fredag 12 november 2010
Loveable inventiveness
To skyscrapers, submarines, art...
Humans were able to get to the moon!
Then surely I'm able to win your heart.
fredag 22 oktober 2010
Words
But what good are all words to me?
They say too little, or are such
That they tell you far too much!
'cause if I try to be too smart
They won't show a bit of heart
They will be cold and meaningless;
A fancy coat on emptiness.
But then again, if they run free
No secret will a secret be;
They will scream, and misbehave,
And tell you that it's you I crave!
Same as always
The truth is that I always do.
But the times that it pay of are few
And why should this luck change with you?
lördag 11 september 2010
Kamplös generation
Där det goda tagit vid
Med silverfat av frid
Där man sluppit att ta strid
Vi har haft det alltför lätt
Jag har alltid varit mätt;
Har man vart av mänsklig ätt
Har "likhet" varit rätt
Vi har aldrig tvingats kämpa
För tanke och idé
Trots en och annan krämpa
Har vi mest följt med.
Men jag undrar: när vi hotas
Nu när "säker" är att fotas
När att jobba är att "botas"
Och välfärden ska skrotas
Nu när jämlikhet blir sägen
Och staten blir benägen
Att ge rika bättre lägen
Är vår uppväxt blott i vägen?
För snart så är det tid,
Ja, det är snart våran tur,
Att för ideal ta strid...
Men vi vet inte hur.
Vi har alltid haft det så bra, version 2
Och i vägskälet
Mellan vad som ska ske
Och vad som förstörs
Ser vi varandra i ögonen
Ler
Och allierade
Under en blå himmel
Vandrar vi tillsammans
Mot ett gemensamt slut
För det som en gång
Kallades mänsklighet.
(För vi har alltid haft det så bra
Att vi glömt bort hur man bekämpar det dåliga)
Vi har alltid haft det så bra, version 1
På väg mot kaoset
Och avgrunden
Går vi självmant
Lockade av illusionen
Att jobb kan "skapas"
Och att lägre skatter
Gör världen
Till en bättre plats.
För vi har alltid
Haft det så bra
Att vi glömt bort
Hur man kämpar
Mot det dåliga.
Inget jag kan göra
Det är så lätt
Att sitta tyst
Och tänka
"Det finns ändå inget
Jag kan göra"
Medan världen brinner
Och allting faller
För vi vill inte bli dömda
Ens av de
Vi hatar
Ens av de
Vi inte känner
Och aldrig kommer känna.
Sedan står vi där
I askan
Och skriker
För att ingen
"Gjorde något"
Och det borde de ju
För det ska man.
(Bara inte jag
För, jag menar,
Det finns ändå inget
Jag kan göra)
måndag 6 september 2010
Bakom fasaden
Säger hej
Skrattar
Ser på världen med ett leende
Och bakom fasaden
Finns ett hav av tårar
Där mitt hopp drunknar.
tisdag 24 augusti 2010
The fundamentalist's argument
I hear you try talk sense to me
Saying "That thing cannot be
And if it is you cannot know
Your base of evidence's to low!"
But I stare blankly, listen not
Because in hell I know you'll rot
At all your words a sigh I heave:
You are correct, but I believe!
And if you say "But so do I!
Just something else!" I answer "Why?"
'cause arguments apply to you
But not to me; they never do.
It doesn't matter what you say;
It can't be true if you don't pray.
You can't be right, and never can;
You don't believe in Magic Man.
måndag 23 augusti 2010
On reasons for living
To find my room is flooded bright
At such mornings, my soul dies;
If all is well, why should I fight?
måndag 16 augusti 2010
Wondering
Friendship.
It's what we have
So much
So little
And I'm over
What never was
What almost were
What could not be
At least in theory.
So why is it
That when I close my eyes
Hide inside
And touch the air
It is you
I think of?
lördag 10 juli 2010
Nonsense poem
Insuficient gasoline druid
None of us can understand
The dreamy eye of pinecone brand.
