You are my Northern star, my constant
My calm before the storm
Your voice reminds me of heaven
Where love abounds, a peaceful siren


Your smile, my love, it is satisfying
Your cute little dimple makes me weak yet gratifying
The curves of your lips are engrave in my heart
Did I see a smirk, yeah that's a work of art


Your eyes, oh boy, your eyes
The way it squints whenever you grin
The way it closes when you sing
Leaves me in awe and at the same time it sting


It hurts to know that we can't be together
Whenever I see you, I see the word "forever"
Loving you from afar, admiring your beautiful soul
And all I can do right now, is write you a poem

-S.J Robs

I should step aside
to my dreams, and find
by any, the means

if by my own stride
to make cowards, and think
of our own wings

surely then, I go...
like the one before me, who said to have known what?! and what it is "to be"... to rend what is going to be;... because that- is itself as each of you can find daily the messengers of the world.

To be me-
dreams, that are
Police, who are
Bodies, that are
My father’s, who are as a
Matchstick's head, that are as a
Thread wrapped around, who are as
all that am
the Trigger who I am
and Are, hidden that I am
as Are agendas who at the least
Are ghosts that are
As dreams that are
In every Hamlets’ who are
To be.

To coffee shop, The danish, laughs
You’re not mad,You’re just dieing
Your own stomach;
can't even understand what you mean.

For you, Who disappeared, today?
‘To be’ is a rarity,
And as a non-believer,
This life is just random.

To the coffee shop danish,
Who didn’t show up For work , today
In those silk stockings
Just to stock the coffee,
There is One less, on the streets
To go lording.

We don’t Stop them from living
Nor step aside for them dying
To stain your smock with their colors
When your being ordered.

the day old screams
On her privately.

each schoolboy used to know the saw
laid deep in tracts of Danish lore

Forkbeards pious son and heir
Cnut the great, konungr,

his throne set to the boiling awe
somewhere along a Hampshire shore

but was it somewhat further north
he faced down scorned Ægir’s bore

his person kissed by Trisantona
upon her banks at Gainsborough

hurtigt
dog diskret
får jeg kigget på ham
et glimt af utilpashed
og varme
stryger igennem hans ansigt
genertheden strømmer op i mig
føles som en bølge af sommerfugle
der ikke kan vente
med at slå deres vinger ud
kigger ham igen i øjnene
og åbner dørens til hans sjæl
kan se igennem ham nu
kan se at han føler det samme
som mig
men alligevel
løber jeg væk
gemmer mig
hurtigt
dog diskret