junkyard poetry

2011-08-19T22:52:00.004+02:00

Let us kill art

and then dissect it.

Let us bury it

and wait in vain

for the ressurection.

2011-08-17T09:40:00.000+02:00

I'm making a list

of the all giant

"fuck you"s that I owe

so here's to harmony

and piece of mind

Here's to virtue

and love,

most devine

Here's to balance

and a good,

productive life.

and finally,

Karma -

You can kiss my ass

2011-08-01T13:54:00.000+02:00

Why can't I have more than one heart?

A chamber for each love

Decorate it in red velvet

Decorate it in black leather

Make up the bed with tacky heart shaped cushions

Make up the bed with silk sheets and draw the curtains

Why can't I have more than one heart?

A chamber for each love

2011-04-21T20:54:00.000+02:00

I drink too much coffee

smoke too many cigarettes

with the taste of last nights beer

still lingering on my tongue

I keep asking what I'm doing here

but it's the only world I know

with my paint-stained,

nicotine-glided fingers

I used to think it was cool

now they're calling on the phone

and they're texting me messages

asking what I'm doing tonight

there's a new club downtown

think we should check it out

so I leave the canvas, leave the dream

and head out for my funeral

lets hope it's atleast obscene

'cause we sit in these bars,

where the beer is cheap

we talk of life and art

and try to be funny

if we can't be smart

have you seen my coffin

I've painted it in the colour of your lips

and someone tagged it on facebook

as the judas and the king

have you seen my coffin

crafted in the latest style

yeah you know it's so DIY

how can we be so broke

and still afford the beer

will we ever even do,

what we've been talking about here

another cigarette and another dream

another cup of coffee and another scheme

welcome to my funeral

atleast it's obscene

2011-04-19T20:43:00.000+02:00

a fresh start

a brand new mentality

and a in-style personality

straight from wall-mart

state of the art

best in show reality

everything but originality

I know it by heart

2011-03-19T10:39:00.000+01:00

Do you know how ugly I am?

It's the kind of ugliness

which can't be cured

by botox

by implants

suck-this-out insert-this-here

surgery

If you could see how ugly I am

you'd point you finger at me at the mall

and stand there with you mouth open

If you knew

how child-scaring

freak show

ugly

I am

I love my ugliness

I cuddle up with it on dark nights

I paint the canvas with it my ugliness

mix it with in ink

to scrawl poetry

on starbuck napkins

because my ugliness is my muse

this skin you see is not mine

it's a thin coat of mix-it-yourself plaster

carefully painted over

my beautiful

ugliness

2011-03-18T10:36:00.002+01:00

I am the hungry hunted kind

I walk a hundred miles

to fall into your trap

2011-03-15T08:44:00.000+01:00

I wish my heart didn't beat quite so fast
perhaps a nice slow waltz
and not this electro-techno-act

I wish my fingers didn't shake
I wish the sedative would take
maybe some more tranquilizers
or a freelancing hypnotizer

just bring the silence back again

2011-02-17T13:49:00.002+01:00

Art is dead,

a zombie rose from it's grave

in the catacombs

of wine and professional jealousy

only the shape was the same

but even with my better self

shouting in my ear

I fell in love with the circus

I fell in love with the chase

I made the zombie my lover

and the canvas my grave

2011-02-11T10:27:00.002+01:00

I never stay too long in one place
in case I get stuck
in the quicksand that is my mind
and in the gutter of my heart

You never stay too long
In case you get trapped
by the hundreds of arms
with nooses for hands
that are attatched to every woman you meet

I never stay too long
the morning after sex
a cup of coffee and I'm gone
you put on the tv in the background, pick up a book
and text-message me about time and place
next week

2011-02-11T10:26:00.001+01:00

I want to play
with your toy heart
I want to tear
the unbreakable toy apart
small part
not safe to swallow
stuck in your throat
I'll listen to you choke
stuck in your throat
you can't breathe
cut open your throat
I'll fake it real

conversation with my depression

2010-08-02T15:39:00.001+02:00

"I'm not the judge nor jury

so why babble on in a fury

a fiery speech in your defence

I'm just the hunter and you the prey

-nature intended it this way"

2010-08-01T12:50:00.002+02:00

talking about my generation

or tripple X and tripple ex:es

subscribing pills to outlive

the middleclass guilt

of having it to easy

the modern guilt

of being so damn sleazy

2010-08-01T12:44:00.008+02:00

will you still crave her in the morning after

or be satisfied with a facebook friend

would you like a game of blind mans bluff

do you want to try for fame?

the ambition is running wild in here

- a shelter for our shame

should I pretend to have forgotten

should I pretend to remember your name

how do you like this face I wear

I picked it out especially for today

would you like a game of truth or dare

do you still to try for fame?

