her in my day sleep

and even the most ugly dog must be some symphony of heaven…

Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to?

You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man

They alotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping.

As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day,

Dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water,

Cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace,

For this too is the lot of man.

(October 24, 2004 )

october, 5th - murdered a saint

we found you lying

on dead end street

with your hands all

tied around your neck

and your feet

wearing nailgloss

you were looking like a

murdered saint

flickering traffic lights

don´t mean much to you

no more

they tell us the story

of a once dark night

with your shirt tugged off

in the freeze of a

barbarian cold night

you were looking like

a murdered saint

they gave you 21 years

to live

and 2 days to die

so what could you

possibly do

but prepare your death

all for a living

in the world

according to us

there is no unjustified death

for each life has its purpose

and meaning

they gave you 21 years

and about me -

i don´t wonder

no more

whether it be 22

or 22 more

poetry#5

My feet are still traversing these streets

(Passing the same street again)

What would it matter –

I´d show regret, and said:

I never wanted anything of this to happen

Said that and would actually believe the words

Or believe I knew what I wanted to say

But what do you care words?

So I go on as if it were yesterday

Dangling in the streetlights

Dancing on my conscience´ corpses

Dices only roll me bad luck

As Russian Roulette would

If I ever dared to quite try that

I need something more

I look for insights

Who´ll ever be waiting there for me

If not even you

What is there I can rely on

If I passed that flask

So I walk on

And stay here or there for a while

To not forget that it is solitude that strays first

I´ll walk those precepts for years

Until they all get the same to me

I would walk them with you, no doubt

If you only would still know me by then

I can´t be sure of that, though I been sure to know you

I won´t be sure of anything anymore

Well, I can´t depend on you

And I know all of that

But I know many things that I know

Like empty phrases do

They don´t appear real to me

And you gave me that feeling

The feeling I miss since then

A feeling real

So I will walk this street

Carrying you on my heart

You´re weighing hard on my hand and shoulder

I will stop from time to time, for a sigh

And then I will stand right here, see that river?

And wait for you until the morning dawns

(October 2005)

poetry#4

Dining with leper

And violence is fears fierce sister

Powerlessness, silencing brother speech

Clarifies conditions of todays

Empire, dictatorship of

The educated, the complacent and

Correct the traces left by some

Error inherent as the key to the

System

And me, I am dining with narcoleptics

And I am feeling the sickness as if

I was growing mad too

But I was talking to Jehovah

And last night I received a phone call

from President Jefferson

Granting me full amnesty

Again, I awake in that desolate place

My eye, caressing this land in bloom

All but a figment of my mind, they say

My dreams are getting armed

And all of those attempting to part

Me from this – they shall taste the blade of the sword

Their dreams have passed away

But never will they take mine

I´d rather be mad

And outshine

An empire inside my head

I don´t belong here

Why do they keep me still?

I am meant to be free

I won´t depend on anyone but myself!

-

Then I scratch some stain on my soul

I am still sweating, and I wonder where I am

It feels like I just awoke from some sort of sleep

Hazy days, hazy nights

There is no clearance here

My life, it feels so empty

Some kind of madness to call it life, actually -

Where did they go?

And why did they take that medicine with them?

I want those petty dreams back!

Again, I awake in deserted places…

(Oktober 2005)

poetry#3

Past the Falls (So Much for a Winner)

/How Much I Envy You for Dreaming

“So”… they say

“So”… they say, and when it comes to you

Won´t you ever disturb me again?

Way past malicious fallacies

And make-believe we were that humble,

Or strong, if that was more appealing

If that was what you wanted

Somehow pathetic

We take the fall and don´t wonder

Anymore for what comes next

Is what we´ve had before

Is what we´ve already had

Ready to bust us in

Bust us out

We are way past anger and meaning

Still, that was a sense of living

Some glimpse, at least

And it felt much better

When it was like that, like a fact, intact

And there was no question or surrender

As if it would have ever been this way

Light that cigarette

As you reason, and imagine

Yourself a hero this way

Except for grace, everything still keeps on going

Not entirely in order, perhaps

But who would ask for that?

Who should give a damn?

So you declare

War on that last cigarette

And give it another try

Hold your breath, for a second only

In times, you wish things were not the way

They are, or better, in one way or another

Yet they always kind of trick you on that matter

Get the looks closer on the glass of gin ahead

Stop the spin of thinking (inside your head)

Get out on top, there´s so much for a winner

Ask that worn out girl next to you on the counter

Ask to save her for a last dance

(24.02.06)