Category Archives: BOOKS

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TRU KNOW TIME

by

With crowding around the chopping-block Midgard is slaughtered.

 

The Folk are cut down, far deep in their blood filthied,

deprived of all of their Rights, Honour, Truth and Life.

 

Our foes’ ridiculous lies sit stuck in layers of filth

and wish to pretend that resistance is futile; sat in useless,

spreading dumbness about that countries worth are set in guilt

all while self-defense is hollowed-eyed heckled open and causeless

 

Never trust any opinions to be valid in the War of all Wars.

 

It is burning here everywhere,

time to close the larders

as now the hardest age

stand us already in the doorway

 

Will grows in the towns which here have understood Realities.

 

Aim now our foe towards the grave and write down boundary-lines.

 

TRU come with the uplifting strength and might

and lacks a counterpart ― Raising now the long awaited:

 

MIDGARD, FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS UNIMAGINABLE PARASITED AND USED

THROUGH OUR FOES FILTHY WORK WILL ARISE NOW! ―

TO BE US ALL FINALLY CLEANSED

 

UNITY.

 

TRU KNOW TIME.

 

ODIN OWNS US ALL.

 

ALL VALUE IS IN OUR LIVES.

 

VIET HAS THE RIGHTS FIRST AND FINAL.

 

THE PEOPLE OWN THEIR MIGHT IN THEIR COUNTRIES.

 

THE TRUTH IS UNDOUBTEDLY ALL FUTURE AND LAW.

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LIFEOWNED!

by

But you, come here and right me to gladly become your wrongs.

Taking swings with swords aimed at your neck.

Slaying now your words without hold.

 

But you, with your head off you will shut it by yourself later on?

 

Killing all the insane’s dreams.

 

Killing doesn’t trouble me mentionable,

worse would be if this wasn’t done, with One,

for in the unknowing nothing is learnt

except for a piece of meat that will die.

 

Fully fooled will get killed

with the aged and worn inscription:

 

KNOW WHAT YOU BELIEVE

 

But see! This went uncurtailed home to nil experience.

 

Content with digging up justice for the unjust bastards

and want a grudge in being worst animal for pity.

 

(In a contemporaneously; hear the stinking retards

scream lies about their own attraction and full dignity.)

 

Have here emptyhanded freed the cultivated,

have in haste dug up violated non-years as they sow:

 

BELIEVE WHAT YOU KNOW.

 

But, that which is unwanted drags down that which is wanted:

scum rave so usefully and pigheadedly,

letting vexed be and very quickly search for more.

Lying unconscious and conscious.

 

 

 

Striking at life with a weak: “Possibly”,

to always use as an approvable excuse to throw:

 

KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW.

 

 

You,

who tear up easier by your executioner’s songs

than your own imposed and legitimated sorrows, listen:

We,

we do know that our world is decayed and everywhere raped

with control: Shaping defect normality’s, guilt unpaid.

You, it was done all too easily, that now must be said…

 

Let me now with sympathy mention something Obvious:

Refuse waste solace on what is hopeless.

 

Initiate immediately to work for The Choice and now;

 

KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.

 

NEW TIME IS HERE.

 lifeowned

 

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TO ADJACENT MEMORY

by

The most obvious for the wolf will stun the sheep.

 

Watching a killed winter sprout frozen in crap

thus recognizing the directly born down to be grave embraced

 

The poor young woods, now be they thick or thinly grown,

in a dingbat condition turning to their defiance

wherein withering itself takes all time; their crown…

 

Vulnerable,

so enigmatically agreeing with hardest experiences,

grown upon a boulder with the roots visible all around

of false conclusions; doubt, aversion, sorrow, weakness and miseries,

therein words mostly can offer up some old half measures for pity,

barely just enough to flatter with;

weak in Reality

 

These fully daydreamed danced on a night old ice ―

grossly favoured products so freed from virtue,

hold freedom in hope

for pitiful saving after evil deeds,

for youth’s dumbness wastes youths fire away

 

Real friends! Wounds come to be before suffering

and is rarely covered by the fact that done is done

where it is fought after to eat the thistles

and being most qualming thrall-food rolled in dirt;

there death will never come too soon

 to-adjacent-memory

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KLAR MED DÖDEN I LIVET

by

 

(En omärklig skymt under lövvalvet: Gryningsimman rinner på stenarna.)