2010-05-11T13:51:00.002+02:00

I've been the blue sky
fighting through the dark clouds
before your eyes
and now I want a vacation
from this strife

I've been the balance
you've lacked
and now I want to fall myself
right over the edge
of my mind

I've been your alibi,
and I've sung you lullabies
for days, for hours at end
now I'm too tired
to get myself out of bed

and now I hear you say
how do you dare not to answer my calls?
I demand you to be here
to see me through it all

and now I hear you pray
how do you dare to let yourself fall?
what help are you,
when you can only crawl?

2010-04-29T10:46:00.004+02:00

it's too cold to sit here outside
but I pretend the street lights is really sunshine
- and who are you to tell me that I'm wrong?
that the flowers are really strip club flyers
and that it's just the traffic, not city birds' song

it's too cold to sit here in the park
but I pretend it's summer to warm my heart
- and who are you to tell me that I don't belong?
that the park is really the city graveyard
and the bench is some poor bastard's tomb?

2010-04-29T10:46:00.001+02:00

This is where inspiration goes to die
we all perform the last rites
in between the mingling crowd
and the many glasses of wine

This is a cemetery for creativity
and the slow death of ideas.
We mold ourself into black shirts and converse
to prove we are rebellious enough to fit in

This is where our ambition
slaughters our inspiration.
This is what we hate to love
and where we strive to belong.

---

We struggle along
this path we claim chose us
when really we stumbled upontin
and claim to have chosen

We huff and we puff
to appear almost capable
we huff and we puff
and pretend we're not exchangable

--

Fuck all Art
(with a capital A)
snaring me
(and I let it)
to contempt myself
(while still proud if fitting in)
Fuck the fact
(and I guess that's Fuck and Fact
with a capital F)
that I still love T. S. Eliot

2010-04-29T10:41:00.001+02:00

I sit alone here in this room for the socially stigmatized. The modern lepers. The left over smokers. Here, the cigarette burns have drawn their patterns on the heavy wooden surface. The wallpapers are faded and yellow from age, tear and smoke. What life does a gleaming surface have? Only the used have personality - only the abused have integrity. And so I tenderly offer my ashes, my lipstick stained cigarette buds, to the room and leave to join the others.

2010-04-20T20:02:00.002+02:00

I built this altar
- it isn't very pretty
from scraps of wood
and the slaughtered coffee table.
With nails and screws and duct tape,
I put together the pieces of my beliefs

No candles will be lit here
- no inscent will be burnt.
Only the buds of cigarettes
and the rings of coffee cups.
Only the empty beer bottles
and the illegible scribbled notes.

Because this is my religion
- it is as unorganized as me -
and the gods come and go
through Monday morning coffee to go
and Friday nights drunken thoughts.

My altar holds no idols,
no hidden truths
No virgins, no heaven,
- no garden of Eden.
Because this is my religion
and I worship only inspiration.

2010-04-10T14:50:00.002+02:00

smile at your brother
yes, go ahead, smile at one another
and now your jaw aches
and you won't get that polite smile off
with noting less than a chisel

the clothes make the man
and Korean children probably made these clothes
just so that I can fake status and style
fake my way through these get-togethers
of people sizing up one another

Jesus turned water to wine in high glasses
did he make these hors d'oeuvre from dust
or was that was god made us of?
it must be seeping through because we've become
strangely see-through

someone put a magician on the guestlist
and he's been pulling some neat tricks
because people keep disappearing
off peoples phone books, as two new names
miraculously show up

so smile at your brother,
he could mean another step up the ladder
ihis back could be a step up of the staircase
so reorganize your polite phrases
and smile at one another

2010-02-24T15:07:00.001+01:00

it's not my revolution if you can't dance to it
it's not my religion if you can't drink to it

it's not my inquisition if I'm not the head of it
it's not my definition if I'm not the author of it

it's not my life
if I can't live it my way
it's not my time
but I know it will be

it's not my mess
I swear I didn't make it
this is not me
this is just how I fake it..

2010-02-21T19:09:00.001+01:00

jag är öm mellan benen
jag är öm i hela kroppen
mina kläder luktar svett
min hud luktar sex
jag är på väg hem
och klockan är efter tolv
jag måste vara askungen
dagen efter

jag är drottningen
av alla fallna disney-prinsessor
jag är snövit
men min vita tröja är fläckad av öl och luktar rök
jag är törnrosa
jag sover i hundra år
igenom baksmällan tills pizzabudet väcker mig
jag är askungen
dagen efter

2010-02-12T15:56:00.001+01:00

vi lever på öl och csn
bröd och sokrates vin
våra tungor giftigare än vår färg
våra kroppar täckta av ärr
vi hyr lägenheter i andra hand
i bredäng, fruängen och farsta strand
med egon ömtåligare än glas
försöker vi ta oss fram utan att förtas

2010-02-12T15:52:00.000+01:00

Dear God I hope you're doing fine
sipping champagne up on cloud number nine
I'm writing this because of a man
who said that you don't love me anymore
and I'd like to know just where we stand
before I go knocking on heaven's door

He looked me in the eye and told me to repent
all my sins collected from birth
but I confess I'm not sure what he meant
if you did placed me on this earth
you must've meant me to enjoy myself
and to wear it in good health

Though I must say it's rather demoralizing
to see the people killing in your name
but I don't want to sound criticizing
it could be that you've been framed
by that man who told me I'd go to hell
- and looking at this world, perhaps it's just as well..

