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The Known vs. The Felt

I know you’re gone
and I am left alone
to carry on.

But how can you be gone
when you take shape
time and again
within my head?

Do you live on
within the neurons
of my brain?

Do you have shape
that could be seen
on a brain scan?

Did you not die
but simply transition
to another form of life?

A dull response
passed along
the neural networks –
determined to carry on?

I know you’re there
knocking on my skull
from within
time and again –

It’s just that I don’t know
if you are aware
that you’re there
anymore.

And so I’d better try
to let you go
anyway.

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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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A Tale of Modern Paganism

There were days when the paganism of her ancestors came back to life inside her.
There were days when the cherry wine was a welcome friend.
But there were also days when it didn’t work as well as it ought to.
There were days when she didn’t need it at all – where she was one with the world around her, one with the permeating universal energy and felt the breath of the Universe itself in the wind and heard its voice in the rustling leaves, and let her body dissolve happily into the fabric it was a part of.
On those days she didn’t need the cherry wine.
But then there were other days.

Continue reading A Tale of Modern Paganism

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A Woman’s Story

The stomach got in our way, so to speak. This grotesque inflation. I couldn’t look at it. I felt my own stomach twist and turn. I couldn’t look at it.
She hugged me tightly as if nothing had happened and chirped happily.
“Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you since graduation. Where are you living now? Oh, you must come and visit me one of these days now you’re in town anyway – do come! I haven’t seen you since… Oh, we have so much to talk about!”

Continue reading A Woman’s Story

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Lysene på vandet

Jeg følger i deres kølvand –
søger deres hemmeligheder
mens jeg skjuler mine egne.
De lys derude kalder –
de kalder gennem tågen –
deres flakken afspejler
mit flyvske, urolige
hjertes ubestandige slag.
Jeg føler at de taler til mig.
Jeg føler at de er der.
Jeg vil ikke tro at de
er solens første, spæde stråler
der glitrer gennem tågen
der som en tyk dyne
svøber sig om båden –
nej,
der er nogen derude
som vil mig noget…
som vil mig…
Jeg følger efter,
lader båden drive
i den ikke-eksisterende brise
der ikke vil komme til min redning –
tågens tæthed gør det svært
at trække vejret –
stilheden
ringer for mine øren –
her et lys,
der et lys…
Jeg spejder.
Morgenen er dårligt begyndt
men noget er igangsat;
noget har taget forskud på dagen
eller
besluttet sig for
at forlænge natten –
for min skyld er det fint
hvis natten aldrig slutter;
jeg ønsker ikke at vågne –
jeg rækker armene ud
i det kolde, klamme mørke;
i den kvælende dis;
find mig!

Båden driver;
hjerteslaget runger
i takt med vandets skvulpen
i stilheden –
men lysene er der endnu
og mine øjne suger dem til sig –
er de liv eller død
er lige meget –
de er til…
Er de til?

Fjorden giver og fjorden tager –
med ét slår en døsig solstråle
tåge-gardinet til side
og blænder mig i døsig forundring.
Hvem er du?
Hvad laver du herude?
Jeg glipper med øjnene og spejder –
kun dette ene lys er tilbage.
De dunkle blink er sunket i dybet,
gledet bort i sikkerhed
for dagens komme.
Kun JEG er her endnu –
ikke i selskab med et længselsfuldt spøgelse,
ikke indhyllet i omklamrende dis,
ikke efterstræbt af bundens skibsvrag
eller et revs grådige slikken sig om munden –
ikke gået på grund,
stadig flydende –
men alene.

Og alt for
levende
til at forstå
hvad jeg så.

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Jeg kunne drukne i de dér øjne

Jeg kunne drukne i de dér øjne
der brænder sig ind i min sjæl
og suger al kraft ud af mig
mens jeg hjælpeløs plasker omkring
i deres lyse malstrøm.

Mere blå end himlen –
mere blå end havet –
blå som is gennemskinnet
af Nordens kolde sol.

Din sjæl kalder på min
fra deres bundløse dybder,
og der er varme i deres
tilsyneladende kulde –
mit åndedræt stopper
for at besvare deres kalden.

Du suger livet ud af mig
med de øjne –
jeg gisper efter luft
som en fisk på land
mens det fine netværk af rynker
der som en mosaik
omkranser deres dybder
meddeler mig
din medviden.

