MORE THAN LOVE

 

Seldom do futile words about love take on a living,

but leave in defiance its new ruins everywhere.

 

Listen in here carefully now, sneerlife;

Wrong in the head gives wrong in the eyes.

Right in nothing own rights to nothing.

Shut thereafter kindly your slow snout.

 

Advice on advice writes a starving harvest

wording a wisdom stolen from nonsense

wherein tiresome words are endowed pity

so like raisins showing the full grape vine

 

We know all too well that been and had are us a wretch to harvest

so keep all your filthy, wry-legged and weakmoulded words

where all regretted ”love” always takes its way home to be hated

 

Hear the laughter at your comparing of mutual infantilities to be sane

and find you thereafter that the will to your wrongs are missing here,

furthermore that more than love is not a mystery; The name remains.

 

Rip from its hold

that cleanest emotions have here too hard been used up,

that the fairest scum creeps in line before foulest!

 

Rip from its hold that suffering and death stand all near!

 

Take to its hold

that Honour will outshine petty survival,

that only Truth does own us in real Beauty!

MORE THAN LOVE

MORE THAN LOVE

IN AN AWAITED LUSTFALL

Leaned against this mirkened fence
are we found equally bleached,
beaten by sun, rain and winter cold

The wait was like cracks around ice-holes,
in cold, unreliable and of inadequacy,
for the scum’s loopholes, nonsensical sidetracks,
refused me to blossom anew during withering

It all carried on, kept creating that ― nothing,
when all of this suffering bred forth its pitifulness
So, show me a memory freed from complaint here,
but honourable shall to my eyes can only Knowledge be

I am the quarry of Life’s faults
with my pathfound steps

Loved
Always feared

Hated
Always hailed

IN AWAITED LUSTFALL

IN AWAITED LUSTFALL

SOM HEILIGT VRAKGODS

Tillåter stillheten att skärpa och vidga synen. Övertydligt.

Skänker upp intensivt nära ögonblick.

 

Tänker verkligen inte omständigt sträva nere i intet. Aldrig någonsin stanna i närheten av slöddret; de tveklöst och ofrånkomligt sinnessjuka massorna. Kan omöjligen röra vid någon som helst del av fiendens fullständigt lönlösa och perverterade illusion. Vägrar traska i, bredvid, under, eller ens en bit ovan det värdelösa.

Är alltför verklig, alltför egenartad och godhjärtad. Men, är ännu av nöden och för omvärldens tvingande skull kvar ett tag till som en något självpåtaget naiv… Har varit fastsatt i ett tillfälligt för länge… Men nu…

Aldrig.

Mår ständigt illa av all slags nödtvungen beröring med de som är utanför Gudarnas hägn. Är äcklad av att se eller höra de strandade kvar i den kompakta efterblivenheten dessa blivit nogsamt lurade till att kalla normalitet. Så maktlösa och störda, närmast bortom alla försök att kunna återbeskriva. Håller mig utanför era ovidkommande föreställningar, bortom den teater av ruttnande död där nu ”insikter” är lika med tragiska felslut, eller som bäst bara tomma ord.

 

Och blindnässlornas sting bränner åren svårt

innan Vetandet stampat hållbaraste mynten…

 

Parasiteringen, alla stölderna och fuskverkens hopskrapade vapen gjorda av ord är insaltade till att här plåga folken med, dessa dumheter blir till förnedring; klena ursäkter till liv lagda i smuts och efterblivenhet. Och utanför, under samhället, kryper parasiternas ”gud” ledande sin egen ohyra; dessa tillverkare av dussintals defekta generationer vilka tränats i att efterlikna fiendens inre orenhet och själva bli till äcklande parasiter. Straffsatsen och del i ansvaret blir tyvärr identiskt när de drabbade, de milt sagt defekta i sinnet, tar någon del av fiendens identitet. Verksamheten med hjärntvätt ledande fram till manipulationer, massövergrepp och slutligen massmord i vår värld är ingenting någon ska kunna blunda inför. Döden, därefter lidande och slutgiltiga döden, väntar dessa. Detta sker oaktat vad någon fått sig inbillat.

 

Från sötman tagna tigger böjda under slagen

där döden gnager djupt i redan hålögda

och tvångsföder kväljande misstagen.

