The State of Sweden

Like it is not easy to know

I opened my eyes

And realize that the man

That I used to know

Had killed himself

Half a year ago

He had a son

That played harmonica

At his funeral

All his friends and foes

Wrote how sorry

They were

And that his suicide

And that it had left a scar

I once met him in a bar

He told me how his life

Had turned sour

Losing control

And the right to see his son

Not even speak on the phone

Attachment is for fouls

They will easy take away

Their pray and your

Beloved whatever

I know that if I care

To much

My soul will be touched

When they take my children


Black 19th

This is the darkest day of the year

No hope should remain

After this or that

Everything dies today

Everything is reborn tomorrow

In this mad vortex

Let me be in peace

Let me be in happiness

Let me be in water

In the Valley of Darkness

Life in all its variety

Is a prisma of suffering

In one way or the other

Trying to go

When its as darkest

So I don’t need

To feel any hope

When the light






Life feels like a cave

Dark creatures climbing

On green walls filled

With moisture

A lot of life and in the same

Time no life at all

It is wet and cold here

And the silence is so


Everything is pointed

To annihilation

The hope is long gone

Your choice is how to die

Quick death or the long way

Of aging into obliteration

Hard Home

Monday is the worst of days

And this day when the sun

Don’t shine

Will not be remembered

If possible

To start the week

Without any hope

Just a lot rooms to clean

Bills to pay

Makes me want to go away

Watching the cars passing by

On the highway

Falling Down To Reality

Meeting the unknown

Outside the bounds

Of reality and rationality

Outside myself

When I is more than me

When I is not me

Above myself

Inside myself but still not settled

After this

I fell down to reality

Woke up in a bar

Like some drunk foul

In a poem by a Sufi mystic

Living in his lonely desert

Like me