You start out by using limes
Some seconds later; seven dimes
In this case, like other times,
A nonsense poem of random rhymes.
måndag 7 juni 2010
Sleepless
A weave of satin, not a seam
I promise to try to be there
In the darkness of the night
Though hour late, no sleep in sight
I wonder: Do you even care?
lördag 5 juni 2010
For me
But you know, the sun's shining,
Your focus is all wrong
For fuck's sake, stop whining!
Bortkopplad
Nej, men uppgiven
För allt jag väntar på
Är inte ens
"Älskar"
Men kanske
"Saknar"
Fast egentligen bara
"Hej"
fredag 4 juni 2010
Can't help
I long for you and go insane
But as I walk down Lover's Lane
I can't help fearing
It's all in vain.
onsdag 2 juni 2010
Jag vill skriva till dig
Blir allt mer desperata
I väntan på din uppmärksamhet
Och jag önskar
Att det var enklare.
torsdag 20 maj 2010
Time: 2 AM. Location: Bedroom floor. Feeling: Illogical panic
The pain is instant, and I almost immediately fall to the floor to enter the foetal position. My chest feels as if it's burning, a sharp, continuing sting gripping my solar plexus. Is this it? The end? A few months of longing, a couple of meetings and then we are no longer? If "we" ever were, that is, because our relationship never really fulfilled the definitions. You liked me, and I know I loved you, love you, but we never were boyfriend and girlfriend. Something always got in the way; the university, a job interview, work, Christmas, travel… Time never came to follow my heart, and you never seemed sure on what your heart wanted. And now… Are we out of chances?
A couple of tears run down my cheek as I hyperventilate on the floor. My soul screams, even though I know that for now it's all a matter of interpretation. You didn't say "love", nor did you say that you kissed someone. You did not use the word romantic; I am the one that read that into your poetic description. All you did was writing about a situation, and dedicate it to a couple of initials. Followed by a heart, that is true, but it could be a friend… This is, at least, how I rationalize.
Truth is, it wouldn't surprise me if you found someone else. I am not that interesting, not that attractive. Our situation is far from perfect, and you never said you really wanted me. I myself did not know what I wanted until less than two months ago, and didn't know I wanted it this bad until now. You always said you weren't sure.
My heart races and I try to calm down. It's somewhat successful; at least I've stopped shaking. The initial panic is subsiding, and I evaluate my chances of getting off the floor. I decide to stay here, for the moment.
If something has happened, I expect you to tell me quite soon. I deserve that much. If nothing has happened, if my fear of loss has led me to misinterpret, then that too will eventually be apparent. Either way, I've learned that I don't want to lose you. That when I wake up, I want you there beside me. Perhaps that realization scares me even more than the thought of you finding someone else.
I am calmer now, and slowly I sit up. I look into the darkness, and in it I see a faint reflection of what I've been. I know something has changed, can feel it in the same area of my chest as where the residue of pain still lingers. I don't know what. The future, or perhaps it is the past, surrounds me, trying to whisper hints in my ear. I listen, but do not understand. As I rise, as I think about you, it grows louder but not clearer, and I know but one thing:
Your words hold the key.
Återfödelse
Och först nu inser jag
Hur sikten har skymts
Men det är okej
För världen glänser
Och en flamma av känslor
Flödar fram
Utan något mål
Men med sol
(Eller tårar)
I sikte.
Vånda
Blir vissa känslor
Klarare
Som för att säga
"Vi fanns alltid här
Men nu
När någonting
Kanske
Gått förlorat
Tänker vi inte längre
Gömma oss"
Och så hoppar de fram,
Kramas,
Och skrattar åt
Min rädsla.
Initialer
Av en dikt
Och mitt hjärta
Bryter sina väggar
I takt med ventileringen
Som har prefixet
"Hyper".
Initialer
Som inte är
Mina.
onsdag 19 maj 2010
Stora ord
De stora orden
I stora bokstäver
(Som om man ropar dem)
Och kanske gör de det
För att jag vet att "nu"
Så lätt inte är
"Sedan"
Fast det är lätt att tro det
(Som någon gjorde en gång)
Men jag vill att du
(Ja, just du)
Ska känna till
Att fast jag inget säger
Så finns hos mig
Gömda i tankarna
Just de där orden
Som tar upp mer plats än andra
Och de vill sägas
Eller skrikas
Men mest av allt
Vill de viskas en morgon
Utan att tåget
"går om en timme"
Men med all tid i världen
För att vara meningsfulla.
söndag 16 maj 2010
Tågväntan
Ja, på stationen alltså,
Och väntar på det tåg
(Ditt tåg)
Som rent allmänt kallas "Tid".
