The English year

Tja, mina kära vänner!

Sedan en tid tillbaka har jag befunnit mig i någon sorts torka. Jag får ingenting skrivet, jag är för tillfreds med min tillvaro! Inget har jag att gräma mig över, således blir varken dikter eller noveller kläckta. Ty vem orkar skriva gladlynt, vem orkar serenadera sitt eget välmående?

Således tvingas jag ta till drastiska metoder för att stilla mina läsares törst (både de, och den, äro outsinlig(a)!). Alltså har jag bestämt mig för att publicera ett sjok engelska poem som författades vid 15 års ålder... Åh, denna vrängda tid av högar med vissnande löv och flyktig lägereldsromantik! Somliga av följande dikter finns redan översatta till lingua svecia här på bloggen (cha cha, bloggen!), men jag anser att de bör läsas på Engelska, om de överhuvudtaget bör läsas alls. Inget märkvärdigt, mina vänner! Blott kedjehus, kedjebrus, och tusen små, små nitar på en ännu mindre skinnjacka. Rasslar i min förmälda hjärtegrop!

I've been there all along

Reality of mind is nothing but a simple series of impulses
clashing together in the midst of ragin' thoughts
Nothing but a context, in wich there is no end, no past, no future, no self
No demanding silence
no painful, roarin' noise
no darkness, no light
no sky, no ground; no obstacles which I, in reality, can't seem to get around
Nothingness, where everything ceases to excist
only to excist again in an even greater evolutionary beginning
Where all the pieces of the puzzle add up
But they tell me that ain't real


Leaving all of that behind, you tend to feel lonely
Left for dead in lifes busy race
Hunted, ravaged, trespassing on foreign grounds
Like you somehow don't belong

Leaving all of that behind, stepping out into the sun
Going out to meet the world, crawlin' down a crooked highway
Poundin' on doors that never open, punched out by your own lifelesness

Leaving all of that behind, you realise that you've been there all along

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No, Mr Postman

No, mr Postman. You pain will keep on
Dealing with the words of others will break every bone in your body
'til your facing the cold ground
You will writhe in pain 'til death embraces you
Is it getting hard to breath now? Is it getting hard to see now?
No, Mr Postman
No

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Ablaze

Trying to communicate
Trying to communicate from this lower state
Lobbin' the words outwards
although they always, always seem to spin right back
Animating the dead never seemed so real.
Ricocheting, the words hit you, letter for letter, in the eyes
Poundin' every ounce of dignity out of you
'til you can no longer stand up straight
And as you turn back to where you once belonged
There stands he, the devil, laughing wearily at you before he sets the world ablaze

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The Inmate

You can go ahead and say that you don't need anyone

You can go ahead and say that it's all a matter of time

You can go ahead and jump, jump across this river

But I know that you'll sink sooner or later

'cause in the end the open sea will consume you

And you will lose your human form

Much like when the sky clears up after a storm

Much like the pheonix, out of the ashes will come; your reborn, idiotic self

You could try to leave, no one's gonna stop you

But you know in your heart that you'll always end up the same

Wretched, hated, misplaced.

Wretched from all the hard travellin'

Wretched from your speeding thoughts

Hated for your grief

Hated for your existance

Misplaced here on earth

Misplaced inside this jail

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Strugglin

At the top of it all, fighting to stay alive, fighting to forget
Strugglin' with those kinds of words, that just always seem to hit you in the head

Lifeless, uselessly abnormal in a sense of hopelessness
flying high above mortality in her own little sphere
not knowing wether to hit the harder stuff or to just fall down
The masses stare up at her, but she cannot stare back
She will not, she can not stare back down
for one look in the eye of the peninsula will, always, show her the truth
The raw, naked truth. Unfaithful and selfish, unthoughtful and devious
That truth is, in a sense, its own
Primitive thoughts, unlogical matter, mutated, wanted, yet hated by everyone

at times the train passes
Slowin' down in the shadow of the approaching oblivion
Stops, steps off, steps on, sets trail again
Driven by the fear of not keeping on

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Letter (Min första engelska versform, mån tro?)

Fortune tellin lady, tell me what ya see
what's a-breakin, shakin, takin all my thoughts from me
I don't need my wisdom tapped, could you please hand em back

James's a-tellin me, arrived from Stone
That he's lookin for answers
'll hurt me plenty if I don't give him some...

Worn-out regards,
Your Unsighted Madman Savior

.PS. I'm all out of words, could you send me some? .DS.

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I know

You sit there

Saying, "I don't care"

You punch your eyes into mine

"I don't care"

Picking the flowers of my tomb

Pulling them up by the roots

Crushing them in your hand

As if they were nothing but flowers

But you know, that I know



Sure, I'll throw you the bone

But you'll have to figure out how to get back up by yourself

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Figure out why

You can not reach me
Or stress me with your hell
or figure out how
Figure out why
Why times passes and flicker in the motion of success
Falling from the trees of heavenly nectar, pushing for the greater good
it all seems so golden, now, you know. Looking back up at the stars i always seem to forget
Forget how it used to be, frightening. Frightening, unnatural, hacking away at my speeding plow
Thinking that it would all turn out okay, great. But you've got alot of nerve asking me a question like that.
Blown out by the storm, caught in the mist, backstabbed a hundred times by faith.
Burried in selfdulgance, sentenced to a life in prison for something that you have never done
That you have never done
Innocense becomes a way of expressing hate, knowing that it hurts no one but yourself. So when the blue-eyed maiden comes
to see you, too, try not to scare her too much. She might fall from grace and falter.

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Ain't that hard to conquer (personlig favorit)

I don't wanna play hard to catch
'cause you don't even see me that way
Tell me, just tell me what I'm supposed to do
To make you understand, to make you see it through your own eyes
That everything is standing right in front of you
Life itself, love, hate, grief, confusion and regret
The storm is ragin' outside and I can't open my door
Can't seem to let anyone in right now
But I'll change that somehow
The weather ain't that hard to conquer

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Heights

With that out'o my way, maybe I can focus now
With that out'o my way, maybe I can find myself now
With that out'o my way, maybe I can finally find peace
A serenity between me and the world
Slumbering below the hill
For I do not know if I will ever reach the top
The pinnacle of mankind
The pinnacle of me
The pinnacle of what I have not yet come to accept as life
For what is this said pinnacle?
What differs it from other altitudes?


I can not see in heights
Eyes forward, I tremble through this dark hallway
Sometimes inches, sometimes eternities away
From my doom
I do not see in heights
I shall face my doom, belonging to no one but myself
I shall face the light, as it prevails
Rays cutting my sillhouette apart
But I shall not let it break me
I shall hold my ground
And fight back
For I Will not see in heights

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Always

I will still sit here
Strikin' shadows in the sounds
I will still sit here
Knowing that I'll never have my feet on the ground
For somewhere inside me, I feel a storm brewin'
Takin' me somewhere else
But it's not today, no
Nor will it be tomorrow that I disappear
Out of sight
Out of touch

I'll never have my feet on the ground
It is not the nature of my being
An I can only hope that the earth will accept me
For who I am
An cushion me where I lie
Apathetic
Face down

But I see

But I know


I'll still sit here

Always

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Föregående skrifter markerar, väl, någon sorts vändpunkt i mitt liv. Dessförinnan hade jag knappeligen på allvar tampats med ordjävlar (just precis!) på ett så... Liberalt vis. Jag anser dessa engelska dikter vara långt mer flytande och poetiska än mina tarvliga försök till poem på svenska, som oftast ter sig ryckiga som om de på något sätt utvecklat spasmer i mungiporna.