 

 

Skrider undanskymd genom (hithörande nategräs)

 

Kliver över en regnbäck (innanför ett mjukt dimregn)

 

Läser i regndroppar på nyponblom; (min egendom)

 

 

 

Är klar. Klarare än källvattens megin

 

Är klar över det döda med detta liv.

 

 

Klar. Hårdare än sorgens första tårar

Klar. Renare än äktad glädjes näring

 

Klar.

klar-med-doden-i-livet

Unknown's avatar

TRU KNOW TIME (E-BOOK)

by

TRU KNOW TIME – 1 SIGFRIDSSON

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NEW TIME (THE SOLSTICE WELL) ISSUE II, 47

by

NEW TIME (THE SOLSTICE WELL) ISSUE II, 47 – 1 SIGFRIDSSON

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THE HILLSIDE SMITH SECRET

by

Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,

so alike a water circle offers shallowness;

sighted shortly and withheld; so moving

 

 

Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.

 

Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.

 

Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.

 

 

Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,

unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.

 

 

Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.

 

Relief comes when Life again will be enough.

 

Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.

 

 

Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily

and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,

cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness

 

 

But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;

 

I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.

THE HILLSIDE SMITH SECRET

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THE UNTIMELY

by

Want to save this moment from escaping,

for it is irreplaceable ― irresistible ―

almost unsparingly fair ― undefiled

 

 

Calmed, by misplaced sun warmth

(the betraying), to take myself a freod filled moment

 

(Wholly and fully as a dumb animal who right away,

instantly forgets, when a little heat reaches to look in.)

 

 

Trees, continuing the raining, in a well-aimed loan

compounded with sighing, home to its certainty

 

Woods, slayed again on its leaves, on its flowers and straws,

molded to clouds and soils service in a secret

 

 

There was something well-known…

 

about all this helpless nuisance,

this here too barren established;

that Life become Death’s only joke

 

returning to soon be the lost

 

 

And while burdened steps cry away the dust of the road

the pouring rain fills an already overfilled water keg

THE UNTIMELY

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WHERE STONE SHARDS STAND

by

Choice is stone on flowers

or flowers on stone

 

YOU THERE! Follow me here and step on meandering ant-tracks

continuing down through the meadowland; in just this spring

which now remade by the meltwater runs over into…

 

Summer, went past reflecting other little summer memories

up here on juniper tree hills and field islands; down by the creeks

we turn our embraces around full-grown wild strawberry ditches

 

 

The water-mirror slumbered stuck further down in the old hollow

with its pine-needles and dust swimming on after― So prettily teasing

 

We will see invisibly lifted stone shards there behind the glade

by saddened hardened in each corner ― Yet they’re playing

 

 

The views are here allowed to be us stretched far and wide,

reachable, for us hastily taken in right before…

 

Autumn, a scent around blot wood and mushrooms in damp moss

from a silent hiding-place where one single leaf has hanged itself on;

following true life-gladness in search after worth seeing; stainless.

 

 

It died down meanwhile the river silenced below the ridge

and beside me sat a frosted fog denseness in a smile;

in its cold and snowfilled winterarms winterfairest shine

 

 

We return home inside the soll!

 

We strike forward our years on mountains!

 

We break Earth’s veins!

WHERE STONE SHARDS STAND

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AFORE BEAUTY DIES

by

Where fallow stayed accessible for years

gleaming in its coldest nightstones; calling

inside the forests snow-covered darkness

as night grew all its frost ready; to cling

 

Watching the remains sunken down in blood.

 

(My intensive double eyes

telling about my earlier lives,

remember now my clearest traces.)

 

 

Following my longings impossible demands,

 

That,

 

which never at any time will caress;

cutting a heart that thought too hard; My grave.

 

 

And all my beauty is now dead, as yours,

which in all of you so wrench and aggrieve

 

 

Missing me. My longing is cured.

FINDING. AM. BRED.

I am the new essence matured.

 

 

Extinguishing all my wounds suffering,

and awake, afore beauty dies, once more.

SPRING FLOWERS 1