2010-02-03T18:27:00.001+01:00

Det är inte tid att älska
ännu inte dags att dö..
Det är tiden då klockan ringer
- det är dags att gå upp.
Det är måndagsmornar
och det sista kaffefiltret..

Verkligheten kanske imiterar konsten
- men vardagen dödar den.

2010-01-31T12:53:00.000+01:00

1.
är det odödlighet vi söker
med som desperation
för all vår frustration kan knappast få rum
i en urna från Ikea
en kista av plywood
men visst saknar maskarnas lunch
lite...

..udd

2.
odödlighet genom släkt och avkomma
odödlighet genom penslar och ord
men vad tjänar Galileo på att nu bli trodd
hur skulle Shakespeare veta
att bion har uppfunnits
och att allt har filmatiserats

det bästa sättet att inspirera efter sin död
är ändå att ens fossilerade ben
blir bränsle åt en ny generation
- men vad skulle miljön svara
på en sådan aktion?

2010-01-30T01:32:00.001+01:00

..ja vi vet at det var du som skapade oss
just därför kan du aldrig undslippa oss

.. du måste hoppas och be
att verkligheten är den du ser..

2010-01-29T22:58:00.003+01:00

Cinderella lost her panties
at the ball last night
all her beauty wanished
in the morning light
and now the damage is done
and the mascara runs
and you can't see the stars for the sun

but poetic justice has no appeal
she herself made the god
by who's altar she kneels
but none of her offerings can satify
her god always craves more sacrifice

she can never be enough
all the skin, all the flesh
and all of her blood...

välkommen

2010-01-28T11:21:00.000+01:00

hon står i dörren och hälsar mig välkommen
välkommen stig in
stig ut ur din bur
kom in
du är vuxen nu
lämna din tonårsångest bakom dig
boka tvätttid, ta hand om disken, kom nu

den lidande konstnärssjälen är passé
här finns inget mer än vad du ser
stig in stig ut
vi har möblerat om i din bur
det finns papper och journaler
det betyder inte att du är borträknad
från vardagen
det finns papper och journaler
det finns flera människor som klarar sig
det betyder inte att du är inräknad
i första laget

välkommen, välkommen
stig ut, stig in
alla andra är här, dom klarar sig
varför inte du
stig ur
ditt alternativa ekorrhjul
och din piller inklädda bur
stig in, stig ur
ta hand om tvätten, laga mat,
sätt igång nu

jag är konstnär..

2010-01-28T11:19:00.001+01:00

Uppväxt på hembränt och häxbryggd
upplärd på vernissage vin
jag är en av de villiga
en av de som vill något

jag har spridit min kropp
mer än min konst
jag är ingen slampa
jag är konstnär

jag har druckit mer stor stark
än vernissage vin
jag är inget fyllo
jag är konstnär

uppväxt på hembränt och häxbryggt
upplärd på vernissagevin
vi är alla lika alternativa
alla unika, alla lika

2010-01-19T18:58:00.001+01:00

Jag kvävde barnet
kvävde barnet i sin linda
jag kvävde henne med måsten
och en oändlig att-göra-lista

jag hängde barnet
hängde barnet i sin svepning
jag hängde henne med skuld
och gråa dagars upprepning

jag dödade barnet
jag dödade barnet

jag dödade barnet med livet

uppdatering: soundtrack courtney love

2010-01-16T18:20:00.006+01:00

to all the shouting stars
I dedicate this anthem
a badly written hymn
before we tear you limb by limb

your voices call to us
and we buy all your records
your songs they speak to us
we buy all the magazines
pin the covers on the wall
watch you raise and watch you fall

we hail all your impurity
we watch you fall into obscurity
raise you high and suck you dry
with all your diamonds, filth and fury
just stand proud and blankly deny
all your fashion crimes
before the red carpet jury

please, come here and offend
all that's pure and dull
and we'll raise up to defend
your right to be obscene
we'll make sure you're seen
everytime you come undone

...oh, all you shouting stars
we all dream of being what you are..

