Unknown's avatar

TO THE FRAGMENTS OF TRUTH

It bitters

 

just before the sunrise find its dew

and after the dew have been sipped

 

(Could anyway never heal the nights

therein the hours stretched into dawn

while flames searched hard for the Light)

 

Life searched to (leave me)

 

meanwhile Sun silently extinguished the mists

by the still and calm mountain ash by the creek

 

Life will (love me)

 

in certainity,

in the violets waving forestshadows

TO THE FRAGMENTS OF TRUTH

TO THE FRAGMENTS OF TRUTH

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

Unknown's avatar

I AM

Wanted a slumber down in the valley
close to almond trees in worthy bloom

Ring the always longed for lyre tones

But, became another

Wished to stand free in dark-green Autumn,
cleansed from all the living years hard grin

To live and die pretty as an Autumn leaf

But, are by mistakes wed

Became rainfall, cold, calling winds,
a brief scent before death,
as schythed nettle,
broken citrus leaves,
Autumn land after night rains

But, can undoubtly love

when there is something to love

It wishes to shatter here

between the gravel and the leaf-age

Finding worst love

the One, that can not be found

For me, betrayal is not good enough,
cleanest love violated,
the ruins clothes
or the own wills struggle slaughtered

I am laid opened, one aloned unrotten,
in the apple basket given to the sorrows
I am so strangely hard, so oddly grained,
to be carried away from abandoned mills

Knowing all waving wind-flowers Sun kissed
The beautifully crestfallen, already dulled,
laid there the heart worn almost was enough
and to your refusal never have been missed

I am entangled,
stricken down in quenching pettiness

I am hidden,
with an unreachable cold-hammered need

I am grieved,
filled with all the days nothingness

I am mist raised,
clouded, covered underneath weakened will

I am glowing snow on frozen stock
in memory’s burned down forests

I am incarcerated, left where blemishes are left

I am a still night cloud, uprising scent of leaves,
that never will find the Worlds again

I am my winnings pulled away,
taken and swept in a gulp

Holding the Tree you know holds your leaves
while we break off the branches

I am this.

I am what you never can feel

I AM

I AM

Unknown's avatar

IN YET ANOTHER AUTUMNFALL

(I am bored with my attempts to translate this poem into proper  English. I will just publish it as it is for now and hope for help… I am fully aware that it is more or less word by word translations that I do of my own work, which others might find “wrong”, but I do work with higher set goals.)

 

Dream me in rowanwreathed Autumnforest days

there shimmering cling near the sleeping fields

meanwhile a broken mist stumbles, lifts ― Rises

 

And a silent rain sweeps ― The bonfire hisses

 

Travelling mist covered

And soon it dawns again  ― Again

 

Watching wilderness, playing with dry leaves,

eating my thistles carefully and gifting smiles

beneath days of past grayish skies mirrored

 

And have alone been stuck ― Where Time stopped

 

The almost unnoticed waves in the mountain creek

listens near by to the pleasing small drops of rain,

watching the forest thin in slow pace with Autumn

and knew that the leaves would fall here ― Again

 

Travelling mist covered ― Traceless

Soon it dawns again ― Again

 

Reached an early marsh in its slow leaf falling,

herein may serenity caress and milden

 

You, Autumnland, are Death´s lost portent

 

And soon a Winternightwind was heard calling

IN YET ANOTHER AUTUMNFALL

IN YET ANOTHER AUTUMNFALL

Unknown's avatar

GLANCES WITHOUT WORDS

The broken white-cherry tree,

split in the trunk as it was,

beautygrown to be and give,

stand remembered

*

While rivulets trickle down before him

he takes out worms from wild raspberries

*

Daydreaming that He reaches Time,

The All Realitys Naval itself

He, in lee safety under shelter

He, which is calmed by the rain

*

HOPE

LUST

WILL

SUN returned

with eyes thorned

He is redeciphered,

violated and tarnished

He is made unseen,

outplayed and leafless

*

Clawed by your nearness

Clawed by my nearness

*

Into the fold to be corrected wrong
and poorly eat betrayal and wretch

He gives glances without words

Flickered

*

This in-borne, devouring,
hates real despair,
frost strikes this inconsolable life
to all the Worlds in wait

You will only find healthy stains
which will appear as like unlike
feed even more than the actual hindrance
which have refused this Önds greatness

Cease to order my realityanswers
after your willbelief of whim emotions
Taking me now from this unbearable;
out from the existence of wassails drink

YOUR SOUGHT DIMINISHMENT DOES NOT REACH ME!