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Til nogen

Du suger varme fra mig –
varme jeg har brug for –
du er en malstrøm
der opsluger mig –
de léende øjne,
den sitrende mund,
den hånd der griber efter mig –
de tanker jeg vikler omkring den.

Dit smil suger al energi,
dine øjnes skælmske smil
fortæller mig
at du ved
at du allerede er tilgivet.

Fjeldgrå hårstrå
vejer som uregerligt græs
i vinden der omslutter
os –
Isblå øjne smiler til mig;
suger al min kraft –
men en stærk hånd holdes frem
og et smil er et stående tilbud –
det bedste jeg har haft.

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Memories

My memories escape my brain
invading my surroundings
I can remember what remains
of thousands of ventures
however incomplete they are alluring anyway
do you remember too, and will you listen?
Will you stay?

Do you remember afternoons
with ice cream cones in hand?
Do you remember later on
the lights under which we danced?
Do you remember early morns
rushing out of bed?
And do you remember later on
time suddenly rushing ahead?

My memories cannot be locked
away inside a shrine
somewhere behind my eyesockets
and far less can you ween
me away from their alluring imagery
for they’re the only remains of happiness
with you – a fantasy.

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The Road Into the Wilderness

What do you know
about the road
into the wilderness –
framed by the pines
in silent lines
of endless loneliness

The road, the road
which trails its track
through miles of forest-land,
without a destination,
void of end, beginning
and of any plan

The only travelers
traversing this way
are the likes of me –
they are the ones who stray
out of the beaten track
wishing to truly BE!

And when they reach
this almost-empty road
they know what there’s to know;
the world is void,
the meaning’s gone;
there’s nothing left to know

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When It Was

When it was, it all was real,
today it is a shadow –
the lush green grass, a lonely cloud,
the daisies on the meadow –

When it was, it all was real,
but felt unreal to me –
then how much more unreal today
when I’m across the sea?

When it was, it was: It was!
Today it is a dream.
A dream that sweetens present days
with its soft, warming gleam

A welcome, numbing dream I dream
when the present seems too real;
when it was, it all was real –
today it’s just a dream.

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Sunset at Sea

On such a pleasant evening I rejoice
in the ocean’s waves’ ancient-old voice
as they their thuds against the ship let sound
amidst the vast, blue realm which us surround

These waves, these North Sea hills and vales
which I was taught to fear
from childhood days through songs and tales;
but now they seem so dear

And the beauty is quite overwhelming
as blue sky and ocean blur the horizon
so the sunset’s golden stripe, glimmering,
remains to separate them alone

How odd it seems to muse today
over this stripe of gold
that only ever points my way
with beauty manifold

As centre of the Universe I feel
when seeing this arrow point to me
with never-faltering constancy and zeal
over much-less-constant deep, blue sea

I near forget my destination
as this I observe;
and feelings of emancipation
eases quite my nerve

But even now, in the back of my mind
I know with certaintu
that the freedom and openness I find
on the sea; lives only out at sea

The coast that comes in sight
soon takes it all from me
so that the sunset’s golden light
alone will linger – in my memory

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Insel des Einzelgänger 2.

Inner Monologue: What I’d Have Liked to Say if I Could

 

I. Times Pass

Dreamy eyes, lost in the mist
of times, where did you go?
The moon is out, it’s time to dream
but something stopped the flow
of dreams, it dried out long ago.

Will it recover over time
and re-open the submerged gates
to make the waters flow
downstream to unearthly dwellings
where they used to go?

 

II. Pantanal

Pantanal –
so like my physical being,
a place where giant waterlily leaves
rise from the depths
to protect the hidden secrets
of the waters
and if you wish to know the truth
you must look deeper, look beyond
the visible self
and reach the watersource
far far away
in the mountains
where the dreams
can finally
reach into the clouds
and turn to rain
like the tears
of a being long lost
in the mist

 

III. Upstream

Now I float towards
the end of the line
of goals reached or lost
when I abandoned the flow
to swim upstream
looking for answers
to unspoken words,
for words to heal
what silence hurt
long ago
when I was composed
of nothing but mind

 

V. Hunger

I am hungry for this feeling
projected from your hands,
will you quench my thirst
with the waters in your heart –
I am addicted
to the never-ending search
for something indescribable
which I feel
in the vibe
of electricity from your eyes –
you, strange being
with questions fully unfurled
how did you manage to
enter my world?