..................

vilken av dessa era världar
kommer att döma mig
vilken av dessa era röster
kommer att väcka mig
vilken av dessa era tankar
kommer att räcka mig
vilken av dessa era världar
kommer vägra att glömma mig

Växa - växte - växt

2010-01-12T18:22:00.002+01:00

när jag var en måndag gammal
flyttade vi till ett kedjehus
i ett område där gatorna
var döpta efter växter
någon gång på 70-talet
växte de som om de hade blivit sådda
i perfekta raka rader

det var där jag växte upp
i ett stort hus med gott om rum att växa i
systerns ärvda kläder att växa in i
jag växte på bredden
och jag växte på längden
sen växte jag inte på bredden något mer

jag växte ur lågstadiet,
växte ur mellanstadiet
sen växte mina kläder ur mig

jag växte inåtvänd,
ur min hud växte sprickorna fram
sprickan mellan den jag ville vara
och den jag var

så min pappa gav mig konst
och min mamma gav mig poesi
leonard cohen, salvador dalí..
och aldrig hörde jag dem klaga
och aldrig hörde jag dem sucka
över en dotter som växt ut och in

och jag växte in i skammen
av att inte vara lycklig i ett lyckligt liv

jag växte ur bup
växte in i vuxenpsyk
växte ur en socionom, en psykolog,
en läkare, en till psykolog

växte ur cipramil - växte in i prozac
sömntabletter, ångestdämpade medicin
långsamt växte jag in i avundsjukan
den mest ologiska önskan efter..
de vars journaler växt på förutbestämt vis

de som vikts till perfekta former av oragami
svalor, näckrosor - bipolär, borderline
så många fack att växa in i

jag växte ur killar
jag växte in i kvinnor
långsamt växte jag ur sprickorna
långsamt växte bokstäverna fram
ur raderna på min hud

jag har växt ut-och-in
jag har växt sidleds
jag har växt knölig och missformad
men jag växer

jag växer likt en skärgårdstall
ur sprickorna på ett berg

2009-12-29T13:39:00.000+01:00

Jag har kämpat i så många krig
på så många fronter
slagits i så många slag
med ekvationen: ett slag
- en dag

jag har grävt mina skyttegravar
byggt mina barrikader
tapetserat väggarna
med råd från psykologer
och bitpacksedlar
till tre sorters medicin

det blir inga fredsförhandlingar
inga hemkomna soldater
marscherar på gatorna

jag är ensam i mitt krig
soldat, civil och general
och på slagfältet
ensam kvar

inga krigshistoriker
kommer skriva om detta slag
det är bara ytterligare en dag..

2009-12-23T23:55:00.002+01:00

.
.

10112009

ljudet av knarrande sulor
på väntrumsgolv
blekgula väggar
och hänt extra från 2002

16112009

Hälfen av oss går på prozac
resten går på cipramil
men vi har stor stark och vi har vin
vi har älskarinnor och vi har knull
vi har allt som det krävs
för att få livet att gå runt

..

I came here to surreneder
yes, I came here to give in
there are many excuses for this
but not one I believe in
you see, I wasn't struck
by some lightning of love

you are not the hawk
I'm not the dove..

2009-12-23T23:52:00.001+01:00

I've slept in first class linen
and I've slept in my clothes

I've slept with people I can't name
and a few I wrote whole poems..

I've always tried to give my soul
but end up just trowing away my clothes

I've always tried to keep an open mind
atleast I keep my legs wide open all the time..

everytime I try to be true
I find my body a far easier tool

everytime I try to make it real
I prefer to have my skin, not my soul
revealed

2009-12-23T23:35:00.001+01:00

all vill vi vara
rockens självmord nummer ett
vi är barn av våran tid
lillesystrar åt generation X
men femton minuter
i rampljuset
betyder sju minter reklam

---

2009-11-17T23:01:00.000+01:00

Jag lämnar sällskapet och går med bestämda steg
bort från tomboys och jailbait-queers
bort från ftm:s och hemtryckta zines

det är sent, ja, vi kommer säkert att ses
nästa gång vi rör oss bland de som ler som oss
nästa gång vi möts bland de som förrut utstöts

tills nästa gång är jag på väg
med asfalt under converse-kopior och historian framför mig
detta är jag och världen i konstant gerillakrig

jag är förklädd här ute hos er
förklädd bland par som stirrar in i
skyltfönstret på granit

förklädd bland cyklister i kjol
under en belysning av reklamskyltar
och ett soundtrack av skateboardhjul

bara takten i mina steg förråder mig
en kod, som går rakt över gatan
där en okänd kvinna ler

det är vår kod - er hemlighet
det är inte vi som döljer
- det är ni som inte ser

detta är inte min förklädnad
- det är er

2009-11-17T22:27:00.005+01:00

all konst är fejk
ovansett hur realistiskt man målar en klocka
kommer den inte hålla en vaken på natten
med sitt tickande.

.............

Min syster har en intellektuell romans. De dricker kaffe, cola, öl, och de samtalar. Där är diskussionerna förspelet. Nyfödda insider-skämt en afrodisiaka

Jag vill ha en konstnärlig romans,
men talar man om konst blir det intellektuellt.
Det är inte en sån affär jag vill ha.
Jag vill ha Gustav Klimts guldfärg och Frida Kahlos nålar i min säng.
Nils Ferlins takt och Courtney Loves poesi mellan mina lakan.

.................