HERE WILL FORCED UPON NEVER BE MY WILL!

KNOW WHO HAVE STOLEN OUR EYES!

GRABBING THE DEATHBREAD FROM US ALL!

CALLING FORTH THIS RENEWED WARPATH!

GIVING US THE RIGHT LOVE BACK!

BENEATH SUN AND MIST

BENEATH SUN AND MIST

Unknown's avatar

I NATTFROST DRAGET

Gömd i sista Vintervistet kom Döden

likt en späd och ursäktande gråterska

och satt sig i förnimman, i viskanden:

 

Sökte här själva Livet till frände,

i det sårbara, i ditt ensamt döende

 

Vi är en lämnad, skugglös storm,

trycker våra tärda ord mot mörkret,

pressar nattens timmar; lär oss frysa

 

(Blev dragen hit genom markerna i mörkret,

släpades över tidsavståndet, stenar och isar)

Och kölden, har blott min fagerhet i ordet,

men tomheten;

har sin tomhet fastnad Väven

I NATTFROST DRAGET

I NATTFROST DRAGET

Unknown's avatar

GLÄNTAD

Seså, ta nu stigen fram ― Kom och bli gläntad!

 

Gläntade ―

tagna från oron, minda glittrat bäckvatten,

hinner vi fram, binder hit, dagbräckets ny!

 

Vandrade ―

fridfyllda med sötkärva stensötesmaken

kliver fasta gryningssteg på daggälskad stig!

 

Hänryckta!

Vi lirkar regeln av till snårskogarnas gömställen,

kvistar äntligt ur detta druckna lidande framräckt
ty Glädjen vill inför Livet irrblossas alltför kvickt!

 

Älskande ―

höjer milt slitna blickar att Vårställa vår träda,

skönjer skogstilla suset näras rent av detta ljus,
skynda färden, fort klä, kransa oss i levande prakt!

 

Viskande ―

i kanten av denna glänta äger Sanningen sökt sitt svar

intill dovt grönt, ett mjukt svalt, lövjad fager begärelse
beskärt med rikaste bärblomstens renaste förälskelse!

Vi stegar gläntade fram, rinner källade upp, kom hit, tyst,

ty snart är blomningen förbi och åren har oss färdigkysst!

GLÄNTAD

GLÄNTAD

Unknown's avatar

TILL SANNINGENS FRAGMENT

Det bittras

 

innan gryningen finner sin dagg

och efter det att daggen druckits

 

(Kunde ändå aldrig lindra nätterna
därinne timmarna sträcktes till särlan
medan facklorna oömt sökte efter Ljuset)

 

Livet sökte (lämna mig)

 

medan Solen stilla släckte sjöröken

vid stillatigande rönnen över bäcken

 

Livet kommer (älska mig)

 

i vissheten,

i violernas vajande skogsskuggor

 

MOUNTAIN ASH

MOUNTAIN ASH

Unknown's avatar

REGNAD

Skurar tätnar skyarna, träs landskapet

Ett slagregn väter skogen, dansar å,
böjer blåriset ställt uppå mossade stenar
och ränner ilar här intill genom snåren

Snavar rötter ―  Skingrar såren

Där!, solstrålefamnade vilda träd
gömda bergomkransad ödemark,
stärker vad minnet länge hägrat:

Gäckat Verkligheten varit grenat

Det ligger en pil i regnet, skjuten,
hitförd, fastnad ett försakat hjärta

Sänd tystad, bittrad och levad
Stannad.

Regnad i sjö

REGNAD

REGNAD