I AM (POETRY)
I have this new collection of poetry to be published that I have dragged on for years now. It is far from my top-priority and I tend to get lazy and not finding creativity worthwhile anymore. Any ambitions with my poetry that I had in the past is long gone. So, I picked this photo. I might have some better photos, but my name on top and the title under seem to fit in well on this. Is it good enough or to grainy?
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.
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.
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.
https://www.poeter.se/Las+Text?textId=1788105
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)
(Väntan räckte mig inte fram, forna fränder,
till läkningen, nycklarna hamnade minnets hav,
ty Tidens brännhög är buren facklad i stilla grav)
Lever blott i mina Höstlöv, vattendrag och moln,
som en kysst skörd draget av längtans tystnade löften,
som ett ovilligt tigget, (hårt nattblommat och slitet)
Skogen solstrimmade (drömd i livets vindsnara),
medan regnet lutade i långsamma, tvekande steg
(Ser tinandet, hektiskt droppande under Vårsolens makt)
I stenlä kommer snart violerna ställas hägnade här igen
och blekna, (sedan skyggt slokna under nattsträckorna)
(Nog om det.)
Stegade upp en dagsled och hann bli vacker med skymningen
och när sedan regnet varsamt somnade trött intill gryningen
nedan räfsande skogstopparna under de gråspräckta skyarna
åsågs Vårmarken hemvända till att kargt (och sakta) dricka tö
Blickade milsvida omkring över halvt snöfläckade kullarna
där fårade åkrar stod stilla likt frysta, stannade havsvågor,
medan Vindarna slog, tog fart från fyra sidor, sen plötsligt!:
I precis rätt stund bryter sig strålar av Solen in över trakten
Vårljuva ljuset tändes följsamt (värmde i fjolårsgräset)
och små skuggor bläddrade sig kvickt över bäck och å
Har ögonsmekt barrbäddade markers allra fagraste dagar
innan nattliga sjöröken stigit runt mjukaste skogsskuggor
Nedan regngranars droppande hälsat synen blygaste blom,
tillsammans med regnen slitits ner med brustnaste grenar
Tåliga grödan på rara skogstegar, var kvar.
Tidigt, redan innan dagen märkt mig igen,
kommer det första såret drivet ur mullen
och talar kyligt, i svala, ljusbrutna natten:
*
Är vindsläckta ljusen,
käraste sorgvännen du mött,
de kvarlämnade spåren i sankmarken
*
Det andra såret, är om nödvärnen stöpt,
övernärt Alltets hopplöst köldslagna famn
och har snart förbrukat all min sårbarhet,
når in till Tiden och vaknar ständigt krökt:
*
Sorgen har spelat för länge på eget bräde
med Livet upplagt vara ett flyktigt intet
(Gömda skeenden rotslagna i förskott
räcker hit själva Ödet ställt fullskrivet)
Sista flagorna av ömket skrapas ner
Köldens grepp har snart vridits rätt
*
Där, över tigande dunklet
och skälvande ljusfladdret
stiger en skimran: Klarhet,
Hemmet till det sista såret
Originally published 17/2-14 on: http://thesolsticewell.com/
(Slightly altered for your reading pleasures.)
I am extremely pro-psychiatry. But, not in the state it is in today. Consequently, pro-psychiatry today really is spelled out as being anti-psychiatry.
In a society that truly is completely warped and where only the really sick are able to function without any real problems and real emotions, then dare to call themselves “normal”, then there is a bigger problem than most now wish to imagine. I am well aware of that there is a good standing ground for a few psychiatric diagnoses and that psychiatry still is in its infancy, but…
Several years ago I spent about a year studying psychiatry closely and I wrote some articles that I will keep to myself. How tiring it was to look into and witness the hopelessness inside this “science” that never has cured anyone. The cure is? Anyway, granted be that if you are born with a defect mind then that can never really be “fixed”. So, we have to follow theories then, and follow all the new scientific reports that change every year like clockwork in a book of contemporary lies. Society is never at fault and can never admit any guilt for building a system that is actually against a healthy society.
Well, surely there are a few individuals inside this work that have a need to feel they have control over other people as that would mean they are better on the inside, proven with that they are on the outside looking in. Classification, or labelling if you wish, may work well in music where you can say that this sounds like this and that labelling that someone made up before. This is something quite different we are looking at here and it is not as easily determinable as perhaps cancer or a common cold would be.
There is no real authority to be found in psychiatry yet, and I for one really wish it one day to become authoritative. The many stories of psychiatrists and their employees using their petty power to hurt “patients” they dislike for some reason or another is just “the tip of the iceberg”. Crimes are committed today in every living moment inside psychiatry and fabrication means nothing in these circles while they cover up their dirty tracks. And in the now; these “psychiatrists” will guard their own sect by repeating “information” that they follow as it would be facts from the patients journals and carefully follow the latest trends like dumb sheep speaking amongst and to themselves in a mirror. As I do right now, complaining about their work, is of course highly narcissistic and reveals that I would have some kind of “disorder”. Well, if you give anyone five minutes of time and your eyes are quick to judge everything as negative and beneath you; then you might be where the issues really are.
Or, maybe most people are not capable of understanding other people. Especially after knowing that they rarely can make any claim to even understand themselves. The great pretenders roam the society and are clueless, still laughing at ten or five years, or was it days ago when they believed this and that… Homosexuality was voted out as being a mental health diagnose. It cannot be treated any different than schizophrenia or cerebral pares if we are looking at real disorders and not what the controlled media brainwashes people to behave like. The real mental health issues are forced under a “taboo” and I care about these controlled trends and fashions in society, especially the deadly ones. It is not amusing at all that their sect language is used to protect the fact that they really know close to nothing about the mind and how it really functions. Be it for “political reasons” or ignorance of reincarnation and many other things. Without understanding that people have very different heritages in them that they cannot possibly understand if they are not sharing the same blood is a big issue here. Fact stays: They know very little about the mind as it is more different in different people than they now will acknowledge, and if not having the more complete picture of humanity to work with; it will all be useless.
Anyone dumb enough to believe that what is presented as new science every year will change into a new absolute current truth that we all have to learn and live by until the next current truth appears must truly be pitied, at least if they don’t acknowledge that they are following plausible theories. Present day scientists must produce results with their research or they will have no income, so most of it is made up and second guessing back and forth, leaving out facts that doesn’t serve the politics they’re working for. On who’s expense is this? We, the people.
The large majority of the psychiatrists is not worthy to be psychiatrists and should never have been able to graduate and swear their oath to Apollon in a healthy and real society.
Also try to remember the insane lie that: “All people have diagnoses”. We are all completely warped and that is the “normality” sold everywhere as a catchphrase. It makes us all so equal, doesn’t it? Fashion comes in so many shapes and forms these days that any truth is non-existent; this in a world where most are trained to not care at all… No wonder that so many seek diagnoses for their identity to feed off and give blame to. Grow up. All of you.
How come that I have any interest in psychiatry?, you might ask. I foresee a New Time where there will be severe issues with identity, guilt and broken people that will really need a real and helping psychiatry.
The photo? It is a shoe attached to a “woman” that I saw picking her nose while we were waiting to cross a street. She had a t-shirt that said: I like flowers my favorite are roses. She is completely normal and have nothing to do with psychiatry.
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