I'm butch and in the goddess I do trust
I'm femme, with a good eye to all women
I'm a punk, a motherfuckin' cunt
I'm a rocker, with change for a beer in my pocket
I'm emo, I'm the big bad homo
I'm so indie, I'm mahatma fuckin' gandhi
I'm a freak, I'm all but unique
I'm a dyke, I'm whatever you don't like
I'm a lesbian, I'm the big bad truck
and you're a pedestrian out of luck

soundtrack: poison girls - state control and rock n' roll

2009-06-30T11:29:00.000+02:00

State control and rock and roll
Are run by clever men
What they sell is selling very well
And the price is up again

you don't need the eyeliner
or the razorblade
you don't need the lipgloss
or the dark shades
you just need you
you don't need to go on a diet
you need to join in the riot
you don't even need the tattoos
you just need you

State control and rock and roll
Are run by clever men
Politics are ultra chic
And wars are in again

you don't need to feed the rich
you need to feed yourself
with attitude, you need to throw a fit
this is not the time to be a bitch
no, this is the time to be THE bitch
you don't need their aproval
you just need you

State control and rock and roll
Are run by clever men
It's all good for business
They're in the charts again - and again

women, this time you wear the boxershorts
and guys, go for the thongs and fishnet
pull your records of the internet
the rocord companies don't need your support
no you don't need to follow the latest trend
you don't need all that money to spend
you just need you

It's a vicious circle try and break loose
Break out of the trap
Get out of the noose
You know it's true but what can you do
Cos what you're feeling
Is a human being
Not this year's thing or last year's thing
This year's thing or next year's thing...
State control and rock and roll
Are run by clever men
It's all good for business!

State control and rock and roll
Are run by clever men
And anarchy is this year's thing...

soundtrack: concrete blonde - joey

2009-04-29T14:38:00.000+02:00

it's not that
I'm ungrateful
I know I'm
a handful
I want you to know, dear
this time there
is no fear

a future
wide open
a past we
must cope with

a future
open wide
a past we
must put aside

and I want you to feel
though we both bleed
there was a point to trying
there will come a point
when we're through crying

I never took you
for granted
though at first I
felt disenchanted
please forgive
my bluntness
I was on a high
of self-righteousness

and though sometimes,
I still feel bitter and blue
I'm fighting hard to see the sun
and I hope it shines on you too

so I wrote these lines for you
so that you could read inbetween
how I feel

I wrote this lines for you
so that you would know, dear
this time there is no fear

2009-04-26T11:22:00.002+02:00

I have been the crutches to a woman
who could walk well on her own
She was beating a horse
I never saw breathe or move at all

I have been digging my own grave
with my shovel of regrets and could have:s
and now my back is broken
and I'm too deep to get up

I have been worshiping the gods or nothing
up and down the streets of this town
pleanty of beer and alcohol
cigarettes and want for company

I have been praying in late night curches
and tempels in disguise
sacrificing both sanity and peace of mine
for some crutches at my hand

*******

look at me juggling
with so many personalities
I'm the arty party brat
and the beer drinking boi
I have so many clever monologues
memorized in my head
and you know
the only point to all of this
is to make you
want me to wake up in your bed
I have rehearsed so many tricks
get your hands up and applaud me
I'm the perfect drug
I'm morally appalling
come on and get your fix
show me why it should be you
to use me

*****

it's the end of another friday night
and look at how what you started ended up
there goes the girls
with holes in their pantyhoes
look at the cooky boys
wondering if they've had to much
to get it up
oh, the excitement of the 2 am buss
see the fifteen yr olds
who've not yet learnd how to play sober
look at the buisness woman
I bet she started out really proper

and if they'd try
I'm sure they could see
we're just extras in this
(or anyother) city

2009-04-16T17:01:00.002+02:00

this is the story
of use or be used
competing for the glory
of who gets the last screw

you're one big mindfuck
my soul is a whore
there's no one to suck
the poison from my soul's core

cause when all is said and done
none of us are saints or saviours
we both used and was used
(your abuse is still my favorite flavour)

2009-04-15T15:47:00.002+02:00

Det är någon som borde finnas här,
men det är med kärleken som med livet,
tillslut finns inget kvar att ta för givet.
Så säg; man lever och lär,
den som lever får se.
Ryck på axlarna
och säg; det är som det är.

Det är bara charader,
men jag kan lura mig ett tag.
Det är bara charader,
men det är livet över lag.

Bloody joke

2009-04-08T16:48:00.002+02:00

Young people must die
For the sake of the nation
let's cheer for death
In the name of liberation
Like teenage angst
In suicide frustration

I'll know what you'll say
It's all in the packeting
What you need is bigger guns
-better marketing
This time you're sure
You'll hit what you're targeting

But to claim war can be with washed is fucking sacrilege

The truth is dead
I see the children poking it with sticks
Reading the news
I can't see the forest for all the tricks
And no one knows how to defuse
The bomb you've linked to our collective fear
You're the War's marketeer
and Death's puppeteer

I wish you'd feel for yourself how napalm licks

Getting in to your porsche
You ripe what you've killed
What the hell can I do
You're all too skilled
Going after you
Is like trying to punch smoke

but as far as I am concerned

you're still the punch line to this bloodstained joke

2009-04-06T17:42:00.004+02:00

Jag saknar det fejkade jag:et.
När allt var image,
och allt var möjligt.
En ny människa varje dag,
personligheten kommer nog snart.
Verkligheten är subjektiv.
Sanningen är relativ,
och har aldrig tjänat mig bra.
Ärlighet varar inte längst.
Det bara känns så,
när glittret tvättats ur,
dras tiden ut.

