tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33498384425062627592024-03-13T22:04:03.684+01:00junkyard poetryJunkyard Poetry
I believe in junk. You can believe in anything you want.
english/svensk/svengelsk poetry.
I want to make art fleshy again
I want women who won’t suck in their tummy
Who will sink low into the chairs and
Relax, not sit on the edge and hold their breath
Cecilia BivaldCecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-62207514911112801872011-08-19T22:52:00.004+02:002011-08-19T22:54:02.324+02:00<div>
<br /></div>Let us kill art<div>and then dissect it.</div><div>Let us bury it</div><div>and wait in vain</div><div>for the ressurection.</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-51293215597287843422011-08-17T09:40:00.000+02:002011-08-17T09:41:03.361+02:00<div>I'm making a list</div><div>of the all giant </div><div>"fuck you"s that I owe</div><div>
<br /></div><div>so here's to harmony</div><div>and piece of mind</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Here's to virtue</div><div>and love, </div><div>most devine</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Here's to balance</div><div>and a good, </div><div>productive life.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>and finally,</div><div>Karma -</div><div>You can kiss my ass</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-36249262166832606942011-08-01T13:54:00.000+02:002011-08-01T13:54:00.737+02:00<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Why</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">can't</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">more</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">than</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">one</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">heart</span>?<div>A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">chamber</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">each</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">love</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Decorate</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">it</span> in red <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">velvet</span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Decorate</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">it</span> in black <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">leather</span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><br /></span></div><div>Make up the bed with tacky heart shaped cushions</div><div>Make up the bed with silk sheets and draw the curtains</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Why</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">can't</span> I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">more</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">than</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">one</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">heart</span>?</div><div>A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">chamber</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">each</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">love</span></div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-52573014109669534842011-04-21T20:54:00.000+02:002011-04-21T20:54:00.423+02:00<div>I drink too much coffee</div><div>smoke too many cigarettes</div><div>with the taste of last nights beer</div><div>still lingering on my tongue</div><div>I keep asking what I'm doing here</div><div>but it's the only world I know</div><div>with my paint-stained,</div><div>nicotine-glided fingers</div><div>I used to think it was cool</div><div>now they're calling on the phone</div><div>and they're texting me messages</div><div>asking what I'm doing tonight</div><div>there's a new club downtown</div><div>think we should check it out</div><div>so I leave the canvas, leave the dream</div><div>and head out for my funeral</div><div>lets hope it's atleast obscene</div><div>'cause we sit in these bars,</div><div>where the beer is cheap</div><div>we talk of life and art</div><div>and try to be funny</div><div>if we can't be smart</div><div>have you seen my coffin</div><div>I've painted it in the colour of your lips</div><div>and someone tagged it on facebook</div><div>as the judas and the king</div><div>have you seen my coffin</div><div>crafted in the latest style</div><div>yeah you know it's so DIY</div><div>how can we be so broke</div><div>and still afford the beer</div><div>will we ever even do,</div><div>what we've been talking about here</div><div>another cigarette and another dream</div><div>another cup of coffee and another scheme</div><div>welcome to my funeral</div><div>atleast it's obscene</div><div><br /></div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-82281043557407955962011-04-19T20:43:00.000+02:002011-04-19T20:44:08.125+02:00<div>a fresh start</div><div>a brand new mentality</div><div>and a in-style personality</div><div>straight from wall-mart</div><div><br /></div><div>state of the art</div><div>best in show reality</div><div>everything but originality</div><div>I know it by heart</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-82721646766847446992011-03-19T10:39:00.000+01:002011-03-19T10:39:00.151+01:00<div>Do you know how ugly I am?