"norwegians" poems
Except for the Nobel Peace Prize,
Which carries a hefty prize money,
No other Nobel Prize is given by the rich Norwegians,
Presented are the rest by the Swedish,
And the Norwegian award just the Nobel Peace Prize.
Alfred Nobel had died in the guilt,
The guilt of inventing such death.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 6:46 AM UTC
I found -in the shadow of a
Crane rigged and ready- that
I couldn't help myself.
Took a ladder to the huge sphere
Of chipped and battered iron,
And threw one leg on either
Side of the chain.
Sang leaning and rocking
Into the walkie talkie
As my foreman spat his
Coffee not to choke; laughing along
With Swedes, Polish, Lithuanians
And Norwegians alike.
Miley. Bringing people
Together.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
Adolf ****** was really quite a chap
He made those Froggies eat a lot of crap;
And he made all those Norwegians
Look like a load of paraplegians.
He marched into Poland with his troops
Into their pants those Poles did poops.
He made short work of the poor old Greeks:
And in their pants they did big keeks.
Killing the Jews was oh so bad and cruel:
Burning them up for harsh winter fuel.
But invading Russia was a bad place to go
And the Nazis froze in the cold and snow.
The Yanks were frightened to join in the war:
They were **** scared of what they saw;
(they only got involved when the Japanese
brought the Pearl Harbour fleet to its knees).
Only the Brits stood resolute and brave
For Churchill was an inspiring knave;
He fought Adolf on the shores and beaches
And the Germans crapped their leder-britches.
So what is the lesson of these facts from history?
Not ****** much - what a ******* mystery.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
Dear State Counsellor.
Once I saw you as an icon of morality.
A bastion of hope.
A ‘dancing peacock’ in a troubled world.
Some called you the ‘midwife of democracy’.
Others an ‘Oxford housewife’,
a peacock ready to show its eyes.
But now….
The Children, babies, women and men of the Rohingya
are butchered, ***** and murdered by your
soldiers as you read poetry to children.
And the rest of the world stands by waiting for
the Norwegians to take away your Nobel Peace Prize.
Another sense of justice, lost again.
The working hands of the Muslim men in Rakhine
are tied by the Buddhists, the lovers of peace.
Their guns gleaming and your army standing by.
“It wasn’t us” say the Generals
“It was the Buddhists”.
But of course we have seen this before.
At Srebrenica, Nanking, My Lai and Auschwitz,
until the gas came.
And the world stands by.
Another failure, another genocide.
Now, as your military load the death carts
and bury mothers next to their children.
The Buddhists place flowers on the mass graves.
And I call for you and your ‘men’
to be accountable for those burnt by the sun.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
Trinidad and Tobagonians
Haitians
Egyptians
Mexicans
English
Liechtensteins
Turkish
Italians
Norwegians
Germans
Portuguese
Omanians
Tromelin Islanders
Orcas Islanders
French
African-Americans
Maldives
Ecuadorians
Romanians
Ice Landers
Chinese
Argentinas
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
*summer's here;
and so's my ****** poetry.*
custard on skin, sweat, ********
while others peacock
around, basking in the sun,
to the trance of Ibiza
or perhaps sloth in St. James'
park feeding mandrakes
and geese and swans
these sun worshippers
and their hotdog selfies on
beaches, sunglasses, molasses
and ice-cream -
i'm sitting among blank stairs,
like an alcoholic Aboriginal in
some desert town in Australia -
blank, nothing coming in,
nothing coming out -
the usual traffic of poetry in me
exhausted by summer, the one season
i'm like Mr. Grinch - the loathing
of the heat - with Sahara blowing
more than sand these days -
fruitless season: oh, but of course i
can eat a strawberry, a grape
a watermelon and whatever i wish,
a kiwi a mango, whatever,
but i just can't dig my teeth into
the page, like i can in winter -
with it's gloom and frost and grey cold.
like in Scandinavia - where they treat
their melancholic aura as the last
happiness, or a hidden happiness,
where it's not a medical condition
worthy of a chemical concoction -
much more than just
pill after pill after pill -
the next pinch of airy salt that the cold is:
pinch after pinch on the face and the hands
as if plucking out feathers of a chicken.
summer's here,
and so the first summer thunderstorms,
yesterday the great stomach of
Ethiopia and Sudan descended over
my house, the rumbling of a stomach
of a thousand starving - thunder -
the great voice -
summer's here,
and so's my ****** poetry -
torden: stemme av eldgammel hvisking,
etymological observation working from
the Norwegian hvisking (whisper), although
similar, in Polish - obviously a letter or two
more, but the prefix hvis-
according to alexander brückner (Cracow, 1927):
chwist, chwistać, chwis(t)nąć,
‘orzech próżny’, chwist w 15. i 16. wieku,
jeszcze u Reja, ‘błazen’, właściwie ‘aktor,
komedjant’, ‘mimus’; jak świstek (papieru),
‘orzech próżny’ nazywa się
r. 1472 gwiżdżem i malikiem (p.);
u czechów chwiszt, ‘świstak’;
tylko u nas i u Czechów istnieje to chwist,
chwistati, por. gwizdać
i świstać u innych słowian;
my concern however is stressed in
italicised form,
he supposed that chwist- only exists
among poles and czech - well it doesn't,
it also exists among norwegians -
as already shown, with hvisk-.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
Spring love.
If either of us dies
Tomorrow
It will be in celebration of
Winter passing.
Spring smells nice.
Us Norwegians live by
The weather.
When the
Hair stays on her
Pillow we both
Shave
Like there's no
Tomorrow.
I spell "love" however
I want.
Death adores its
Favourites.
Life and
Love hold hands and
Walk. We walk a lot.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
I speak, read and write
four international languages.
Not to mention a few dialects.
I have seen a thousand movies
and read hundreds of books.
I have been to four continents
and visited dozens of cities.
I have traveled by land, air, and sea,
and have climbed a few mountains.
I have seen three oceans, some seas,
and have seen dozens of lakes and rivers.
I have seen a Jew, an Arab and a Kurd.
I have heard their views and perspectives
On politics, religion and secular things.
I saw a priest, an Imam, a Rabbi, and a monk,
Performing their respective religious rites.
I have worked with Russians, Gypsies,
Swedes, Denish, Norwegians a Greek,
Some Lithuanians, Baltic and Polish peoples.
I have consulted with British, French, Germans,
Americans, Dutch, and other Scandinavians.
I have seen some very great monuments
Like the statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower.
I have been to many beautiful landmarks
Like the old Twin Tower and Have seen
the new Freedom Tower and Central Park.
Yet I remain humble....
#IvanBrookspoetry
#Bassapoet
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 3:24 AM UTC