enigma of the sound

it is just too much echo
in the voice of silence
that shouts at you
whenever it can.
just don’t give a chance,
and fight this violence
with your bare chest
and your bare hands.
i didn’t expect the lightning to strike me
but when it has already done so,
all i can do is to shun off the buttons in
this machine that bounces
whenever i recall
the lines
you attempted to kill me with
in the first place,
and they jump off in the air
like a myriad of butterflies
and puncture the thin film
that hangs
in front
of your

synkrone svev

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Painting: Rishabh Arora

du er en ensom fugl
som skaper og flyr rundt omkring,
jeg er litegrann full –
av alle de gode ting.

kunne du kalt meg med deg
når du svever i himmelen blå,
kunne jeg da elsket verden
av å kunne omdannes til tråd.

gi med noe å lengte etter
og jeg vil hoppe i lys.
sammen kan vi nok mette
alt som har vært bannlyst.

er det ømhet du føder
eller bare en drøm?
er det de unge kødder
som har frambrakt den strøm?

skyggen, den kan ikke vinne
for at den er også gavmild.
ingenting kan oss besinne
når hjertene banker så blindt.


Warm Current

A continuous passion
For the art of your sways –
When you dance with your eyes
I am there to obey.
Gentle lines
Moist lips
Handsome gestures
Dubious ventures.
Do we have a week,
a day
or two?
Will we have a squeak
or squeal
Come true?
For the air floats around you
Like a seagull flies beyond those
Who haven’t turned their heads
To look at the skies above them.


touch a feeling

The being.
Smash at the vulnerable wish.
The skin,
The steam
Conquer the body with your savory dish.
Those shiny
Of ancient
Can enter from outside the darkness.
The glorious
Where magic
Lead into merciless, weary sadness.
I do not
What sparks
My awe
I only want to have no ending.
We will be
For all
The worries
When it’s a lifetime that’s begun.


restore the daybreak

You have bewildered me
You played your part
If only I could’ve known that
You’ll tell me to depart.
No grievances, no sorrows –
A promising hot kiss.
If only I permitted
Myself to miss
In this moist
Yet lonesome autumn
To rise so high up
To only hit the bottom.
Which worlds again
I’ll meet you in?
Gods must have planned it
I’m ready to begin
Collecting tears and fears
Until at dusk,
I see your silhouette with spears
And heavens ask
If I regret a thing –
And I have only this to tell:
There is no sin on me
So don’t you cast your spells.


true benevolence

What is that exactly
That doesn’t let me rest
When a day surrenders
It is a pest
To try to get rid of all
The thoughts that do molest.
So striving at the pillow,
The lonely nest,
A cold and absurd shaddow
Of our past
Keeps thoroughly suggesting
That nothing lasts.
The beauty of your contours
will never gloom
I am your faithful child
You are my bloom.
We stand atop high mountains
For we are doomed
To drink the wine of sadness
Where love had boomed.


crossing the shine

cleansing a giant star

within your perspective of thoughts.

the words are unspoken,

i wanted to be heard.

with a wavy motion

you may release an emotion

that can fly away

on the greyest day.

whenever a cloud of magic

touches the shades of your chin

it leaves me speechless.

no need to win –

just to surrender

to your aura,

to render

away all sorrow.