2009-04-06T15:09:00.004+02:00

En öl (stor stark/spendrups?)
Ett bord,
Två block
(- ett halvfullt
- ett halvtomt.)
fyra (icke fungerande) bläckpennor,
en blyertspenna.
En (alldeles för kall) jacka
En huvtröja.
Ett par jeans (slitna).
Ett par skor
(- ett hål i en häl.)
Ett flertal (dåliga) dikter.
En öl till.

En kväll.

2009-03-29T20:37:00.001+02:00

it was a nice funeral
the flowers were pretty and walking up to the coffin
she made a scene like you wouldn't believe
it was a nice funeral
I should be burried more often

2009-03-29T20:29:00.001+02:00

mixed messages is her speciality
she ate the cake
there's nothing left to keep
she says it was all fake
but now she's lonely
and she doesn't want to be
she calls me up again
that's twice today
am I bleeding
am I looking for someone new?
is what she want to say
I think 'no pain, no gain'
and hang up the phone
look how the plants have grown
the bitterness I planted in the snow
but I've decided to be strong
and this is the time for moving on
when spring is here
a new dawn will appear.

-
did you call to have me comfort you
or to see if I felt as bad as you
did you call to pick a fight
or just to kill some time
did you call me to be kind
or to shelter me from the light
did you call to have me comfort you
or to make sure I'm worse off than you?
-

stop calling
quit stalling
it's time to go our seperate ways
I'm breaking through
I'm done with you
being done with me
is it really that hard to see?
get out of my mind
you may not like what you'll find
you made your decision
now let me move on
I'm on a one woman mission
so I've got to be strong
I no longer believe
the end of you is the end of me
so stop calling
quit stalling
it's time to go our seperate ways
besides, I'm runing out of nice things to say

2009-03-26T11:42:00.004+01:00

This is not the time for thinking
Keep busy or start sinking
Refurnish the living room
Reorganize the bookshelf
Rearange myself
Burn down our bedroom
Keep the bitterness to a minimum

This is not the time for thinking
Keep busy and start breathing

en till

2009-03-14T23:54:00.002+01:00

jag träffade ditt ex idag
på tunnelbanan på vägen hem
hon förstod och undrade hur allting var
jag sa att jag borde nog ha sett det komma
att gå från den enda till en av många

jag ringde upp mitt ex idag
efter att jag hade kommit hem
hon förstod och undrade hur allting var
sen sa hon att hon borde ha sett det komma
när hon gick från den enda till en av många

så jag ringde upp dig idag
och när du frågade hur allting var
sa jag att jag nu förstår begreppet karma
i den här världen är vi alla den enda
och för de flesta bara en av många

All of Me

2009-03-12T20:57:00.002+01:00

I gave you all of me
now I just wish you'd leave me a note
telling me it will be alright
but we'll never wake up on the other side
of this, the longest night
i can't see how life will be now
but I know from expreience
time will just keep passing by
I really wish you'd give me a call
so I can ask you all the questions
that have no answers in this world
now I'll be just another one
I know and I understand
I really held you close
and I did know you
you sat through this lesson
and now you're out of the other side
i understand, I was just another one
I know you'll find your way through
back to where it all begins again, sometime
with someone else, and I'm sure she'll understand
when you go through to the other side
of another lesson learnt
I really did know you
and I gave you all I knew

bitter version after nine:

you took all of me, all I had
and I gave it all away, everytime
I fought in all of your fights
I held you through your every darkest nights
but it wasn't enough
oh, that's just too though
guess I got in the way of your line of flight
and now all my efforts useless
I thought we were in love
but it was just hell in a fancy dress
I'm watching the fat lady sing
and the bitterness stings
as I take of the engegemant ring

uppdatering på två språk

2008-09-11T15:30:00.005+02:00

1.
it can't have been me,
she said
I was out of my mind,
totally
I was doing alright
a little wierd but just fine
how did I end up here
scars on my arms
and pills to spare

I was a cute little girl
in ponytails and a striped dress
I was a shy little girl
how can I be such a mess

don't blame it on my parents
they're nice, they're alright
don't blame it on biology
my sister is doing just fine

this can't be me,
she said
it just shouldn't be
I was a cute little girl once
without a dark cloud
hovering over me
just a shy little girl once
I garantee
missing two front teeth
and with a bruised knee

..I was doing alright
a little wierd but just fine
how did I end up here
scars on my arms
and pills to spare

