The portrait of the enchanting beautiful Liar

Words uttered with playful passion
Someone’s life-giving medicine of compassion
Spoken word memories enraptured.

Speaking in so many different mother tongues
Alas the bond making and bond breaking ravishing
untruth untwined and entwined with the beauty of forgetfulness.

Still the blushing flowers of jealousy spread their scent.
That is the cheap overprized perfume of love’s notion,
It still sells well in the meat market of unworthy desperation.
Feeling Oh so precious?

Why is the beauty of the rest of the world left aside?
A clamor is not enough to settle down the inner commotion
A playful laughter against great luster and charisma.

Who is to say that A liar is not the unspoken reflective truth
Who can blame the beautiful enchanting liar that dared to
listen carefully and interpret the broken sounds of the inner
commotion? Create a song? Be the composer of the
unforgettable symphonic moment Oh you beautiful liar.

La traviata mon amour . . . la traviata . . . sempre libera . . .

Filosofens utopi

Svarta korpar flyger omkring
flyg iväg vad är det ni vill?

Jag har inga döda tankar
att roa er med, flyg iväg!

Vanans makt kommer bli
eran utdragna död . . .

Förvrängda verklighetsbilder.
Den mimiska kunskapen
Vanskapta tankebarn!

Hungerns förnuft har sedan länge
blivit en utdöd kliché!

Hyenor slickar spyor och gamarna äter
hyenornas avföring. De berusade artisterna
trampar på vissna rosor medan åskådarna,
likt tandlösa leprasjuka kliar och dunkar varandras
rygg. Tappar fingerspetskänslan, skapandet av dialog.

Luften är infekterad! Vad är det ni vill? Flyg iväg
låt mig få vara i tystnadens rike . . . flyg iväg . . .
I de inre monologernas rike hittar jag min like

Varför går ni omkring och stirrar varandra i ögonen?
Det räcker nu . . . Flyg iväg . . . Sträck ut vingarna och
flyg. Såhär!!!

If the shoe doesn’t fit . . . Hurl it!

. . . and walk barefoot towards unknown destinations . . .




What good will it do
When everything is overdue
Well. Don’t overthink, is a good advice
You don’t have to say it twice

Yesterday night Morpheus took me in his arms
fairies sang me a lullaby and in the morning; Death
opened my eyelids with his middle finger, woke me up
singing: “Wham! Wake me up before you go go”
Are you flipping kidding me!? I muttered to myself angstfully
and yawned, hugged my pillow and snorted, the alarm clock rang

The sun is visibly shining today
Gray clouds tattered and swift
and I am still breathing so make another wish
The everyday struggle has barely began