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New Poem: “modern life floundering”

motivation flounders gone
with brain that pounds
the hours down –
a blood that boils
in veins of ash
beneath a face –
silence lurks without a trace
in crevices that time create,
existence foiled –
no trace of happiness be found
with careless people all around,
all in the mess embroiled –

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The Moth Inside

The moth inside me yearns
towards the people in the crowd
with their invisible light –
the aura of their company invisible by sight –
although each contact only causes me to burn.

Yet still I find myself
dwell on their presence by me
though from a safe, slight distance –
their presence cast the only light in sight
and so I must return – if only once again to burn.

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The Seer – The Seen

She sits alone in darkness
around her there is light
and she hears happy voices
but they are out of sight –

There’s many degrees of darkness,
there’s many shades of shade,
there’s much to be absorbed by
in the absence of the light –

A life in an eternal night –

And she is right beside you
but hidden in the shade
that neither sees the other through –

I see – I see – I see you –
I see you thinking I don’t see,
I see you thinking I miss out
on life –
And yes!, All that I do is see
since that is all I am allowed
but I am not the one who’s
missing out –
I am the only one of us who sees –

“What do you see?”
“I’d rather keep you happy
by not letting it
shine through.”

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Light Requires Darkness

I carry with me a darkness
that prevents me from taking flight,
a burden of thoughts that possess
and bars me from the light.

I thought that I should name it
to understand and will it away
but names tend to bind things
and so might make it stay…

Instead I tell myself
and the whole dispassionate world
that light requires darkness
in order to ever unfold.

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There’s Mist In the Valleys Between the Hills

There’s mist in the valleys
between the hills
and the sunset
sets it on fire.

There’s foam on the waves
rolling ashore
and breaking over
the pier.

There’s hazy birdsong
drifting down
towards us on the breeze.

There’s less than an hour
to a city
if you cannot handle such peace.

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Standing There Alone

Standing there alone
wondering
who those people are
and what they think.
Milling around me,
talking,
but the words do not
make sense.
It’s endless humming
without meaning,
and it tires me out.

From a distance
every word
sounds like a buzz
and people lose
their eyes.
Everybody looks the same
and sounds the same
and move around the same way,
and I laugh
at their concept
of individuality.

I won’t purport to know them
based on having met
or talked with them before –
there is no point,
no purpose
and no plan.

It takes so long
to get to know somebody –
it takes so much work.
You have to see them
in so many situations,
assess their feelings
and thoughts –
and, let’s be honest:
None of you
care for that much work.

So I will not approach you,
just observe
and think.
And write, perhaps,
and maybe,
if the need should strike me,
drink…

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Those Humans

You know them, those pesky two-legged creatures who constantly bother you when you try to work and just won’t respect your privacy. When you plan a trip to finally be alone with yourself in nature, they might even suddenly decide to tag along.
It is as if they think themselves the most important thing in the world, and in your life. It is as if any proof to the contrary is invisible to them.

Continue reading Those Humans

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Dystopia anno 20**

I.

It was a cold autumn day in-between late summer and the rainy season. The smell of rain was in the air, and the overcast sky already threatened with it, but it hadn’t started yet and could easily drag out for days. The buildings looked sharp in the grey light. A 3D animation printed onto the fabric of reality. Only the wind disturbed the image somewhat by ruffling the trees and sighing repeatedly. A few trees were yellow and red but most were still green and the orchard still showed the surreally red spots of forgotten, ripe apples there was nobody to pick.
And so the scene is set for the story.

Continue reading Dystopia anno 20**

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Selskab

Hver lyd der udstødes
trækker energi med sig –
min mund udtaler
min dødsdom.

Til sidst suges følelserne
ud gennem porerne
så jeg sidder tilbage
tom, summende
af andres nærvær
indtil processen vender
og mine porer suger
deres fremmede essens
ind under huden
hvor den sætter sig
som uvelkomment
sediment.

Tømt for kraft
sidder jeg blandt dem –
hvert ord smerter.

Men jeg er for tynget
af sediment
til at
kunne flytte mig.