2.
I drink too much coffee
smoke too many cigarettes
with the taste of last nights beer
still lingering on my tongue
I keep asking what I'm doing here
but it's the only world I know
with my paint-stained,
nicotine-glided fingers
I used to think it was cool
now they're calling on the phone
and they're texting me messages
asking what I'm doing tonight
there's a new club downtown
think we should check it out
so I leave the canvas, leave the dream
and head out for my funeral
lets hope it's atleast obscene
'cause we sit in these bars,
where the beer is cheap
we talk of life and art
and try to be funny
if we can't be smart
have you seen my coffin
I've painted it in the colour of your lips
and someone tagged it on facebook
as the judas and the king
have you seen my coffin
crafted in the latest style
yeah you know it's so DIY
how can we be so broke
and still afford the beer
will we ever even do,
what we've been talking about here
another cigarette and another dream
another cup of coffee and another scheme
welcome to my funeral
atleast it's obscene

3.
Min brorsa säger att allt går med tejp
min pappa säger latex fog

men jag vet,
att allt går
så länge jag har dig

4,
Jag letar förgäves
efter tankar värda att sägas högt
tystnaden fyller min mun
och skapar beläggningar på min tunga
inte ens presidents
nya tandborste
kan ta bort

vi möts, hejar och kramas
och jag letar förgäves
efter tankar värda att sägas högt

dina föräldrars tom

2008-06-29T12:55:00.000+02:00

bristen på dina fingrar
har dödat min kropp
vi begravde mig i vansätter
på dina föräldrars tomt

uppdatering

2008-06-29T12:53:00.004+02:00

She got a pink shirt on
the print says she's hot
she tells me I'm not
but I'm not the one
with the fingers down my throat
and unlike you
I can run in these shoes
these steel-toed boots
will walk all over you
so don't look at me
like I tipped the doorman to get in
you can swirl that guy
around your finger
for the bottle of champange
you're drinking with your friends
I'm pulling back my fifth beer
and I've got the money
to pay for myself, honey
I've paid my dues
and now it's someone elses turn
this witch won't burn

2008-06-10T16:38:00.001+02:00

passing by my old school
makes me feel old
we were the children of the revolution
buying youth coulture
on glossy magazine covers
we shaped our misfit-selves
to pass the test
how to be revolutionary
too young to be contemporary
we couldn't wait to leave home
looking for a group of our own
trying to make it into the scene
trying to join the scheme
where are you now?
I don't know how but we
made it out alright

later that day:
1.
he had a never ending supply
of new dirty jokes
you could know him a life time
and never hear him tell the same joke twice
he could drink a bottle of whiskey
and barely even slur
he lived in a house off the main road
they turned of the electricity
so he kept to the living room
he wrote a suicide note
on the back of a lottery ticket
I hope you win,
I'm crossing my fingers
how come we never knew
where he learned to tie a noose

2.
he liked to tell dirty jokes
kept a snare in his backyard
he could drink a bottle of whiskey
and barely even slur

she dressed like a humble bee
cause she liked the way they fly
you could touch your thumb with your forefinger
around her anorexic arm

my sister came home
to find me on the bed
next to empty bottles
of anti-depressants and sleeping pills

where's the womb
where such desperation arose
where's the seed
of so much pain and so little hope

the best of you

2008-05-17T14:47:00.001+02:00

why would I give you the best of me
you can have the rest of me
the best is for the people I don't know

the coolest clothes
and the funniest jokes
the sweetest smile
and the clever monolouges
I save it for the poeple I don't know

I don't want the best of you
just give me what's left of you
when you're through with people you don't know

2008-05-17T12:46:00.001+02:00

I'm to beat to go out
I'm staying home tonight
but this home is no home
and its eating up my brains
in the emptiness that follows
too many thoughts remain
the darkness can be blinding
in the brightest sun
too many scars reminding
of the times I've come undone

someone is in the stereo
singing songs of love and hate
something's crawling in my brain
killing of both trust and faith

I sit here with the records
and the music someone else wrote
my mouth is forming the words
I know will come up next
a song with no sound
like a stray in the dog-pound
I'm waiting to be put down

I'm just staying home tonight..

2008-05-13T17:56:00.001+02:00

I don't think you're cool enough
but I will hang out with you if you speak in rhymes

2008-05-13T17:40:00.001+02:00

been living of caffeine and nicotine
struggling to decide
should I imitate art
or should I imitate life
trying hard to socializa
but people are just apes
in drag disguise

2008-04-24T17:03:00.000+02:00

today I'm sitting in the sun
drinking wine left over from when my sister
tried to impress a danish girl

it's a good day

2008-04-23T12:27:00.001+02:00

I'm not nice enough to end up last.

