Unknown's avatar

LIGHT CAME!

THIS IS THE FORCE TROTH HAVE SIGNED!
THIS IS THE MIGHT OF THE HOLY RITE!

SHOW YOURSELF

TRANSFORM YOURSELF

YOU ARE SOWED TO BE LOVED!

*

SOWING THE GROUND!

EMBRACING THE WIND!

CLIMBING OUT OF WINTER!

AWAKENING THE HOLDER OF THE LIBATED BLOOD!

THIS IS SHELTER FOR THE ENCLOSURED

WITH THE FUTURE OUT OF HOMELESSNESS!

*

THIS IS VIET GIVEN OUT FROM THE HIDDEN,

BURIETH TO ENNOBLEMENT OF THE TRUTH!

WARRIORS LIVE THEIR GAIN WITH WISDOM

AND LET FUTILENESS SLIP AND FALL DEAD!

*

TO THE SWORDS!

CAST THE WORLDS AWAY FROM ANGUISH!

LIFE HAS BEEN DRIVEN HERE FROM THE HIGH,

TO THE HARD CHOOSEN CHOICES WITHOUT CHOICE!

*

BEAR SHALL TEAR, ULV BITE,

SNAKE STRIKE AND RAVEN RIP!

*

LIGHT CAME!

TURN AND WITHOUT REST WANDER HOME!

SUN

SUN

Unknown's avatar

RAMBLINGS (NEW YEAR ADVANCE SESSION)

 

This world is a migraine attack. I, it is always I, get it now…

I sit in this forest night and day, caught counting falling leaves that wish for me to stay. These mountains no longer whisper me as ravens. I have no fear to fear. Finally, the sorrows have eaten too many meals on my behalf.

I know my futures and I have seen my paths; the choices of somethings and nothings that can never become enough for me. For others all that could be looked upon as “experiences”; all these living nightmares in those dead hearts that need perfume while looking into buying another meagre meal ticket in a deranged world. The unwanted are living the Illusion to trade with the other unwanted and useless. Laugh or cry?

I really had a horrible year. Again. Set-up some scum and made no friends. Again. Travelled to where I didn’t want to travel. Again. Rehearsed a play that never will see the light. Set fire to manuscripts that will never see the light. Read in some of my older poetry. Wrote a little that maybe will see the light. By now you can clearly see that I am this miserable person without any life at all. That is partly right. My life is playing the waiting game. I know my days to come and what will await me. I should feel hate and love and all the other things that make me shine so very brightly, still I do know that the quality of my life is about a million times higher than the average person due to Knowledge, but the downsides my friends, due to those “other people”…

I irritate “other people” sometimes by having no interest and absolutely no respect for whatever they do and whatever they foolishly believe they are. If not with The Gods then you are less than nothing. Should I have hatred or pity for “other people”? I take my pick later on.

Anyway, being “Asatru” in a world where so many are held under siege in the War of all Wars that they are quite clueless about; Life itself and its Realities, is of course a strain to live through. In the future nobody will be able to imagine how life was here at present… I have written several articles on these matters that I never published, apart from one that was up for a short while, and some only spread around and looked at by some people I have, or had, contact with. It is a waiting game. Time that is.

Time.

BED FOR HATRED

BED FOR HATRED

 

 

 

Unknown's avatar

TO LIFE BEG

Still in longing our embrace stayed, in dead words,

pressed against field moisture to grow as refused

 

(Taking our love away from labyrinthine answers on a night blackened heath)

 

Our tender moments searched in vain after its hold

for hardened by remorse will hope us now own alone

 

(Soiled and completely thorn the heart in direness is forced to lay)

 

It is me an unloved grin to reflect:

To life beg

 

Meagerness have bared weak words against our eyes witness,

glittered in dust´s helplessness, unmoving mirrors: Memories

 

I have waited, got stuck,

there immovable walls have built life´s game,

ordered the nonyears unwise unlust ended:

To break and bury

 

Dwelling here

 

Learned death:

Life infected by its tearing

 

Have spoken sweetly and touched near the shimmer

And: Dignifiedly hated

 

Cold,

love our farewell

 

 

Warm up the ground.

TO LIFE BEG

TO LIFE BEG

Unknown's avatar

SOM SLITET SKUGGSPEL

Inlyssnar.

Minns åldrande skogsglansen
Regnstänkta mönstren
Våta löven famnande marken

Smyger norrnatt.

Vandrar stigarna, lär ordlös hållbarhet,
genom månens målande skogsskuggor
över näpen tystnad och vissen lövjord

Kvar. Nu i gryning utan ord.

Står invid skogsbrynet som en hemlighet,
som tröttnat och misslyckat blänkt bråte
där sorgerna alltid sitter i tillfälligt fruset

Återstår ändå. Fastnad.

Är övergivet famnad,
alldeles för hårt frånryckt slitande ovisshet
oaktat min väna smultrontid villigt återkom
och ställde sig längst bort från överflödighet

Frihet?

Dröjdes inunder älskvärt seglande valkmolnen
medan betagande backsmultronen i lummet
stod hjälplöst fagrade i vädjande efter glömska

Nöd.

Lindring: Liv och död.