 

VI. Sanctuary

a place for me
to rejuvenate my energy
when the load is heavy
and the world seems inane –
I find a sanctuary
from all the dreary
hidden underneath your skin
and in your healing hands
when the sands of time
grind to a halt
and all I hear
comes from within your breast;
the sound of a lonely bird
looking for its nest

 

VII. The Hidden

sometimes in dreams
I follow the stream
of your inner river
searching for its source
but I fear maybe it’s hidden
in the clouds
just like your head
where I can never reach
and thus your secrets remain
hidden to me in your
veil of shadows
and starry eyes
and yet I keep searching
for the hidden source
that you will never let me find
eventually blinded by despair
over this restless search
leading nowhere

 

VIII. In the Lee of Dreams

softly resting
in the lee of dreams
where nothing can reach
except for a thought
invisible, wrapped up
in metaphors
of beautiful things
you think you want
but truly on your mind
in the lee of dreams
you can only think
of following the stream
that leads
to a closed heart

 

IX. Dimensions

I want to rest
my hand on your chest
to sink into the dimension
where dreams seem more real
than reality
while darkness swallows
our fragile forms
and we vanish
like dew in the sun,
forgotten in bliss
on the wings of
semi-conscious sleep

 

X. Non-being

wordless
invisible and secret
urges
fill the void
of nothingness
where worlds meet
and the thin screen
of impossible dreams
is ripped apart

there is a sense
of yielding strength
in your non-being
existence

 

XI. Emerge

darkness descends
upon a soul
filled with secrets untold
retracting whenever
disturbed,
swimming to safer waters

unheard
unseen
like a creature from a dream
you emerge
from your darkness
in your search
for the lightness of being
you so greatly miss

 

XII. Blue Screens

the flame
succumbs
to the dewdrops
and a veil of mist
a smokescreen
hiding the mind
will separate
you from me
till our eyes are freed
and we can see again
just long enough
to realize
our disguise
of desires
projected
on blue screens
when the world dreams

 

XIII. Yonder

when did you
see the wonder
in the hidden
yonder
the broken
the infinite borderline
where bells can’t ring
and birds don’t sing
when the rain
falls on the soul
and the secrets
of the boldest mind
will come to light –
a lightning storm
will sweep across the empty room
of eternity –
infinity broken
open
the doors to the unseen
the unknown
in-between realities
shatter like glass
when you lift your voice
in praise
in silence

 

XIV. Ivory

“In the mirror she sees a face;
ivory carved to a perfect shape,
twin pools of swirling water
translucent, bottomless pits of melancholic
wisdom from a time long forgotten

On the heart imprinted a mark
in contrast to the exterior stark,
it clouds her eyes when waves rise
and the ivory sculpture melts
to reveal the broken dam beneath her shell

You, fragile dualistic goddess of melancholy;
stonefaced, hidden in your cloak of irony,
there’s so much hidden in your eyes
pointed down though upwards you strive
in your glittering icicle disguise.”

 

XV. Evasive

Oh, you evaded me
mysterious dream;
you lured me with your silent chant
of what might be,
but you deluded me
led me to believe
that the dream was real
and reality a dream,
and when the dream evaporated
and evaded me,
reality stunned me
and caught me with its solitude;
why did you leave me,
how could you disappear
like a black cat in the darkness –
your illusions have vanished,
are invisible to my eyes –
in your failed attempt at setting me free
you left me wounded and powerless,
dodging your shadow

 

XVI. Conclusion

“What does it matter now?
The past is fixed, it cannot be perfected anyhow.
I’m heading home through winter storms
and spring rain and the summer’s heat
and autumn’s steadily falling leaves –
whichever way I want it there’s just that one way to go;
my island is at hand and yet it’s never within reach –
I’m standing at the mainland shore and spying for my native beach,
it’s waiting for me out there, this I know;
but how to get there – how to get there after all this time?
And even if I got there I am no longer the same.
What does it matter? Nothing matters now –
before the sea that separates us we’re all bound to bow.”

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Distant One

Though you can read there is no guarantee
that you should ever seek out word from me
though I have written countless poems too
solely addressing, solely seeking you.

But if in distant reach, in other country, you
should find my words and read them through
and understand the depths in which I sought
to gather them, and unto you them brought.