</div><div><br /></div><div>It's the kind of ugliness</div><div>which can't be cured</div><div>by botox</div><div>by implants</div><div>suck-this-out insert-this-here</div><div>surgery</div><div><br /></div><div>If you could see how ugly I am</div><div>you'd point you finger at me at the mall</div><div>and stand there with you mouth open</div><div>If you knew</div><div>how child-scaring</div><div>freak show</div><div>ugly</div><div><br /></div><div>I am</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I love my ugliness</div><div>I cuddle up with it on dark nights</div><div>I paint the canvas with it my ugliness</div><div>mix it with in ink</div><div>to scrawl poetry</div><div>on starbuck napkins</div><div><br /></div><div>because my ugliness is my muse</div><div><br /></div><div>this skin you see is not mine</div><div>it's a thin coat of mix-it-yourself plaster </div><div>carefully painted over</div><div>my beautiful</div><div>ugliness</div><div><br /></div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-73091440753787515582011-03-18T10:36:00.002+01:002011-03-18T10:37:25.140+01:00I am the hungry hunted kind<div>I walk a hundred miles</div><div>to fall into your trap</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-24568142078136891482011-03-15T08:44:00.000+01:002011-03-15T08:45:07.821+01:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(44, 54, 53); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; ">I wish my heart didn't beat quite so fast<br />perhaps a nice slow waltz<br />and not this electro-techno-act<br /><br />I wish my fingers didn't shake<br />I wish the sedative would take<br />maybe some more tranquilizers<br />or a freelancing hypnotizer<br /><br />just bring the silence back again<br /></span>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-45649469128159756422011-02-17T13:49:00.002+01:002011-02-17T13:52:02.388+01:00Art is dead,<div>a zombie rose from it's grave</div><div>in the catacombs</div><div>of wine and professional jealousy</div><div>only the shape was the same</div><div><br /></div><div>but even with my better self</div><div>shouting in my ear</div><div>I fell in love with the circus</div><div>I fell in love with the chase</div><div><br /></div><div>I made the zombie my lover</div><div>and the canvas my grave</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-48623599174127659682011-02-11T10:27:00.002+01:002011-02-11T10:27:34.359+01:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(44, 54, 53); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; ">I never stay too long in one place<br />in case I get stuck<br />in the quicksand that is my mind<br />and in the gutter of my heart<br /><br />You never stay too long<br />In case you get trapped<br />by the hundreds of arms<br />with nooses for hands<br />that are attatched to every woman you meet<br /><br />I never stay too long<br />the morning after sex<br />a cup of coffee and I'm gone<br />you put on the tv in the background, pick up a book<br />and text-message me about time and place<br />next week</span>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-82659058074870937522011-02-11T10:26:00.001+01:002011-02-11T10:27:09.098+01:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(44, 54, 53); font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; ">I want to play<br />with your toy heart<br />I want to tear<br />the unbreakable toy apart<br />small part<br />not safe to swallow<br />stuck in your throat<br />I'll listen to you choke<br />stuck in your throat<br />you can't breathe<br />cut open your throat<br />I'll fake it real</span>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-79992068775737020492010-08-02T15:39:00.001+02:002010-08-02T15:42:05.956+02:00conversation with my depression<div>"I'm not the judge nor jury</div><div>so why babble on in a fury</div><div>a fiery speech in your defence</div><div>I'm just the hunter and you the prey</div><div>-nature intended it this way"</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-49793931510297014152010-08-01T12:50:00.002+02:002011-04-19T20:54:41.259+02:00talking about my generation<div>or tripple X and tripple ex:es</div><div>subscribing pills to outlive</div><div>the middleclass guilt</div><div>of having it to easy</div><div>the modern guilt</div><div>of being so damn sleazy</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-89741109889655527362010-08-01T12:44:00.008+02:002010-08-02T15:43:34.343+02:00<div>will you still crave her in the morning after</div><div>or be satisfied with a facebook friend</div><div>would you like a game of blind mans bluff</div><div>do you want to try for fame?</div><div><br /></div><div>the ambition is running wild in here</div><div>- a shelter for our shame</div><div>should I pretend to have forgotten</div><div>should I pretend to remember your name</div><div><br /></div><div>how do you like this face I wear</div><div>I picked it out especially for today</div><div>would you like a game of truth or dare</div><div>do you still to try for fame?</div>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-69462240324103487342010-05-11T13:51:00.002+02:002010-05-11T13:53:12.225+02:00I've been the blue sky<br />fighting through the dark clouds<br />before your eyes<br />and now I want a vacation<br />from this strife<br /><br />I've been the balance<br />you've lacked<br />and now I want to fall myself<br />right over the edge<br />of my mind<br /><br />I've been your alibi,<br />and I've sung you lullabies<br />for days, for hours at end<br />now I'm too tired<br />to get myself out of bed<br /><br />and now I hear you say<br />how do you dare not to answer my calls?<br />I demand you to be here<br />to see me through it all<br /><br />and now I hear you pray<br />how do you dare to let yourself fall?<br />what help are you,<br />when you can only crawl?Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-58130226551361039412010-04-29T10:46:00.004+02:002011-08-19T23:01:35.925+02:00it's too cold to sit here outside
<br />but I pretend the street lights is really sunshine
<br />- and who are you to tell me that I'm wrong?