 

Ack! Om jag blott och bart vore en bitter. En normalt misslyckad, allena och oönskad, som bara råkat på att genomskåda högst uppenbar problematik i världens låga lager och snubblat över fiendens stinkande trådar vilka sitter därnere och kallar sig ”himmel” (SIC!) och drar ner de sjuka till sitt träck. Alla dessa övertydliga och självklara orsakssamband vilka klarlägger hur Striden är, vad som skett och sker, kommer att möta Ljuset.

Vore jag en slags sådan som vill tro sig själv vara den nya normen för världen att följa, då vore jag personligen mycket, mycket lycklig. Det vore onekligen en skön dröm för mig att bara vara en något högdragen och inbilsk, personligen… Så simpelt är det inte, tyvärr. Är fortfarande, ett tag till, någonting så otänkbart för många att kunna förstå, något i stora delar okänt bara Gudarna och själva Livet alltid älskar ensamt och högt i vår värld; En av många reinkarnerade krigare med Vetandet intakt.

De goda delarna av denna värld; Viet, de Gudatrogna, ska bli allt som finns kvar av mänskligheten i denna värld. För oss här är Midgård mer än bara en av Allfader Odins världar.   

Spåren fram till Asgårds portar har aldrig ändrats.

 

Vetandet styr Makternas liv vilket ger Världarna viljan till Livet.

Vänta en kommande vapenstorm.

 

Ny tid kommer. Slutgiltigt.

SOM HEILIGT VRAKGODS

SOM HEILIGT VRAKGODS

SOM BRYTPUNKTER

Tar mig ner i smutsiga illusionens nästen. Söker lindra något tröstlöst, men tål i sanning blott det mig tilltalande… Förblir omutbar. Låter laterna och begären sakna tillträde. Vägrar knäa böjd inför orätten. Smickrar ändå obehagens lönnrum för en tid.

Letar brytpunkter.

Iklädd smärtan; den sist önskade vännen.

(Vi inkommer härmed till ett par månader som var en intagande och förundrande gåta som ingen annan riktigt vill glömma fort. Det fanns mig intet kvar till val.)

Flyr undan och tillgriper dessutom något lekande alla tänkbara och påstådda upphöjda tankar som tidigare burit min vardagsheder vidare.

Jagad. Hemlös. Slaggar på golvet med dragen kniv. Omgiven av några spridda stycken tillgripet gods.

Befinner mig långt borta från litteraturens imaginära estetik där inga ord lämnar mycket kvar av verkligt intresse till vare sig samtid eller framtid. Säljer ner mig till mina ensamt tillåtna brott med en giltig äkthet, givetvis patinerad; så att den blir vackrare. Det sägs mig att detta är erfarenheter ingen behöver, erfarenheter som kan erhållas lättvindigt med tanken, det är erfarenheter som få andra kan finna motiverade. Bara en dåres infall…  

Överger ställa tankarna på annat än min Nöd, Rätten; och den ”maximerade vinsten”. Avvaktar utan att finna mig några applåder… Det är förgjort. Står tungt lastad med ”en fjäder gör en höna” och tillskriven än värre. Möter mig ständigt i det otänkbara. Ständigt… Är alltid fortsatt oskadd allra längst härinne i mig och dessutom litet road. Är hårdare än ni kan föreställa er. Är även vekare än ni tror.

Väljer att fastna. Inhägnas till att lida mer.

Gallren hindrar inte att utanför återförs ett snötäckt landskap. Låter mig nästan maktlöst nedslås till att känna en viss mättnad inför den komiska situationen.

Lider mer.

Det naiva i oss alla vill stundtals återkomma segrande med ett sken av insikter och handfasthet. När ett tvärsäkert övande med sötaste orden har bortvalt allt oönskat härinne i oss och lämnat kvar till lönen att nu verkligen försöka känna rädslorna… Eller snarare känslorna, ni vet det där djuriska, mest uppbyggt av ord, av inbillningar och föreställningar parat med kroppens egna nycker och tillkortakommanden.

Vill någon invända något, kanske upphäva, forsla bort Livet till att bli vid den tomhet vi redan känner? Världen här har kvarstannat i ett grumligt och löjeväckande medan skenbara svepskälen växer sin styrka i svagheter. Låt mig åtminstone få införa inre blidväder till den skymda sikten… Låt oss kalla det att uppnå ett Intet. Kalla det klarsynen. Existens i samklang med Alltet. Dumheter oavsett.