And if you should feel moved, if you should know
instinctually the span of space that go
directly from my heart to yours the moment when
you read my words – you read and comprehend,

then feel my warmth in words inlaid,
the deepest depths of feelings left unsaid
laid in-between my words as codes for you
to warm yourself at when you’ve read them through.

I write to you, address you best I can,
and with no guarantee you’ll understand,
though I can’t see your face nor read your mind,
wish you can nonetheless make sense of mine.

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In Your Sleep You’re Mine

When awake you’re yours
but in your sleep you’re mine,
I steal you unbeknownst to you
with my eyes’ longing shine
when looking at your face at peace
and hoping that my presence may
cause you to dream of me
because I with you stayed

In your sleep you’re mine
and I will watch until I drift away
perhaps to join you where you went,
perhaps to wander my own way –
but as long as I stay awake
I’ll stay to watch your peaceful face
and listen to your steady breath;
you’re mine until my vision fades

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Last Night’s Dream

Last night I dreamt a dream delightful,
full of you and of your charms
as I held you in my loving arms,
you, Being, so immensely beautiful

I dreamt I saw your eyes emblazed
with happiness and care
as we affection shared,
you and I both equally amazed

And I dreamt that the ominous
winds keeping us apart
would then depart
when seeing our love, impetuous

I dreamt your crystal tears
would never fall for me
again, that we
should never have to face our fears

And I dreamt that the spacious
regions of above
opened for our love
to consume and envelop us

I dreamt there was no hindrance
to our dreams,
no means
by which I could lose your presence

I dreamt of you, sweet Muse,
your voice’s echo,
your hair’s halo,
as your passion me infused

I dreamt of nought but you
and of your soft,
gentle love
which I can only dream is true

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On Last Night’s Dream

Last night’s dream
is now a fleeting thought –
it evaded you at dawn
at sun’s first beam,
and if you aren’t careful, soon it’ll turn to nought

It remains, lingering
as a shadow in your heart –
thought less than feeling,
an impression remaining
in your subconscious, which you cannot quite call forth

Last night’s dream
was a dream; no more, no less –
now stored in memory,
fragmented, but not without esteem;
for it contained the essence of your every hope and wish

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While You Outshine the Sun

Dancing careless
through the streets
in your flower dress
with music in your voice
and summer in your eyes.

Unnoticed by your light
I stand here in the shade
while you outshine the sun.

You laugh and flirt and talk
with a promise in your walk
to every heart that you have won.

You hardly notice they are won
focused as you are on you
while you outshine the sun.

Unnoticed by your light
yet drawn towards it too
I linger in your presence
as the summer wears on –

I see each bait pass by you
on and on and on again
and envy each and every one
although they are forgotten
and discarded in a moment
by your lightness.

I see you move and move and move
and never cease a second.
I’ll follow till my legs give in
although you never see me.
I’m just the shade that needs be there
to balance out the light I see.

I’m just the shade unseen by light
behind you day and night.
Mine is the unknown love you’ve won
while you outshine the sun.

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Sonnet to Nykteri Seen in a Dream

Behind the veil you pose so gracefully
and shoot me s slight smile, Nykteri,
your gaze brings back to me a memory
of sweet-smelling flowers in a coronet,
a tiara composed of Spring’s utmost beauty,
but I fear today the flowers will be dead –
their remains blowing scattered in the wind,
let us then hope at least they are for Heaven bound
where shine they will forever in your image, mein Kind,
Nykteri – all my hope was lost and never shall be found

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Trail of Smoke

You are a trail of smoke inside my head.
Will it condense and turn to rain
which falls to cool my smoldering heart?

You are a vision pure and innocent like death –
a secret being born out of my heart and brain,
and memories don’t live, so you never can be dead.

You are the one I seek when I feel lonely,
I smell the air for signs of she who isn’t here,
I embrace the air, hoping that it will condense.

You are a trail of smoke; innocent, frail,
my heart’s longing for what isn’t here…
A trail of smoke that can’t
and likely never shall condense.

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You’re Here

It was too late when finally I realized
that for the first time in over three years
we’d been to the same place at the same time,
but without knowing the other one was there

I saw you not, I heard you not; but you were there,
I sensed you not in the bustling crowd; but you were near,
I left without having seen the object of my dreams
and thoughts of it are almost too much for me to bear

Should I now think it comforting to know that
seeing your face would just remind me of the past
so not seeing it is better, since the past is lost?
How could I find that comforting when I myself feel lost?