SOM SLITET SKUGGSPEL

SOM SLITET SKUGGSPEL

 

https://www.poeter.se/Las+Text?textId=1788105

 

 

Unknown's avatar

MIDVINTERNS ÄNDESTEN

Mörkret har gömt mina stigar

 

Finner inte Verkligheten vid liv här

 

Ärren, mycket nämnt, alltför väl inne är

 

(Tänder nattlyktan och trampar ovan skaren)

 

 

Betalade långt mer än Livets värden

och är driven tusentals år in i Döden

 

Mitt namn: Makternas första resta ändesten

 

Kalken hämtade mig åter lämnad ur Källan

hit sorg och flykt ensamt fann mig att levas

 

Satta tryggbänkade glor lömskt denna väntan itu,

tigga kärt allt vad redbart varit till Världarna värt

och önskar min närvaro att bitas löst och futtigt,

kärvt och slutligt spotta smittorna in efter betten

 

Tjänta smädare sena till nyttiga gravfamningarna 

glädjas över sin stulna, oförtjänta åldrade storhet

och klungande uppå vageln sitter tallriksslickarna 

medan Midgård ruttnat, stelnat, till meningslöshet

 

Vallas genom framställda misslyckanden att timra,

fastvärkta minnen där nekat Världarna blivit sakat

medan dagarnas bett räknar sig kvar sammanbitet

tills vägran tvingades hit; Till ett slutgiltigt rämnat

 

Ristar bergfast att gjort så blir Tiden.

 

Vet att Sanningen är min gravhög.

Vet nu eller aldrig.

 

(Släcker nattlyktan och kliver genom skaren)

 

MIDVINTERNS ÄNDESTEN

MIDVINTERNS ÄNDESTEN

 

(Väntan räckte mig inte fram, forna fränder,
till läkningen, nycklarna hamnade minnets hav,
ty Tidens brännhög är buren facklad i stilla grav)

 

Unknown's avatar

ALLODJORD

Ser

mull fylla tyg

 

Hör

diken stilla sippra

 

Hasar Ödet.

 

Väntar tre Soldagar

 

Bryter nästat dunkel ― Sprickor

Öppnar trumman ― Sprickor

Bottenfrusna källor ― Sprickor

Gör facklad nattstig där svartklädda fåglar dansar

medan månbetten smeker i en Vindkysst skörd

Lyfter,

trycker mark och berg hem till Gudablodet

ALLODJORD

ALLODJORD

 

 

Unknown's avatar

THE ILLUSION OF THE GREAT WRITERS

Originally posted 6/1-13 on: http://thesolsticewell.com/

Stumbled upon a copy of “Faust” by Goethe some time ago. I had read parts and excerpts of it in German and Swedish before, so I already knew it was crap.

I had a volume of Goethe’s poetry before and liked some parts and pieces of that, so there is no denying from my part that he could write decent. Technically speaking.

This book is one among the two dozen books that have been typical for the intellectual crowd to walk around with a copy of. Found it so humouring that I walked down the streets with it in my pocket that I actually just had to take a picture of that. 

JUNK-CULTURE

JUNK CULTURE

The story of “Faust” is just dumb and poorly written.

There is the fiction figure called “God” in it that have no resemblance whatsoever with reality. It is really insulting that a fake “god” stole and still use the name God against God. (Not even mentioning the thousands of other things that parasite steal from The Gods).  Furthermore, there are some characters in a nonsensical discussion that also come from fiction, all done with the deranged minds view. Etc. You get the picture.

As the case with all junk culture there is nothing of interest and it all lead down to nowhere land. It reminds me, not surprisingly, of how Strindberg later used to build up his plays.

I do not blame fiction for being non-fiction. I blame these silly illusions to enter and derange non-fiction and then affect fiction. I understand that this is fictional writing from a man that know very little about the realities of life. Still, when people like this spread their junk it affects the minds and continue to kill Culture. It is really depressing to know that junk culture like this have been promoted so well that it is currently called “fine literature”. Or any other cliché I might think of. There is, to no surprise,  even worse books out there by other “great writers”. Burn them.

Do I write better than Goethe? If not, then I have no say, you say? That is completely beside the point. (It is not my personal goal to be a great writer. My goal is to give of my knowledge.) Everyone have to start facing the fact that most of what have been produced in literature and arts have been filthied, some of it is forged and is being used as tools for murder and much worse for hundreds of years. It will all be trashed as the new time enters. Be prepared for it.

Literature, music and other forms of entertainment must be cleaned. Junk culture can only inspire to shape more junk. I am against junk entering the mind, defiling and murdering all higher values. What freedom does the victimized, these insane and twisted have? To make this world a trash can for everyone?

I would rather be completely empty than full of that litter.

Unknown's avatar

MY LOVE

THIS IS THE TENDERNESS EMBRACE OF LOVE!

*

Binding twigs against darkness, the threatening,

that threaten to burn all our heartsongs

and take the loveable away from its curing

*

A young Ash bend down to answer

Flowers step up and play!

My love is for springs, blackberries and rainbows!

My love is for silver fir trees and wildgrown pear trees!

My love is the sun-warmed cowslip slopes and paddocks!

*

I kiss the wind healthy, smiling with the sky here,

laughing at the curious fox there!

One appreciation of the volatile you learn

when we into the heart can pick berries!

*

The wagtail trips, the worms lay on a line

A twig is broken by the ground far from a town

Stoneshards stand in a circle

The cornflower knows everything!

*

My love is to the groves, wild strawberries and ponds!

My love is for mushrooms and extensive valleys!

My love is the glittering creeks and mountain trails!

*

MY LOVE IS TO EVERYTHING WORTH LOVE! 

TIME IS ALL

TIME IS ALL