# ?

2008-04-23T12:18:00.000+02:00

you think being alone
is for the strong minded
you are lonely
you think that makes you strong.

your rebellion
against her childish refuse to convert
is that of a three-yr-old
refusing to eat the fruits
put out on the table
to be shoved down our throats

we are blessed
the gods we invented had told us so
but the hell we created for others
is at out front door

it brings three gifts
of hate,
doubt,
and time off
in a closed psychiatric facility

you are blessed.
you are strong.
you are alone.

ugliness

2008-04-23T12:14:00.000+02:00

it was so ugly
how you left yesterday
you had to go out of town
on a crusade, a search
for your own amusement
as ugly as my half-arsed
anger, and not so original
love of self-rightiousness.
am I a woman now?
have I excelled at the strategy
of the silence treatment
am I yr woman now?
have I earnt the gift
of commoness
that will declare me queen
of the microwaves owens
and dirty dishes..
am I ugly now?

2008-03-16T15:30:00.000+01:00

no one can beat
ny cooler than thou
attitude
since nerd was made the new cool
you all look like me
in elementary school

(I'm so ahead of you)

Demands on sales

2008-03-14T19:25:00.000+01:00

There's a demand
after demands
so we've been manufacturing
must have:s
We're selling a lot
of must do, should do:s
we feel bad for you.

We're selling schedulers
to make you believe
there's time for an hour's panic
on Tuesday,
between three and four am.

rerun night

2008-03-13T02:28:00.000+01:00

My fifth beer
watching CSI reruns
Las Vegas
not that Miami crap
I'm feeling a little down
but I forgot to take my meds today
Tomorrow will be better
the sun always lights things up
and I've got plenty of projects
a painting, handmade jewelry
and that poem
about the demands
Tomorrow's always better
and it'll be at least two days
'till my next fifth beer
and maybe then
it'll be M.A.S.H instead

Industry of cool

2008-03-12T16:08:00.001+01:00

Everyone knows
every pick up line
Everyone has done
every drug known to man

Come back to the unknown side
let's try out unbroken land
I've lost my frown
loose your mind
In an industry of cool
let's be faulty produced
We can drop the vintage clothes
undrop the names
get back to curiosity again

I'll be naked for you
I'll stand in front of you
with my hanging boobs
and you can see my skin
behind the tattoos

den som blir över

2008-03-12T15:58:00.001+01:00

Jag har förlorat min takt
förlorat min ton
jag är tönten och askungen
grodan och prinssessan
jag tror att ingen ser igenom
för jag vet, att alla är för upptagna
med att sitta rätt,
är håret korrekt?
kan jag byta samtal
från hyran till världen?
ingen har tid
att se igenom
våra genomskinliga mallar
genom stilfulla
fönsterglas - glasögon
alla är så upptagna att välja lag
att ingen ser vem som blir över
alla är så upptagna att välja
alla tror att det är dom som blir över

Ugly

2008-03-12T15:52:00.000+01:00

I smell of cigaretttes
and last night's beer
not flowers and freshly washed hair
I've got perfect scars
not perfect skin
I keep fire and rage
in my womb
I drink my coffee black and strong
not your doubble latte moccachino
my poisonous tongue
could burn your skin
I'm not a virgin or a whore
not one of you skeleton bores
and all you anger junkies
you can come to me to score
I keep fire and rage
in my womb, my heart, I'm sold
this is pure. this is instant poetry.
this isn't even
spell checked.

2008-03-11T11:13:00.000+01:00

I am so weak, I can't stand on my own,
when the rage quiets down
my legs just can't walk anymore.
I am the cripple
in all your Sunday stories.
You are the merciful sister,
blessed with the virtuous of a saint

But in my dysfunctional mind
the bitterness grows
and I wait, for the rage
to fill me with strength;
to crash and burn,
one more time
to make it through
just one more night.

everyday life and another fight

2008-03-10T13:53:00.000+01:00

I guess the rain is back again,
though I really tried to see the sun.
I don't know how to live, at work
at night, I can't stand my everyday life
so I picked a fight last night
just to prove I love you
we try so hard to fight through
but all the mud and all the rain
it's like quicksand in my brain
I can't get up, keep
being pulled deeper in
into my own mind
I need you to give me a hand
but I'm too tired to scream out
and all the pain, it just
turns to bitterness, and rage
keep thinking of myself at 15
the world couldn't hold my rage
you say I've come a long way
sure feels like I've walked a thousand miles
I just want to lay down,
have some peace of mind
I must have laid in a thousand beds
by now I should have it made
and after a thousand fights
by now I should have me licked
but every day is just
a darker shade of gray
so with this bitter taste in my mind
I pick another fight
are you feeling loved now?

2008-03-02T12:40:00.001+01:00

Fresh ink smells
like ugliness
like newly formed thoughts
when too drunk to spell

..and perhaps my sunglasses
my new best accesories
can not shelter me

what's real..

2008-03-02T12:37:00.000+01:00

I don’t care much
For the truth
‘cause the truth is at it’s best
just realtive
and at it’s worse
and most common use
just another way to be lied to
I care more for what’s real
Like that smile I recieved
From across the street
From the girl who matched my
Homo-mafia pin

Junkyard Poetry

2008-02-25T17:18:00.000+01:00

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