


Tag Archives: PHOTOGRAPHY
HARSHLY TURNED INWARDS
Have seen through life and little is left me unseen.
The Now, is since long seen, already hatched,
to its very last drop a home-birded and tired.
Time,
there presage moved gifted unexpected possibilities
in the false promises that are ripped apart inside by the miraged
while just running away from the latest cancelled occurrences…
But, still…
awoke to something unreachable and desirable in me,
as it would be a life without any words, rich with other than trash.
At long last given here entry to an Enlightened New Time;
an age where the new pen cease being so meaningless and mightless.
Wished deeds step onwards. None gets away.
Hear a last warning filled with severity.
All is altered.

HARSHLY TURNED INWARDS
ÅTERSE LIVETS HJÄRTA
Vaktar timmarnas skiften; deras byten: Mitt byte.
Dimtäckt ― UPPVÄCKT!, stiger ― lyfter sig Gryningen
snarvaket öppnad i de genomlysta skogsrummen
och hela natten saknas ― för en stund, ― igen.
(Oro biter ― en tyngd dröjer sig kvar.)
Vandrar upp Stigarnas åldrade, inbrända, årssteg,
står uppå blommande åkeröar,
lämnande mina falnande fotspår
och infångar slitna tankar ― när sagt i hjärtat klarnar, ― kvarstår:
Livets hjärta, våra hjärtan; är födda mognade.
Så återvänd, kom ni vilka lyssnat, känn kvalen renhjärtade;
på hat och glädjes villkor här tillåtet att ömt sammanfogas
med sorglösa ― kanske sorgstinna, upplysta Solens färdvägar
Är överbevisad ― när dina kårar kryper kalla, ― om du vaknar.

WORKS
AS AXE BLOW
Here is a stone-hill filled with taken away stones.
There is a leaning larder collecting in what is already eaten.
(All still as ardent as a forgotten memory of a light burned out.)
The surpassed present time is without real answers
and sowing here without harvest in a curious connection
Viet knows what Honour causes, while here now life;
last and finally is mostly for ill hidden purposes grief
IN WITH THE UNREACHABLE TO GRAB!
TAKE THE FINAL STEP!
Be a solidity with the striking-weapon; Clarity and Right,
and fill up the patience, break here down suffering!
BE THE WORLD A WITHSTANDING DELIGHT!
NOW LIVE YOURSELF FULL!
It begins.
Enter to the present time with something monumental:
TRUTH.

THE HILLSIDE SMITH SECRET
Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,
so alike a water circle offers shallowness;
sighted shortly and withheld; so moving
Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.
Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.
Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.
Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,
unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.
Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.
Relief comes when Life again will be enough.
Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.
Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily
and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,
cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness
But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;
I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.

THE UNTIMELY
Want to save this moment from escaping,
for it is irreplaceable ― irresistible ―
almost unsparingly fair ― undefiled
Calmed, by misplaced sun warmth
(the betraying), to take myself a freod filled moment
(Wholly and fully as a dumb animal who right away,
instantly forgets, when a little heat reaches to look in.)
Trees, continuing the raining, in a well-aimed loan
compounded with sighing, home to its certainty
Woods, slayed again on its leaves, on its flowers and straws,
molded to clouds and soils service in a secret
There was something well-known…
about all this helpless nuisance,
this here too barren established;
that Life become Death’s only joke
returning to soon be the lost
And while burdened steps cry away the dust of the road
the pouring rain fills an already overfilled water keg

HANGED UPON WISHED FOR BRANCH
Heaving up the trashed and torn roots
right here next to the old gallows pole hill
Dig inside my soil.
Every glance is taken like a last solidified picture;
Released with the dew-drops in a morning haze.
Autumn’s shrouded leaves flicker.
(Daylight in its rising counts itself as old annual rings
finding me in the uncertain emptied; filled with real need.)
Time continues
To willful use for the eye
meets the entrance by the edge of the woods
where soaking wet leave mounds glimmer
from the same dawn to dawn enclosed
in the greyed trees, the bluish skies
watched and awaited; Time continues.
(Juniper bushes, which stood on the slopes
treads on the longed for forest grounds
up the duskily pine-needle filled paths.)
Feel the presence.
Harshly appears the cold ways
denying cloud covered days,
which felted all my time here.
The wind hisses bodefully.
(Out-witted as an autumn-adorned branch
taken down with the now icing night-wind.)
Hear me clearly; Time continues.

AFORE BEAUTY DIES
Where fallow stayed accessible for years
gleaming in its coldest nightstones; calling
inside the forests snow-covered darkness
as night grew all its frost ready; to cling
Watching the remains sunken down in blood.
(My intensive double eyes
telling about my earlier lives,
remember now my clearest traces.)
Following my longings impossible demands,
That,
which never at any time will caress;
cutting a heart that thought too hard; My grave.
And all my beauty is now dead, as yours,
which in all of you so wrench and aggrieve
Missing me. My longing is cured.
FINDING. AM. BRED.
I am the new essence matured.
Extinguishing all my wounds suffering,
and awake, afore beauty dies, once more.

IN A TIMELESS
Wide awake.
Taking over dawning,
kicking around down in the sand ―
sighting a grey-barn stand among summers ruins
Stepping up to the ledge of a still asleep stone bridge
when a grey wagtail flee away with a quenched cry
almost unheard in our consent of silent wind-throws
(It hurts to be so greatly charged with suspicion.)
It cuts hard into my insight.
Sad to say, I am an all too easily harmed, an turned inside irascible
that been lured to train myself balanced, to hurt myself galled,
be a vulnerable and at the same time avoid hardest pain
(Being all wounds intact and lulling my fairest dream again)
Have ragged myself to come down to the others alikeness;
to obstinately be on exception as an unknown curiosity
But… One thing will lead to the last ― In to an unsolvable
(Remained left in a late set autumn, in a capricious ― In a timeless)
Finally my anguish cuts me done.
It is late.
Care not to carve in overripe wood more now.
Wide awake.




