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 May 2014 Bjørn O Holter
Jack
~

And I ~ cling to a fortress
of endless temptation
with rings made of gold
and a tree built of life

Faltering corners
in new found dimensions
a little left over
but so very nice

Clinging to them

And I ~ search in a fountain
with quarters for feelings
so far neath the waters
my song sings alone

On sea shells and posters
of rock concert heroes
with hair like a Sheppard
to call the sheep home

Calling to all

And I ~ call to the mountains
in echoes of sailors
with waves in the morning
and snowcaps at night

Floating horizons
alone on the wishes
that winds will prevail
and make everything right

Sailing again

And I ~ lean on a valley
of tree lines and saucers
with cups filled with coffee
to taste when it’s due

With smiles forever
and words down on paper
with love as my meaning
I write them ~ for you

*Please hear my call
Blood shot eyes,
drunk with regrets infused
with cheap beer,
Laughing at our own stupidity
As we fall, stumble
and pick each other up,
only to wobble again
We'll blissfully endure the
nausea
and throbbing headaches cause we've been through
much much worse,
Together.

Knowing us,
we'll probably end up on
some rooftop at 3 in the
morn,
In a drunken haze
counting the stars one by one,
confessing our well-kept
secrets,
and vomiting all the bile that
life fed us

Sure with heads spinning,
and the blurry vision
accompanied by endless
'little room' visits
we'll say
'Never again',
Only to turn it around with
another round

When misery finds us,
Don't fret
I'll hold the cracked mirror
to your face, you do the same
And we'll find humor in our imperfections
And there, we'll dance to our temporary happiness

When they dare tell us
'You're too young to be empty',
We'll look at them
Look at us
And burst into laughter
I'll be here,
through drunken nights
and sober days,
Always.
A perfect end to perfect day.  
The sun has set, is on her way
To pleasure others; never stay.
We borrow every ray.

And once again the darkness
Flows, the breeze has turned a force that
Blows the day away, each creature  
Knows: An infant thunder grows.

I went to bed to catch some sleep,
But once again the skies do weep
And here, instead of slumber deep
Awake myself I keep  

To witness such magnificence,
As lightning's dance in radiance.
It draws for me omnipotence;
It awes my every sense.

So here I lie with cat on bed
Who doesn't even raise her head
When Tor throws hammer up
Ahead. Cares only that she's fed.

Such comfort I have found I find
In Nature seeming most unkind.
And nearly dizzyingly unwind
From daytime, now behind.

My eyes turn heavy to the sound
Of power unlike any found
Within the skies or on the ground.
I'm safe, there's gods around.
My brother has fewer
Vices than most.

Hands that need to
Create non-idly

Folding reciepts; wrappings;
Pieces of unappealing waste

Into origami -by now nearly
Unconsciously-

Turning nothing to something
And leaving behind him

Little signatures of beauty
Where less was before he

Unbored himself. Such healthy
Opposites to the cigarette butts

And crumpled discardments
Of us other; lesser men of art.

My brother has the vices
Of Nature. Of little gods.

We need him more than
He'll ever care to grasp.
His pants were nearly down on his
Knees. His ballcap was more than
Askew. She  
Was way beyond eighty, as swift
As a snail.
The traffic more "train" than a
Queue.

His friends were all laughing, and
Yes, so was he. Suppose it was meant
As a joke.
But so gently he took her by arm and
Across; our gratitude's all he
Provoked.

She thanked him with eyes that were
Wet with relief. And left us bystanders
In plain disbelief.
He bowed like a gentleman, bid her
Adieu...
Doing as real people do.
-
I knew I had hurt her by ways of a
Child; thoughtless and  
Unconsciously.
I asked her the next day to sit for a
While. And accept my apology.

She said with her hand on my cheek
Like a mom: "No need for it boy, I
Know you.
It happens to everyone under the
Sun... You acted like
All people do."
-
I've nothing but gratitude every day
For people acting in every way
Thinkable, all we're expected to
Is to do just as all people do.

Sometimes we are kind, but more
Often than not
We're selfish and cruel and
Demanding a lot.
But it's worth it, I think, for those
Angel-like few
Who do things as real people do.
 May 2014 Bjørn O Holter
nivek
a solitary sparrow
sings for all as all else
is silent
within that tiny breast
a heart beats for the joy
cradling the whole Universe
I'm sitting outside my tent in a meadow verdant green
Just sitting, listening, dreaming
Surrounded by stately trees Sillouted
against an azure blue sky
Tall hedgerows filled with blossom
White, like drifts of new fallen snow
That's why I'm just sitting, listening,  dreaming
The storm we had an hour ago long passed by
Now I sit and watch white wispy clouds floating there on high
Why am I sitting,  listening, dreaming
Do you really need to ask?
If I truly believed in God then I've found heaven here on earth
I've no TV or radio but music fills the air
Leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and bird song near and far
And so I'm just sitting,  listening, dreaming
Spring sunrise at four am.
Ine is what the farmers call
That green, transparent film
Of newborn grain
On freshly sown fields.
Low and red in
Rising, Father Sun includes
Little Brother Moon
In his rays of raging
Selflessness.

Top branch perched,
In colourless contrast
To it all, Magpie surveys
The spectacle
And only
Does just
That.
"These are just too him," she said
And put her father's boots
Aside for me.
A size too big, but just my style.
Cried silently inside; she'd shed tears
Enough by now.
I thanked her in a whisper.
-
"How did your doctor's go?" she says.  
I look down at my new
Boots; "not well."
"Too thick or thin?" she asks, the
Blood in question ringing in my
Ears in blushed embarassment.
"Too thin," I say, knowing too well
What whisky does to anyone's.
She kindly mothers me in whispers.

"I thank each day your life was saved
By surgeons and Warfarin. But
Just for me -look how it went
With him whose boots
You're wearing."
Soft ****.
Cracked
Concrete. Little
Teacher.
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