Framstiger sedan som en oändligt härdad, i ett eget grepp innesluten, inskuren, övertäckt misärerna åren tvivlat sig genom.

 

Har ingrotts,

insett nödtorften,

redan tanklöst spillts iväg på lort och glitter. Kärlek.

SOM BRYTPUNKTER

SOM BRYTPUNKTER

WHO IS 1 SIGFRIDSSON?

(Reblogged from 23/12-12.)

Interview with 1 SIGFRIDSSON on his birthday.

Tell me about your upcoming books.

It will be two books with poetry. Little bits of Knowledge in it here and there. Then there is another book that is on hold, maybe it will be cut up and posted on a homepage. We will see. My chances of becoming a ”established writer” are drained anyway. Not that I would even care to wish for that.

Today most writers try to get their share of egoistical recognition with pointless provocations while they drag themselves and the recipients further down the spiral. At this point in time I have the choice of writing meaningless poetry for a few or do poetry that is clever for less than a few. I don´t stand a chance in this helpless and hopeless society. The warped illusions are so overwhelming in this world. There will be a demand for my writing when conformity and normality will become fairly sane again.

What are your plans for the future?

I wish to be more pretentious. Then simply to separate the high from the low forever. I write everything for the future and my future is already done.

You worked with music before. Wish to tell us something about that?

Not really. I had a small and independent production company that released some records and organized concerts. Did that for a couple of years and I worked in a mix between DIY and semi-professional. I honestly regret every second of it. A total of ten years of my life down the drain for nothing.

Did two dumb interviews a while back where I took the retro-perspective on music and went along with it. However, I honestly think that almost all music made in this deranged period reeks. I remember when I started with music that I thought that everyone must be involved in some kind of ongoing joke about music that I wanted to find out about.

I did a fanzine that looked really horrible, I could easily have made it look like a proper magazine. Had the idea that if I did it a bit lower then it would not strain me to better it for the next issue… (This could possibly be a sign of an underacheiver.) Never had the thinking that one should always try the best one can. It all seemed so pointless. And I was right. I am embittered by the whole thing.

I recall that I was against censorship meanwhile being unaware to that people became rotten by consuming the junk-culture. Handing out ”praise to scum” was a normality in ”our” society to accept. I cared for nothing happening in society as it seemed so boring. Etc.

OK. That might be a bit insulting to some. I do see a bit of what you are getting at here. Do you believe that you are better than everyone else?

I am not saying that at all. I’m merely pointing out that there are some key ingredients that are lacking in the minds to be able to produce something really good. I have all my high hope in the future to come.

If we take my presented writing and hobby photography as an example, then you see that I have a quite low standard, partly deliberately, and partly as I hold it to be good enough. I don’t even care to have a proper camera and I just needed to get a few photos to fill my books, my blogs and then some background photos that I could use for a magazine.

So, I’m not a narcisssist by any stretch of the imagination. If you wish to perceive it like that, then that is sad. I just possess Knowledge others lack at the moment. Simple as that.

1 SIGFRIDSSON

1 SIGFRIDSSON

From where do you get inspiration? What is the Knowledge you mention?

Truth and my cleaned mind is my main inspiration. Inspiration also comes from nature, being the only place where I feel that there is something worthy embracing at the moment. Nature and existance itself is also known as The Unknown God to whom The Gods turn.

I remember the breaking point for me some sixteen years ago. I stopped what I was doing and sold the junk I could get rid off and then burned the rest of my belongings. Moved around, on the run, working extremely hard to find The Answer. I had to practice ”the art of imploding” instead of being creative to prove that I existed to others.

Made my antidote against my foes. I absolutely alienated all my old friends, they became convinced that I had lost my marbles. They still believe that. I can’t really blame them for it. Looking at the society we now have to live under and are victims of, then I can be seen as their enemy of all that junk they are forced into believing.

The Knowledge I have come from ”forefathers” that I know and have met. Also, my own memory brings back much Knowledge. I promise that I now would never say or do anything that I’m not completely certain about.

You wanted to be a writer before this happened?

Yeah, if I didn’t know what I do know then I would probably have had a small career as a writer and musician.

