Tag Archives: LITERATURE
NEW YEAR!
I reached my goals for this year when it comes down to showing up with some productivity, granted be that it was for the most part writing as far back as seven years that went into small print and production. I also managed to reach post number three hundred and got over five thousand followers on this blog/homepage. And, I started up www.asatruth.com again with a dozen posts.
The two books I made this year with my translated poetry; AS ONE and HUNTED IN INVIOLABLE BLOOD has been read by a few thousand and understood by too few, they will of course be read by many more; and much more interested people in the future. I also did a book in Swedish with poetry; I KLARHET IMMA (IN CLARITY MIST) and I had my second photo exhibition under the name 1 SIGFRIDSSON; called DUSSINFOTO (DOZENPHOTO). As my grand finale for this year I did the magazine: NEW TIME (THE SOLSTICE WELL) that gathered some of my articles, naturally I found some minor mistakes here and there after it was completed…. O! I continuously avoid perfection.
I’m rarely as productive as I would like to be so I’m pleased anyway. (Honestly, I’m a bit humoured by how I always wait so I can start up from zero with everything I have done in my life. It has to do with that I would get bored and leave it if I didn’t keep it a bit shaky and interesting until final day of production. It gives it that unique one of a kind touch, perhaps or perhaps not… I can always fix it in the mix some other rainy day.)
I still buy and sell a few books, records and other crap now and then on the internet. I find it curious that many believe that I must be a “fan” of what I “trade” with… Trust me, I’m not a “fan” of any junk-culture. As far as I’m concerned it can all burn and be erased from this world. Why do I even touch it? It keeps my mind occupied a few hours here and there every second month or so. Maybe I just need a small hobby to avoid going out and stabbing people? (By the way, I have stopped with this small trading, I might sell a few things once or twice more…)
Earlier this year there was some goofy literature magazines that complained about that I gave them material through e-mail without treating them as very special individuals, as they all are so important that I just have to send them a few words each for their magazines that I would never read, at least not without puking. Why send them anything then? It is merely for spreading my material around a bit. I really do not wish to be in any of the junk-culture magazines. I have stopped sending out material altogether now, not a copy was sent out of NEW TIME (THE SOLSTICE WELL). I might send out something in the future, but I doubt it. (I might become forced to, for some reason or another…)
You know, if the world was perfect then I would sit and dream and write aesthetic and fragile poetry all day long. I would have some peaches with cream and some cold mineral water and then go out and smell the forest after the rain in the Spring/Summer/Autumn. Etc. I do not sit and daydream as the nightmare of the present reality in this world will take over in a few seconds… Now there is a Winter… I do not have any papers to write on… On the positive side I do have some cream in a can… It is fattening.
I figure that I’m now about 0,001% of what I should have been some twenty years ago, that is slightly depressing. At least I’m on the map for the New Time and that is more than most who lived in this sad middle-period of time have. Next year will be mine.
I will raise One fulltru-glass on New Year as a first, last and always.
1 S

DETTA ÄR HALVA STIGENS LÄNGD
”Du, du var knappast i någonting ljuvligt fylld,
alltid en så villrådig och blygt inväntande.”
Och dagen…
där solstrålarna drömde sig genom hulten
och finner något tänkbart värdigt min vilja igen
Och natten…
när våra tårar tog famntag runtom skönhet
medan tiden vissna ner i vår nattstilla trygghet
Kommer tystlåtet trevande i gäckande år,
likt livgivande skuggornas uppresta syner
famlar i ljusets alla nattsnår
Fastnar. Ett nytt dystert, gistet ögonblick här står…
SKYMD! Är ett hindrat ljus, så tvinande…
Skyggande… Spelad inför mörkrets sken.
Skingras. Nedriver det sammanbrutna.
Fortfarande dricker brutna blicken solskenet
och väntar genom det smeksamt flimrande ljuset
(Fick här stå över ett kast
i en olöst rörelse ovilligt ljusmålad
ty detta är halva stigens längd.)

1 SIGFRIDSSON – HUNTED IN INVIOLABLE BLOOD (POETRY E-BOOK)
After most of these translations have been sitting around for five years, I finally got it somewhat together.