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Snespor

Hvidt støv suser over grå asfalt
snart dækket –
hvide fnug fyger,
skjuler horisonten –
jeg går uden at efterlade spor;
jeg kunne forsvinde,
lægge mig under en hvid dyne,
sove –
men verden ville finde mig
alligevel
før eller siden –

Jeg går uden at efterlade mig spor –
sneen er min ven
der skjuler mig
og bider i mine kinder
for trods alt at minde
om min eksistens –

Når sneen ikke falder
fures den af spor –
det vil jeg ikke se –
ikke se hvordan mennesker
roder i naturen –
ikke deltage,
ikke vide,
ikke findes –
viske spor ud bag mig
ét for ét –

Når det så
bliver varmere –
det hvide tæppe efterlader
et hulmønster
på græsset,
dråber
der stille dumper ned
fra træer,
tagskæg –

Jeg er tilbage i livet,
den farlige sportid
er forbi –
nu kan jeg igen gå trygt
uden at se bag over skulderen –
nu kan man forsvinde
i menneske-fygningen –

men lyset –
men stilheden –

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Voks

Der drypper energi ud ad mine porer –
kan de ikke se det?
En klæbrig, voksagtig substans
der siver ned ad mig
og ud over gulvet.
Jeg skrumper lige så stille,
og studerer mine fingre
mens de langsomt
går i opløsning –
trækker sig baglæns ind i hånden
og siver ned ad armen –

Jeg ser mig omkring
bag voksregnen fra min pande –
har nogen set det ske?
Men de ser alle kun
på sig selv
når deres øjne ser på andre –

Og så smelter mine øjne
og jeg venter utålmodigt på
at mine tanker
– som det sidste! –
vil ophøre.

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Nej tak

Jeg ønsker ingen opmærksomhed –
jeg ønsker ingen –
hvad er det imod
at have fred
med sig selv?

Jeg ønsker ingen lys –
ingen dag –
bare det fløjlsbløde mørke
der udligner vreden
og vugger mig som havet
skønt jeg ikke kan sove –

Jeg ønsker bare stilheden
som runger for mine ører
med sin særegne musik –

Jeg ønsker bare ensomheden
fri for andres tanker
der klæber til én
som snavs
men er sværere at vaske af –

Jeg ønsker bare…
intet!
Jeg ønsker at ønske intet!

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Voluntary Isolation

There’s a glow of orange on the horizon –
a hidden city out of sight
housing countless nameless people unlike me
who don’t seek loneliness with every breath –
it’s right over there behind the trees;
right over there behind the shadow of the hill;
right over there beneath the glowing clouds
that give away its presence now to me –
and yet an endless waste away from me,
and if I went there I’d no more be me.
Protect my darkness! clouds, do not flame up
and give away my presence to the crowds;
dear sky, I’ll hide myself beneath your dome
invisible and undisclosed except for those who know me –
dear clouds, do not flame up like that;
leave me my rightful place alone;
leave me the quiet of the artist’s
peace and solitude; alone

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Inner Whirlpool

Do not fall into the whirlpool
lurking deep within my soul.
The waters there could drown you
if you were to brave the fall.
A halo will not be awarded
to the person who might fall
though prayers might be worded
from the ones who for you call.

Withdraw from infatuation
with my smile and with my eyes.
It is – I fear – deception,
do not fall for my disguise.
Beware of finding truths in halves
you may be viewing the wrong side –
the other side will look on, laughing
with excitement like a child.

Do not drown yourself in waters
that you can never tame.
For both of us it would be better
to find a safer game;
for I am lurking in the murky
waters of my inner whirlpool
and if you think that you can find me –
you would have to be a fool.

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Some Thoughts on Solitude

I live alone among
a lot of unknown people.
I live a recluse here
where others move in packs.

I think it must be so
since every path of mind
that brings people together
brings them away from me.

And so I walk among them
observing, unobserved,
their various undertakings
yet never speak a word.

I do not understand them.
They do not understand me.
It seems rather fair then
to simply let them be.

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Insel des Einzelgänger 1.

Monologue: Where I Stand Now.

“I walk alone, remember not
a time when this was not my lot;
I walk alone, my melody
the roaring of surrounding sea;
I walk alone, my song is this,
be left alone my only wish.”

“I am a loner, this is true,
supported by the rain and dew,
by wind and sea, by summer rain
that makes me sprout with this year’s grain.”

“A voice, a voice in distance heard,
it says my name; speaks dreadful words;
but should I heed it’s message, take
for granted this prophecy I hear,
or hope that none of what I fear
shall ever cause me to awake?”

THE PROPHECY:
The day shall come when you whose ship
with arrogance parts currents now
shall either be deluged or be
just swept away; revenge of the sea –
slowly perhaps, or perhaps fast
you shall be gone; you cannot last.

She walked along the street, singing,
heard nobody else speaking and heeded nobody’s greetings:

“Such a weather as today,
such a day!
All I wish is to be swept away!

My native ocean
where are you now?
Where are the waves
where do you flow?
Where is my ship (if it still is)?
Carry me off
to the horizon
where I glimpse in the far-off distance

some summits I can’t recognize.

I shall explore and I shall find.

At least I’ll try and should the wind
Impertinent carry me off
away off course

way into distant unknown lands
then what?