Lost without you, the only thing to comfort me now
is thinking that we are still united somehow –
trapped together on this planet, breathing the same air,
you’re not as near as I would like, but at least you’re here

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Nykteri 2.

I call you Nykteri
because you are by night
more than by day a sight,
a touch, intoxicating;
a whiff of your perfume,
a drink of your soft lips
and I am drunk with love
as we our cocktails sip
beneath the colourful bark of trees
endemic not to our home;
eucalyptus, cypress, tamarisk,
araucaria and yet more unknown

Nykteri, night-wine, feel the breeze
which from the ocean finds you here
and plays with your golden hair
while I, quite bothered, you, at ease
leave the bar to take a stroll
along the beach, acrpss the lava sand –
(I wish to lay you down but know I can’t) –
Nykteri – look, the cactus is in bloom;
unlike us it is here quite at home
and flourishing in heat which we
can hardly survive by day,
and therefore instead by night
venture, as now, outside
to see the barren landscape
formed long ago by volcanoes
where little grow and each plant seems a treasure;
each flower a source of endless pleasure

Nykteri – I am drunk with you,
as you say goodnight, disappear
behind your door – in there
where I can’t reach you anymore.
As I walk home in darkest night
where not a bird is heard,
with a striped cat as only company,
I feel it might be both
a blessing and a curse indeed
to love you;
nothing is ever clearly black or white
when drunk with you, Nykteri

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A Vision of Her

I know not whether dawn or sunset shone
but such a light was in the sky;
deep turquoise in the background
and clouds of saffron and vermillion,
which I could not separate from
her hair which waved in the light breeze –
her smile made all sensations cease
and merge to one sweet unity,
the sun behind the wondrous clouds
seemed to play in her opal eyes
reflecting the spectacular skies
above her head; as beautiful was she
as only visions, not reality, can be –
and yet I knew that behind this pretense
there lurks a truth destroying my defense;
however way the matter may be turned
there’s truth behind the vision, truth
exposing what it is my heart has yearned
for since my earliest time of youth:
That beauty has its earthly competition
in the green eyes of her who in my dreams
expose herself, as she did in this vision,
to show me how love makes things seem,
beyond comprehension, divine –
that kind of beauty in her shine,
although my eyes alone can see its gleam

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Girl By Window

No light brightens your face, alights your hair,
you stand in hiding in the shade –
I am relieved to see you there,
seeing you in the light, my vision could fade
when seeing your illuminated face –
I know your beauty, I don’t need to see
in detail what is hidden in my heart –
and I’d more often like to see,
as now, how you your beauty guard,
and as you look down sideways
(a pretended sign of modesty)
I don’t look at you but skywards
out of the window, feeling free

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New Poem: “Where Are My Sunsets?”

Where are my sunrises?
Where are my sunsets?
Where are my days?
An endless night
has taken their place.

Where are all my colours?
Where is all the music?
Colourless it fades.
A blurry image of a world
now passes by – abates.

Where are my sunsets?
There’s no sun to make them.
A distant globe in the sky
whose cold light retreats
is all that shines up high.

Where did you go?
Why did you go?
What of my sunsets?
How will I ever know?

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New Poem: “Hellfire”

You fired me with love, set me ablaze
In a slow-burning, everlasting craze

And then you fled, forgetting in your speed
to give me remedies against the heat

And I burned up, yet kept on burning
overcome with such deep yearning

for your eyes, your smile, your… all!
How could I so deeply fall?

Now consumed with fire, I can tell:
This love is the only existing Hell!

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New Poem: “Mimir’s Well”

Long ago,
so long ago I can’t remember
I made a deal with Mimer, the wise,
I did so willingly, not knowing
that everything comes at a price.

My eye,
my eye so precious to me
floated away, disappeared in the well –
oh, if I could go back
what different stories might there be to tell?

I drank,
I drank the water cold and clear,
satisfied with my reward, this knowledge
that I had paid such a price to receive.
But today I wish that I could just forget.

I know,
I know today what I could not
have known back then, blinded by pride:
That he who walks the fastest
doesn’t take the longest stride.

Knowledge,
oh, to desire knowledge
will never make you content,
for the more you understand
the more you will desire to comprehend.