INVIOLABLE
Poured in a few warming glances for sweetly rare memories
to carry away, pity gone by, to enclose this inviolable,
yet get to sense those wet summer meadows caress my legs,
to catch the calm wind close to the corner of this stable
.
Dreamed,
I am everywhere down here called a dreamed
.
A hidden,
inside indecisions; the seasons rake me in as gone
.
Glances of Life linger on to remain inside the bitter hurted
and to guest the old property as if this life still was alive,
as if an unknown mist hanged on to this very Life perished,
as would my life still remain in Life as my own Life
.
(Coldly clear. A partly unhinged wooden gate creaks wind,
opened unto a forgotten yard whose remains can be sighted slightly.)
.
Leaned over wooden boxes filled up with potatoes and carrots,
smelling in filled bags with mealy apples in the foyer cold
which all lasted as long as Winter would hand its permission
.
(Frost stricken. The gravel path glimmers its fragile floes,
small stones set inside the frozen sand did glisten still.)
.
I am snared sorrow-wise, bilious, mild-eyed, fragile and lost
like the last apple shined witnessed left on its winter branch
sees this year’s harvest of autumn leaves beauty rolled in frost
.
I stand ended,
alone left unarmed against unreality’s gruesomeness
.
Sidling up to the charcoal kiln forgotten by the region
in thinking of friends’ swords drawn out from the field below
.
Underneath the darkness,
fresh laid snow mounds in a blue bleak winter night
.
.
.
Brewed afterglow:
Dead stars’ cries of regret in the night
beneath gleamingly lingering daybreaks remain ―
Unreachable
.
ULTIMATUM
O!
You so easily bought, mightless and tarned,
trapped scabby with the loss of lust caught,
fully emptied of rights: Necessarily trashed!
You…
You! Forgotten remaining in a worn and fouled
You! Eyetiredly drowned in permanent quicksand
You tracelessly left to be helpless,
you filthy weak and meek, listen up a while!
Long enough has wished for been searched down in unwanted
while illusions has been emptied of gladness
where false found thought-worthy qualm unthought thought
and exertedly spilled its power on the pitiful needs
Only misanthropists can love what our world has become
while deprived and crushed promises been mortarized
for the weed itself has scuffled in thirst after our blood,
around, and down, at the poisoned well’s places
And few wish little more than to qualify as wretch…
It is me anyway so bitingly bitter to break
with ripped apart society’s broken
where the crippled and dizzy demand Life to crippled be
Hardly.
1 SIGFRIDSSON AS ONE (E-BOOK)
First book in English.
1 SIGFRIDSSON I KLARHET IMMA
AWAITED
Awaken in the moment mists climb the mountain
Writing three words; Not a word ―
on molten fragile leaves the winds have thrown around
I hasten there, up to, close to almond trees in its new,
refilling calm and leaving behind tears from a joyous
that will soon trickle me away fast against this world
as missed moments of beauty finds sorrows for days
Eagles and ravens follow through the valley glen
home to how Wind caresses the clouds slightly ― Home
Here ― over these chamomilestrewn tracks that meanders
on a gathered freodpath far away from the wound’s revilers
Hold me as one always awaited, present and sorely missed,
owning these memories that was worthy to be left alone
and continue to blossom sweetly here, even after my death
Shifting ―
Moving eyes between Light and the afterglow of darkness
The night has torn itself, sending lovewords to the Universe again,
kissing the stars eyes softly, tenderly, without any frailty to remain
TAKING MY BLUE AWAY FROM YOUR EYES
INITIATING.
Here all eyes begin
and take us from seeing
of sagacious similarities
home to the realities
Strewing you with thistles,
for that to be sieved is already dead
Taking my blue away from your eyes
A slab of meat left
Taking those mirrors of shallowness
Striking the laughter you gave
Duped remained your life
Taking you
off
Given you have been by the hours of light
which trickled down here through the clouds
as you were destined to among us be found,
but step by step your betrayal was nurtured
I spoke straight to the carrdrowned
where the bitterness of his grave met:
Your blanket was of a cloven glory
while Oaths gone and freely piggied
and strolled around after suckling
Now denied you cry in your sty
Eyes opening
Core falling on stone
Flower nevermore
Now the meat ends
Ripping Önd from The Path
To die right is the greatest
You have come to The Path’s end.



