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On History

The history repeat itself

Creating endless

Monotonous patterns

Eternal questions and conflicts

Are being weaved to a huge web,

A carpet covering

Our mind and thoughts

We are here because

The great ecosystem, Gaia

Has put us here

Trapped in our own limitations

Our own mind

Still this is not true, sometimes

A surprise happens and we rise

Again and again

Above ourselves

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Dual Psych

In deep mode searching

Our future

Opening up closed gates

Going through the whole process

Again and again

Like an eternal pattern

Of different stars

Another galaxy, another me

Yet the same

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Runes

Writing was once

A privilege of the few

Few words remains

Mostly carved in stone

Telling about men

That died long time ago

Few can read those

Carved letters

From another time

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Outskirts

Driving around in the outskirts of Stockholm. The snow is gone but temperature is well below zero. Discovering unknown parts of the city is way of meditation. This is old Viking country filled with burial-grounds and runestones.

This is pagan and Christian landscape at the same time, churches built on places of pagan worship, messages telling the stories of death and suffering in Russia or Turkey. A lot of fortunes were made there by Vikings being mercenaries or tradesmen.

Our barren land could not feed everyone so the bravest and most desperate left long time ago. This is not a land to be happy in. That is not the nature of Sweden. Here you work and suffers in silence until you eventually die.

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Trapped In History

Being trapped in a memory

Of a conflict with my father and

His family

Filling up my mind

Feeling betrayed and abandond

It is hard to let go

Even though I know I have to find

New grounds for living my life

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Ode To The Next Ruler

Assemble energy, power,will

Try to get

Past last years tragedies

In a snowy Stockholm

Being around negative

People that put me

Below the ground

In a pit of self pity

Never mind

This kind of torture

Is part of this shitty

Life without meaning

Or purpose

It is of course my fault

I don’t deserve to live

I don’t want to live

Kill me and use me

As a fertiliser in

Your garden so

I eventually come

To some use

Together with the other

Jews and infirm

That you put there

A while ago

And then go on

To destroy the world

Which is your purpose

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Crimes

All those books

Part of a gigantic crime

Stolen and loathed

Form Jewish families in

Germany collected and

Put on an exhibition

75 years later

Looked in time in the

Immortal memories

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Building My World

Trying to get a manual

For a good and functional

Life, Outside my small and

Secluded world

They are ruling through fear

Not terror but fear of losing

What you have and

Being part of the losing

Angry majority

Standing on the street screaming

For bread and entertainment

Still I have to build a new small world

That is working and thriving

Like the Stoics, long gone and

Still very present

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Remains

History is what remains

Things that is not here

But could have been

What is not happening

As well as what is going on

What we did not do

As well the results of what

We did a long time ago