Det brukar vara ganska fullbokat
Och när jag läser tabellen
Så skräms jag av insikten
Att när tåget väl når hit
Är kanske platsen
Tagen.
tisdag 4 maj 2010
Vart tog bussen vägen?
Vart tog bussen vägen?
Känn min misär;
Nyss var den här
Men nu är den blott sägen.
fredag 16 april 2010
Your Monthly Adventure, Episode 1
Se det som ett pilotavsnitt, för det är inte direkt awesome utan fungerar mer som en test för att se vad vi måste arbeta på. Lämna gärna kommentarer med konstruktiv kritik.
tisdag 13 april 2010
Possibilities
I look out my window
Into the dark city
Lit up by electric candles.
We all cry.
We all laugh.
We all miss something
Or someone.
Thinking of the world
My heart starts aching
For the possibilities
And that's when I realize...
That's who I am.
fredag 9 april 2010
Procrastination
It's something about a guy and his mate
Things must be done, and the pressure is great
So what do I do? I procrastinate.
onsdag 7 april 2010
Closer than air
The sleeper waits
And the dull flame flickers.
Once again it dies,
But in the hands of a flower,
A secret lotus,
Its glow return
And wake the dreams
Of warm flesh and skin
Closer than air.
fredag 19 mars 2010
Ett kort meddelande
Skrivkramp
I författarens plågade värld
Ty ännu saknas inspiration;
På den fronten är jag undernärd.
Jag söker i filmer, i litteratur,
Jag söker i drömmar och tankar
Men vart jag än letar så finns där en mur
Som skapar den skugga i vilken jag vankar.
Den längtan jag bär kanske aldrig blir friad
Är en tanke som slår mig ibland
Min framtid är önskad men har ej blivit siad;
Istället för böcker finns kanske blott sand.
Jag vandrar i rummet, fram och tillbaka,
Mina fötter når golvet (tramp, tramp, tramp)
I den unga drömmarens nattvaka
Skrivs dikter som svar på oönskad skrivkramp.
tisdag 16 mars 2010
Gatlyckta
Natten
Och studerar
(Genom fönstret)
En gatlyckta.
Funderar på
Att vandra under den.
(Men en gatlyckta
Har aldrig botat
Ensamhet)
fredag 12 mars 2010
Yargh yargh yargh - And a bottle of rum
Gibbery dribberish
Fibbebly slibberish
Yargh yargh yargh and a bottle of rum.
Labbedy babberish
Fabbedy dabberish
Brabbedy sabbedish
Yargh yargh yargh and a bottle of rum.
Everything gibberish
A dolphin a notafish
Pancakes a tasty dish
Yargh yargh yargh
(And a bottle of rum)
Sanning
Nattfilosofi
Bortom allt finns inget
Men det vet inte vi
Vinden i mitt sinne
Tankedrifteri
Ett kosmos byggt av tomhet
Men det vet inte vi
Sanningen är evig
Men livet hyckleri
Och vår värld här
Är som den är
Men det
Vet inte
Vi.
tisdag 23 februari 2010
Kaleidoscope
Of ignorant hope
That life will be more
Than this constant bore
That the dreams that are mine
won't fall or decline
But be raised to the skies
and crush all the lies
I wish that my dreams
Won't rip by the seams
Like the ones of (let's say)
Mr. Dorian Gray
Or perhaps even better
I'd evade the dark feather
And find me a haven
From the bird in "The Raven"
I'm afraid to subside
To my own Mr. Hyde
I'm too scared to let go;
The future scares me so
By an abyss I stand
In my destiny's land
And as if asleep
With closed eyes I leap.
måndag 22 februari 2010
Besjälad planet
I en större varelse
Medvetanden
Som byggstenar
I ett medvetande.