I am all for creativity, still that is not really where I should focus my own time with down here. I will be looked upon as someone who has ”strange opinions” and that live after the ”assumption” that The Gods are real. Until I am proven right. You ask me for proof? I say you should learn how to read history first. The Truth is exactly the opposite of what the majority now are able to accept any knowledge of. I rightfully feel a strong ”pena ajena” against almost everyone at this point.

Are you Odinist or Asatru? What made you believe in this?

Both. Neither. Closest, from others viewpoint, would be a Universal Odinist. I don’t believe. I truly know. My writing will be overlooked because of this connection with ”Asatru”. I’m not even trying to be accepted as a ”follower of The Gods” or something like that. I have no contact at all with anyone outside of us here that actually know that The Gods are real and the full impact and significance of this. The rest are beyond reach at this point.

There is a notion that many have that they more or less need to be superhuman to be accepted by The Gods and that Asatru is only for somewhat ”perfect people”. So, they believe that there is little point in even trying to reach Asgard if they have any flaws. If you are worthy then you will be accepted. Seriously, it is never enough to just follow The Gods with words, you have to work for it or remain useless to the realities of life.

I know that most people are triggered to react like retarded children against eveything outside their current consensus. I pity that they are now made to think and behave exactly like our hated foes. That was their final goal. Happy now?

Laugh it up and deny it if you can. There will be humble pie later.

Your poetry is filled with some passages that are hard for me to understand.

As I stated earlier, I write for a future that is nearby. You need to know a few obvious things to be able to read it. There are some poems that are written pretty simple and without any ”passages” so that anyone could read them without problems. Some of the temporary translations I have made are terrible. I cringed a bit when I published them on my blog. The poems ”Give life!”, ”Stones” and ”Gotsala” are alright for now.

This might surprise some when I say this, but I don’t strive to become a ”poet”. The pressure involved to write really immaculate poetry made me take another angle at it. I also have to say that everything written from your own identity and perspective is meaningless without Truth. There is no ”my own truth”. That is simply ridiculous. My own writing might be ”personal”, but here and there it takes on the identity of the sum of everything and Knowledge. I sound very odd now. Anyway, that is as close as I wish  to explain it.

I´m not sure if I fully understand this. You seem to have anger against society, writers and culture?

Absolutely. I am against junk. On the contrary, I do really care for writing, culture, arts and estetics. Real culture is what binds The Gods together with humanity, apart from the blood that we all share. So, yes, I do care for what culture should be and can be. The present junk-culture that is everywhere is just filthy and it causes suffering and death. As a whole the ”culture” is so filthied by the foes of The Gods. I mean, unbelievably filthied, to the point that it now must be trashed.

Trash all culture?

Junk-culture is not my definition of culture. For future reference then: I took an Oath to fulfill. I constantly have that responsibility with me. Most are partly clueless to what I’m referring to right now and fail to see clearly. They don’t even have the patience to read and try to understand what I’m telling them. The reason is that they haven’t been collectively informed. That’s how sad life here is. If you seriously think that I will do my books, or my homepages, for any kind of warped search for fame, then you are in the dark. I do it to be sure that some information comes out and does some good in the near future.

You claim that there is a war on society that we lack knowledge of. Would you care to broaden our understanding?

The War of all Wars is real. The War is in everything and every being in existance. Knowledge of The Gods and this War is our only hope to stay alive. If you are taught that we should be accepting towards our foes arsenal of words that brainwash and degenerate. Accepting our murderers? We are under the most extreme oppression. It will not be alright and fine by itself. Ragnarok will come. Nothing will change that.

I don’t care if you don’t like me. You don’t have to. I probably don’t like you at all. Still, that is not of any bigger interest for our goal if I think you stink or not. We don’t need to mingle. When people are unknowingly controlled by beings that constantly search to humiliate and thereby murder, then we must unite against it. Understand that they do not have any love for us at all. They are parasiting on The Gods and they hate us all. Whatever they say is of no significance at all. The only thing of any value they have managed to learn us is to show no mercy.

I have no more questions for now. Anything you want to add to this?

I have lots of things to add. I wish to be an obstacle that will always favor the sane. Remember that I will never become what you imagine me to be.

Hold Truth above all.

ODIN IS THE ANSWER.

There you have it, my dear and undear friends.