The Grim Reaper reaches deeper,
Over-eager to catch a keeper,
Create another ever-sleeper,
At the expense of ever-weepers.

Playing heart-string harps, his hand extends,
Lost in searching, he transcends
O'er prayers and pleas. He descends:
The catalyst of anguished ends.

A terminator of life's coda,
Enternally, he fills his quota.

Ah, this meditative combination
Of balcony summer, drinks and
Poetry.
Oh, this carefree state of mindfull
Bliss; breathing tickles.
Poetry
Was never so absolute; park trees,

City summer, green lungs of
Oslo full of air.
Seeing the bushes by the railroad,
Pieces of nature
Peeping through
The cracks of civilization, taking
Control of city people's hearts.

Flowers dancing shamelessly
*******, swaying in breezes of the
Kind that picks up the heat from
Sunshine-warm streets and
Hugs you with it;
Rubs it all over you
Like a lap dancing angel.

Ah, to live is to meditate.
Late summer, August ablaze.
Weekend era; aeon of freedom.
As at home as any
Norwegian in
Norway. All I try to do ends
Up in laughter.

Laughter hot on the
Trail of your tears. A

Mother's gentle breath
Soothing a bruised knee.

There,
Now.

Broken heart healed, see?
Scar free and good as new.

Winds follow rains;
Spring winter.

Hell, even Lieutenant Dan's legs
Grew back in the end.

then it just stopped. the movement, the loudness of her world, silenced. her finger tips quit brushing my skin and her breaths became softer each time. longer than the one before. she grew still. and while i laid there, chest pressed against hers, i realized i had found the one thing ive searched for all my life; home.

You opened your mouth, and the words came out
Came right out from the heart, in the heart
Of the desert, and your heart was a desert
Deserted arid, you alone, never alone, forever
Lonely, only because the words came out
Out there, where they were
They were deaf, and blind, blinded from
The blinders they wore, deafened at war
With lies, lying to you, you... lied to, mute
Mutated, saying nothing, with
Nothing talking, speaking nothing so
No thing is spoken, to you, broken because
You opened your mouth, and the words came out

I am a single mother
Can you feel my pain
I wear too many hats
Too much stress on my brain
Can someone take this burden of my back
I strive to make it but sometimes I lack
Society leaves me
Forgotten
Through the system I go
Making me feel inferior
Bringing my spirits low
Man cannot help me
So on my knees I fall
Through my pain and weaknesses
God will restore all
In him I find hope
For today and tomorrow
He wiped my tears
Eased my fears
And took away my sorrow

totally alone again
but for once,
that's okay--
i needed this time
to just pull away
to reflect and decide
who it is
i really want to be
and to find out too
if you'll even miss
that woman
i used to be...

doesn't really matter tho
for if there
is one certain thing
i most definitely know
it's that no one cares
as much as you think and hope
they do--
and least of all not those
who are the likes of you--

so never mind--
loneliness can be my new name
and all will work out fine
as i learn this new game
and i won't allow my heart
to fall for you
ever again
so keep on hopin'
(if you want)
-but-
*you will NOT win.

Up here it is more temporary; the
Sun has already turned.
In six months, the only light will be
That of the snow piercing through the
Darkness of a
23 hour night.

Words such as swimming and
Barbecue have the same taste as the
Cardboard of the box you are provided
With when being told to
Clear out your desk immediately.
And the winds pick up from

Closer to north with promises of
Ice cold rain in them.
Then just ice.
I fear not bullet nor blade, but look
Down and shiver at the thought of having
A brief, bad summer

Such as this.
I spent a week on Helene's parents'
Boat in the fjords, fishing and eating
Cod still wet with salt water, but yet;
The skies were grey; the breezes
Ungentle; unsoothing.

But I read. I wrote. Saw viking sites
Where the ground still
Smells of sacrificial blood and
Mead, and there
I shrugged the disappointment off as I
Closed my eyes and imagined paddle

Sounds and Norse grunts from a
Thousand years ago; rugged
Travellers returning after months at sea
Under a fierce foreign sun, finally home.
Thinking nothing at all
Of the weather.