Celler
Som aldrig är medvetna
Om trädet
Katten
Människan;
Varelser
Som aldrig är medvetna
Om sambanden
De utgör.
En teori
Om en värld
Vid liv.
tisdag 9 februari 2010
Bilder
En gång
Var du bara
Några texter
Som bildade
En bild.
Det var då.
Och kanske
Var du aldrig ens lik
Den bilden,
Men jag tror
Att jag föll för den
Och jag tror att det var tur
För annars
Skulle jag kanske inte
Ha saknat
Den andra bilden
Som för mig
Är du
Idag.
fredag 5 februari 2010
tisdag 2 februari 2010
Snöflingor
Ibland ihop
Ibland isär
Två stöter samman,
Fastnar i kylan,
Och svävar vidare i vinden
Mot en oviss framtid.
Jag undrar om de landar
Tillsammans.
Kliché
Är inte alltid
Rim.
En dikt
Är inte alltid
Nyskapande.
Ibland
Är att skriva
Inte mer än klichén
I några korta ord
Och drömmen om närhet
Till någon
Som inte är här.
Jag saknar dig.
tisdag 26 januari 2010
Drömmare
Mitt liv är
Egentligen
Ganska trist
Händelselöst
”Normalt”
(Knappt ens värt
En parentes).
Min poesi är
På det stora hela
Inget att tala om
Den heller
(Inte jämfört
Med idolernas).
Sammantaget är
Jag
Rent generellt
Bara en i mängden
Av drömmare
Som tar sikte mot stjärnorna
Och som ständigt glömmer
Att raketen är byggd
Av illusioner
(Men det sägs ju
Att tankar kan flyga).
torsdag 21 januari 2010
Dagens poesi: tre Haikus som de flesta inte kommer förstå referenserna i.
Activate "Cancel"
But there can be only one;
I'm at wrong Gathering!
My ball in the hole
Is that big man serious?
It's hard to be Prince
At the mirrors edge
The cake is truly a lie
But still, it's alive.
tisdag 19 januari 2010
Lesbisk
tänkte jag och börja drömma
Men drömmen den var endast hinna
ty lesbian var denna kvinna.
"Sexuell" med "homo" först
Till vilket kön är hennes kärlek störst?
Jo hennes eget, så ack, oh nej
Klart hon ej kan älska mig.
Tjejer, flickor, kvinnor, tanter
Ja, de kan var spekulanter
Men jag som man har ingen chans
Och bäst att inse: den aldrig fanns.
Min kärlek lär gå över sen;
Den gjort det förr och gör igen
Och nästa tjej som gör mig kär
kanske inte lesbisk är.
söndag 17 januari 2010
Johnny
In the middle of a city, that will be no more closely specified than that it was big, there was a small park. And, as usual in parks in cities (especially those in American movies) there were some trees and some tables where, usually old, people played chess. By one of these tables sat a smoking, 27-years old man named Johnny.
His opponent didn't know it yet, but Johnny had as good as already won the game, and in 5 or 6 draws the other one would stand check mate. For once, Johnny almost smiled, something that did not happen often and that few liked to see. Johnny had a very ugly smile.
Because of this, and a good many other reasons, Johnny was a very lonely person, liked by nearly no one but his mother. This was no big problem to him, though; he didn't like anyone else either, even though he wished he could find a girl. He had never had a girlfriend, except for a week during high school, and that was one of his big dreams; to fins someone that he could love and that loved him back. He strongly doubted that would happen.
Johnny slowly moved his queen to E3, taking out the opponents last tower. Oh, he loved this game, almost as much as he loved target practising at the shooting range. The tactics, the thrill, the desperation in the eyes of those silly old men he played against. Every part of it made him feel alive, and he cherished all of it.
Johnny would surely have won the game, no doubt of that, if it wasn't for the thing that happened next. From a tree behind him there came a small "chip chip"-sound, and as he looked back he almost screamed. At a branch just a few meters away sat a squirrel.
No person Johnny had ever known (not that he had known many people, but still) had been able to explain why, but Johnny was desperately afraid of small mammals. This had been a problem all since the time of his childhood, a problem that had proven quite challenging, for example when going on fieldtrips, not to mention the "bring your pet to school"-day. Johnny had once, incidentally of course, wringed the neck of one of his classmates three month old rabbit, an act that had not been much appreciated, even though Johnny could swear on that it had intended to secretly murder the whole class. No one had believed him.