<br />that the flowers are really strip club flyers
<br />and that it's just the traffic, not city birds' song
<br />
<br />it's too cold to sit here in the park
<br />but I pretend it's summer to warm my heart
<br />- and who are you to tell me that I don't belong?
<br />that the park is really the city graveyard
<br />and the bench is some poor bastard's tomb?Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-23662656948568250882010-04-29T10:46:00.001+02:002010-04-29T10:46:36.137+02:00This is where inspiration goes to die<br />we all perform the last rites<br />in between the mingling crowd<br />and the many glasses of wine<br /><br />This is a cemetery for creativity<br />and the slow death of ideas.<br />We mold ourself into black shirts and converse<br />to prove we are rebellious enough to fit in<br /><br />This is where our ambition<br />slaughters our inspiration.<br />This is what we hate to love<br />and where we strive to belong.<br /><br /><br />---<br /><br /><br />We struggle along<br />this path we claim chose us<br />when really we stumbled upontin<br />and claim to have chosen<br /><br />We huff and we puff<br />to appear almost capable<br />we huff and we puff<br />and pretend we're not exchangable<br /><br /><br />--<br /><br />Fuck all Art<br />(with a capital A)<br />snaring me<br />(and I let it)<br />to contempt myself<br />(while still proud if fitting in)<br />Fuck the fact<br />(and I guess that's Fuck and Fact<br />with a capital F)<br />that I still love T. S. EliotCecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-26695265952230263962010-04-29T10:41:00.001+02:002010-04-29T10:45:43.859+02:00I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sit</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">alone</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">here</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">this</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">room</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">socially</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">stigmatized.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">The</span> modern <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">lepers.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">The</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">left</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">over</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">smokers.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Here</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">cigarette</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">burns</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">drawn</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">their</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">patterns</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">on</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">heavy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">wooden</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">surface.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">The</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">wallpapers</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">are</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">faded</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">yellow</span> from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">age</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">tear</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">smoke.</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">What</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">life</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">does</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">gleaming</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">surface</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">have</span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Only</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">used</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45">personality</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46">only</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48">abused</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49">have</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50">integrity.</span> And so I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51">tenderly</span> offer <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53">ashes</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_54">my</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_55">lipstick</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_56">stained</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_57">cigarette</span> buds, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_58">to</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_59">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_60">room</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_61">leave</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_62">to</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_63">join</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_64">the</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_65">others.