As long as I’m alone as long as I am free

I shall not care what I shall get to see.

Where is my ship
– it’s silver keel,
it’s silky sails
full with the wind,
let’s go tomorrow is too late,

I feel a sense of haste
I know not why,
I have to go, I have to run, I am compelled –
I know not why.”

But still she waited, slowed her speed, stood still
awaiting someone who wasn’t coming –

“I want to travel, travel far away
today,
tomorrow is too late –
but not alone,”

awaiting answer she went quiet, but no answer came

“I want to travel, travel, travel
onwards, finding
new horizons
beyond the constraints of the map
but not alone?

I need someone, someone who will
accompany my search –
I cannot go alone then I might just
as well stay here –
oh, what’s the use – when no-one cares?”

“Loneliness is
an empty hand – another hand that slips
out of your grasp,
and disappears –

Loneliness is
the distance separating hearts,
the veil that covers scars
and silence in itself –

Loneliness is
the emptiness dispersing when
two hearts are in accord,
but comes to choke you when
nobody’s there to see you –

Loneliness is
not finding reason to cry,
since no one hears or cares –
and never crying means never to care –”

“As in the grass I rested on the dike,
I never felt alone, not for a second –
I was alone, but people near,
I heard their voices, knew their presence,
so I didn’t care I was alone.

I knew when I no longer wanted solitude
I had the option to go and join their games –
not having the option makes the difference,
that’s what makes you feel alone.”

“Back on my island, proudly in the sea
protruding, stretching up to meet the sun
defying waves and tide with constancy
(seemingly), there I never felt alone.
I was a part of all, and all a part of me –
the island and the sea and me a part of all,
the sky, the sea that joined at the horizon
was all the world, and I could hear the hum
of life in every movement around me –
and all was part of me, and I was part of all
and loneliness was not an option, not a thought
that I could think – I did not know of it,
for I was all and all was me –
and all I heard the sound of sea
of wind of seabirds; quite a symphony
was played for me each day, and I was free,
alive and whole; ALONE, but never lonely.”

“But here – this cold, unfeeling place
where nature cannot show its face
and no one cries and no one cares –
the rhythm is a curse, it’s not a cure –
and loneliness the symptom of disease,
you cannot be alone, but can be lonely
among these crowds of people – that’s the irony!
No, for companion give me clouds and sea –
and give me sky and sun and rustling grass,
and when I watch the fishing boats return
I shall forget that I’m alone, and then again
I’ll just be me, a part of all and all a part of me –
an entity in its own right, facing the sea –”

“Loneliness is the eyes that wander,
never meeting yours.
Loneliness the voice that staggers
to find footing
but is never heard.
Loneliness the sound of people passing
without stopping.
Loneliness is watching people live,
but not feeling alive yourself.

Lonely –
the condition forced upon you
by yourself,
by not living the way you wish (but
not knowing what it is you wish), and
therefore slowly corroding
your happiness, by living
a life without life – loneliness
is the symptom of a disease
which disappears the instant
you are actually ALONE.”

“I left my island, left behind
the place
how unwise –

now I’m left in a no-man’s-land
marooned in crowds –

I’ve been deluded, been deceived,
I thought myself free, but in reality
I haven’t been myself since leaving home,
I want my island…

(where’s my ship gone off to?)

but now I know that I cannot return alone,
the time has passed,
and I have changed beyond bounds –
I used to be at peace
but after meeting people I
have lost trace of
my starting point, my sails are hanging down
empty of the breeze that carried me here…

my island!
how I long for you!
but can you
accept it if I bring
somebody else to see you?

my island! part of me, and I a part of all…

can I accept
the necessity
of showing you off to an outsider’s eyes,
the disbelieving, disapproving gaze
of someone unacquainted with our vows?

and who would sail with me?
who’d risk the trip aboard my ship

(if I can find it)

other than myself? who would, and why?

I never should have left my island,
never should have boarded ship,
I never should have set my sails
at any other destination,
now I have become what I’ve become
and what I am, no longer me…

can I go home – I cannot go alone –
who will accompany me on the trip…?

with what intentions, what designs –
and what transpire then when we arrive…?”

“The prophecy came true, the one
I heard of spoken as a child –
strange rumors, that I for one
not used to heed, but now…”

The prophecy came true, I didn’t know
I’d met it till too late and I was stuck,
the prophecy – the unclear wording, metaphorically
has trapped me unknowingly, and I do not know now
how to escape – for who would follow me?
My self’s been whisked away and I cannot return alone,
nor find my ship unless someone should vow to
follow me –
I am marooned in other words –
I never shall be free.”