Anyway, this fear was very much real, and very much problematic, also in the everyday life Johnny had as a grownup. Now, with a squirrel sitting just a few meters away, he froze stone cold. That way he sat for almost a full 60 seconds, staring into the deep, black eyes of one of his worst enemies, until he finally came to his senses, draw the gun he had hidden in one of his pockets, and sent the poor, innocent and furry little fellow to animal heaven, leaving a widow and five children husband- and fatherless. Maybe this was as well, as the squirrel had been starting to show signs schizophrenia and would in a couple of years have killed his whole family. This would have been very bad, as his only daughter would eventually give birth to another daughter, which would give birth to the messiah of small animals, starting a new era of peace among creatures of all kinds except ants, as they would all have killed each other in their sixth world war long before.
As the residue of the sound that had emitted from the handgun fainted away, Johnny finally started breathing again, just to notice that his chess opponent had run away in terror. Looking around, he also discovered that all the other people had done the same, except one or two who had died in heart attack as a result of the chock. Well, easy come easy go, that was as true for life as for anything else.
Not really knowing what to do next, Johnny leaned back in the chair. In the distance he could hear the sound of police cars coming closer, and he assumed that somebody had been scared enough to make a phonecall. Well, he hadn't done anything wrong; he had just killed an ugly-as-hell devil squirrel, that couldn't be bad. Of course he knew it could, he had been in this situation before, but he didn't think it was, so why should he follow their rules?
Five minutes later four cops arrived, weapons drawn. One even had a megaphone. This was the one who raised his voice.
"Drop your gun and put your hands on your head. I repeat, drop your gun and put your hands on your head. We don't want to harm you,"
it was plain in the voice that he very much did want to harm him
"but we won't hesitate to do what is necessary. Once again, drop your weapon,"
Johnny dropped his weapon.
"and put your hands on your head."
Johnny put his hands on his head, walking into an area where he could see the police officers plainly.
"Chess, anyone?" he asked, just before they grabbed him.
Seven hours later, Johnny sat in the kitchen at his mother's home, drinking tea. She had had to bail him out from prison, as usual, and she now glanced at him with a look of both anticipation and disapproval.
"Mother, I promise that I will pay you back this time, I really do."
"Oh, you have promised that every time before. I am not sure I believe you anymore."
"But I will. I almost surely will have a job at the end of the week, the employer as good as promised me that."
Actually, Johnny had been promised that he was to have a job. Unfortunately, that job had begun Monday the week before, but as he had been all too accustomed to being unemployed he had not remembered, and therefore had not showed up until Friday. Naturally, he got fired, but he chose not to tell his mother about that, as that might mean she would stop liking him. She was the only one that even remotely did, at least that he knew of.
"Okay, if you say so. I expect you to do well."
"Yes mom, I will. I promise."
"Good."
After this they both were quiet, not knowing what to speak of next in fear of touching a subject the other wanted to avoid. There were many such subjects between them.
Suddenly his mother spoke up again.
"And I suppose you haven't met a girlfriend yet? You know, when your dad was your age he had been married to me for eight years, and you haven't yet even had a partner. You disgrace your father's memory by not following in his tracks."
"Mom, the reason he married you was that nobody else wanted him, and you only married him because of your unanswered love to his sister. And if you want me to go down the same road as him, then I suppose you want me to have one of my twin sons becoming a gangster boss who kill me because he wants the legacy?"
Chock shone through the eyes of the mother, who had not expected this sudden turn in the discussion.
"How dare you imply that I fell in love with that really good-looking hag at first sight, that all I ever wanted was to hug her, touch her hair, kiss her, make out with her, have sex with h…" Here she trailed of realizing what she was saying. Trying to smooth things over she said:
"Ok, maybe you're right. But I just don't want to see one of my sons having to age all alone. Yes, I know your brother is an evil leader of the cities underworld, and that he is trying to kill you using those blackhearted henchmen, but at least he have a wife, and a carrier."