</span>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-69050997076117193402010-04-20T20:02:00.002+02:002010-04-20T20:09:38.821+02:00I built this altar<br />- it isn't very pretty<br />from scraps of wood<br />and the slaughtered coffee table.<br />With nails and screws and duct tape,<br />I put together the pieces of my beliefs<br /><br />No candles will be lit here<br />- no inscent will be burnt.<br />Only the buds of cigarettes<br />and the rings of coffee cups.<br />Only the empty beer bottles<br />and the illegible scribbled notes.<br /><br />Because this is my religion<br />- it is as unorganized as me -<br />and the gods come and go<br />through Monday morning coffee to go<br />and Friday nights drunken thoughts.<br /><br />My altar holds no idols,<br />no hidden truths<br />No virgins, no heaven,<br />- no garden of Eden.<br />Because this is my religion<br />and I worship only inspiration.Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-15990394246603375842010-04-10T14:50:00.002+02:002010-04-11T14:19:23.731+02:00smile at your brother<br />yes, go ahead, smile at one another<br />and now your jaw aches<br />and you won't get that polite smile off<br />with noting less than a chisel<br /><br />the clothes make the man<br />and Korean children probably made these clothes<br />just so that I can fake status and style<br />fake my way through these get-togethers<br />of people sizing up one another<br /><br />Jesus turned water to wine in high glasses<br />did he make these hors d'oeuvre from dust<br />or was that was god made us of?<br />it must be seeping through because we've become<br />strangely see-through<br /><br />someone put a magician on the guestlist<br />and he's been pulling some neat tricks<br />because people keep disappearing<br />off peoples phone books, as two new names<br />miraculously show up<br /><br />so smile at your brother,<br />he could mean another step up the ladder<br />ihis back could be a step up of the staircase<br />so reorganize your polite phrases<br />and smile at one anotherCecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-70263641992109593842010-02-24T15:07:00.001+01:002010-02-24T15:07:57.703+01:00it's not my revolution if you can't dance to it<br />it's not my religion if you can't drink to it<br /><br />it's not my inquisition if I'm not the head of it<br />it's not my definition if I'm not the author of it<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">it's not my life</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">if I can't live it my way</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">it's not my time</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">but I know it will be</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">it's not my mess</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I swear I didn't make it</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">this is not me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">this is just how I fake it..</span>Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-31712553564271458572010-02-21T19:09:00.001+01:002010-02-21T19:11:46.292+01:00jag är öm mellan benen<br />jag är öm i hela kroppen<br />mina kläder luktar svett<br />min hud luktar sex<br />jag är på väg hem<br />och klockan är efter tolv<br />jag måste vara askungen<br />dagen efter<br /><br /><br />jag är drottningen<br />av alla fallna disney-prinsessor<br />jag är snövit<br />men min vita tröja är fläckad av öl och luktar rök<br />jag är törnrosa<br />jag sover i hundra år<br />igenom baksmällan tills pizzabudet väcker mig<br />jag är askungen<br />dagen efterCecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-29122940373993678192010-02-12T15:56:00.001+01:002010-02-12T15:56:49.170+01:00vi lever på öl och csn<br />bröd och sokrates vin<br />våra tungor giftigare än vår färg<br />våra kroppar täckta av ärr<br />vi hyr lägenheter i andra hand<br />i bredäng, fruängen och farsta strand<br />med egon ömtåligare än glas<br />försöker vi ta oss fram utan att förtasCecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-43062171839981328852010-02-12T15:52:00.000+01:002010-02-12T15:54:23.942+01:00Dear God I hope you're doing fine<br />sipping champagne up on cloud number nine<br />I'm writing this because of a man<br />who said that you don't love me anymore<br />and I'd like to know just where we stand<br />before I go knocking on heaven's door<br /><br />He looked me in the eye and told me to repent<br />all my sins collected from birth<br />but I confess I'm not sure what he meant<br />if you did placed me on this earth<br />you must've meant me to enjoy myself<br />and to wear it in good health<br /><br />Though I must say it's rather demoralizing<br />to see the people killing in your name<br />but I don't want to sound criticizing<br />it could be that you've been framed<br />by that man who told me I'd go to hell<br />- and looking at this world, perhaps it's just as well..Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3349838442506262759.post-28511477597865296572010-02-03T18:27:00.001+01:002010-02-03T18:27:31.453+01:00Det är inte tid att älska<br />ännu inte dags att dö..<br />Det är tiden då klockan ringer<br />- det är dags att gå upp.<br />Det är måndagsmornar<br />och det sista kaffefiltret..<br /><br />Verkligheten kanske imiterar konsten<br />- men vardagen dödar den.Cecilia Bivaldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11095963618248504921noreply@blogger.com0