Don't follow
Me. Just
Come.

The pen is mightier
When you're bored.

A Sunday morning out there that
Makes me want to open every
Window and merge outside with
In-.
I could eat the weather; it's so nice.

She smells like fresh laundry
When she sleeps.
Slight dreamsmile on lips that say
They love me daily, and when I run my finger
Over her latest tattoo, they part in a smile even
Fuller. She stretches with a morning moan.
Never interrupt a streching girl.

God...
I hope to God that there is one
So this gratitude is recieved
By The Deserving.

I never pray; I never don't.
I've never been outside a church.

All I have is the same as the richest man
In the world.
The currency is just slightly other.

Beauty seeping from the pores of
Everything, and contrary to the claims of mr.
MC Hammer, I can -indeed-
Touch this.

Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.

I give you my eyes.
I have only these two.
World through my ears.
I'll hear it from you.

I give you my eyes.
Give you all that they've seen.
And here are my hands and
The places they've been.

Remember the way that she felt underneath
The streetlight that flowed with the snow to the street.
Snow in her hair; on her nose; on her mouth.
A hat she regret having left home without.

Forget not her smile -it is there, in my eyes-
The sweetest of weapons in brilliant disguise.
Here are my feet, seems we're just the same size.
They've jumped at the moon, they have kicked at the skies.

These legs may be worn, but they've done fairly good.
Supported me whether I ran, sat or stood.
My head you don't want, you should hear it from me:
It's as narrow as ocean, as shallow as sea.

So rip me apart all the way to the core.
Pry protone from neutrone, rob hadrone of quark.
Within my within there is her, nothing more.
She's half of my whole, it is her that I'm for.

Take all that I am, all I'll be and have been.
So the concept of man stands alone and is seen.
There are just three limbs from which I won't part.
One is my braided beard, one is my heart.

Alone I keep
All the lights
Off.
Ain't no
Sunshine
When
She's
Gone.

In memory of, and with respect to the victims of the 2011 terrorist acts in Norway.
As the weather resembles, one remembers...


Perhaps if you went to *my school,
You'd have gotten beaten up for your egocentricity
Long before it grew to such deranged preportions.

As misplaced as the runes you carved into Glock and rifle;
You'd have been not only estranged, but broken.
Disarmed decades before detonation.

Alas. A distorted berserker you ploughed through
Establishments and hearts; an armed teenager fuelled on
Video games, soft candy and steroids.

Pity the nation that nurses such an unpoetic national enemy.
We forgot your name and face, as you never knew ours.
The symbol we chose was an ocean of roses,

Like torches held to our love unharmed.

Norwegian leap year two-thousand-eleven;
Only twenty-two days in July.