The "wife", as the mother called it, was actually a hooker, which Reagan (that was the name of Johnnys twin brother) gave a steady pay to be with. She had tried to murder him on several occasions.
"Mom, I am not going to be like my brother. Even though people might see me as a cynical, dark and pessimistic person, completely without sympathy or anything like it, I am not evil. And I am not going to build a criminal syndicate, however much you want me to."
The mother heaved a sigh, and then they both fell quiet.
An hour later, Johnny was walking down the darkening street on his way home. He thought it had been a rather eventful day, and he felt quite content with himself, although he thought he'd stay away from chess for a while.
"Tomorrow," he said to himself "I will visit the shooting range. Maybe I will even kill a cat."
Vinkar och försvinner
Skriker
Slänger mig ut
Greppar efter orden
Meningarna som ger livet mening
Hjärtat rusar
Och det gör jag också
Ut i mörkret
Som vi kallar osäkerhet
Då det är den enda plats
Som jag någonsin känt mig hemma på
Där vänder jag mig om
Och ser tillbaka.
Det är då jag inser
Att den jag kunde varit står kvar
På andra sidan tiden
Han vinkar
Och försvinner
(som för att ge mig en vink)
Dreamkite
Penetrates me like a scythe
Through the heart with all it's might
To make it build the dreamers kite
Which Winds of Change then force to fly
Over golden fields of rye
But if the winds stop blowing, my
Kite will crash and I will die.
Ode till ett lingon
Gick jag omkring och njöt ett tag
Jag såg mig runt, då märkte jag
Något rött med runda drag.
Till storleken den var rätt nätt
Och antalet var endast ett
Den lät sig plockas ganska lätt
Det vackraste jag nånsin sett.
Det var du, min lingonvän
Och du blev första kärleken
Jag nånsin känt, ja du blev den
Som jag trots allt älskar än.
Din runda form och röda färg
Är vackrare än kopparärg
Din storhet den är som ett berg
Du föder känslor i min märg.
I solens gula gyllensken
Höll jag dig, så själsligt ren
Så fulländad i varje gen
Så vackert skön, så mäktigt len.
Och ännu än jag känner att
Du är min allra största skatt
Jag ser på dig och blir helt matt
Och ger sen upp ett glädjeskratt.
Från dig jag får båd liv och kraft
Sådant som jag aldrig haft
Men trots en hy som sidentaft
Blir du, likt andra, lingonsaft.
Första inlägget, i vilket jag kommenterar om karriärer och introducerar bloggens syfte.
Vi lever i en relativt karriärfixerad värld. Redan som barn så är en av de vanligaste frågorna vi får "Vad tänker du bli när du blir stor då?", och när vi blir äldre omvandlas detta till "Vad sysslar du med då?" eller "Vad har du för jobb?". Vi är rörmokare, affärsbiträden, målare, ekonomer, arbetslösa och chefsåklagare. Vissa av oss är studenter, men i så fall studerar vi för att bli något (och inte bara bildade: vi måste bli utbildade).
På frågan om vad jag gör svarar jag att jag pluggar, men bara för att jag tycker att det är kul. Man blir inget på att läsa idéhistoria, annat än möjligen just bildad. Och för närvarande tycker jag att det är fullt tillräckligt; jag vill egentligen inte bli något speciellt, vill inte se en framtid där jag kan förutse vad jag sysslar med 10 år framöver. Utom möjligen ett författarskap då, och det är där den här bloggen kommer in i bilden.
De som vill syssla med att teckna serier i framtiden brukar lägga upp "webcomics" som en start på sin karriär. Jag, däremot, vill syssla med skrivandet i framtiden, och tja... det här blir min "webcomic". Eller motsvarighet till det.
Det här inlägget skiljer sig från de flesta kommande, i och med att det är relativt bloggliknande. I framtiden kommer inläggen framför allt att bestå av min poesi, och sidan kommer inledningsvis att uppdateras två gånger i veckan: tisdagar och fredagar. Därtill kommer jag att försöka publicera en novell den första söndagen i varje månad.
Och ja, det var väl allt just nu, så tills vidare:
Allt gott!
//Oscar Fredhage^_^