[untitled]

on those days

when I take the bus

to work

from son

through hølen

to vestby

the best

travelling musique

through the headphones

for the ears to hear

waylon jennings

or

the soundtrack to almost famous

Autumn (The Same Old Bullshit, Never Ending) Pt.II

autumn

another word to call it -

Fall

the Fall

yes, the Fall

falling apart

everything

when things fall apart

not the fourth album

from the Roots

yet my life

...

the weather

these weeks

gray, overcast and foggy

like my mind

fitting the mood

drowning in thoughts,

stress and anxiety

gone -

far too lost

loss of time

time -

slipping away fast

life wasting away

wasting away the Gods

given creative talents

into nothing

Autumn (The Same Old Bullshit, Never Ending)

the Fall

thirty-one days

four and a half weeks

a month

the days just seem

to bleed together now

time is passing by fast

nothing

is really happening

boring times

it's been

all the same

old routine

stuck

in second gear

thinking, thinking,

and re-thinking

writing, writing,

and re-writing

a month's worth

of thoughts

twenty-seven and a half pages

it all seems

useless,

pointless

stress, worry,

anxiety, and sickness

life -

it feels

like it's all

piling on at once

too much

to take on.

one birthday gone by

and another to come

the ending

of thirties

passing a four year anniversary

ending of a job

weeks of

cold, dreary overcast,

fog, and rain

the early days

of darkness

are coming now

with only

a weekend holiday

to Vilnius

to look forward to.

Ending of the Thirties. (The Last Year)

my thirty-ninth born day

the last year

end of my thirties

an october saturday

and I was born on a saturday,

in the morning

outside

it was typical norsk autumn

cold, gray overcast,

heavy fog and rain

...

next year -

the four-zero.

Just Another One of Those Poems.

autumn october sunday

it was a rainy morning

the air outside was chilly

in the afternoon

the sun tried to show,

fighting to shine

from behind

the clouded overcast

with patches of crisp

clean blue sky

the ipod played on shuffle

I stayed sober

drinking only water

eating cheese filled

green olives and peppers

sitting at the vintage writing desk

writing thoughts

the last year of my thirties

losing another job

with the balcony door open

that crisp cool autumn

october air

I stood

in the balcony doorway

looking out

over the quiet street

of lökkeveien

and the wooden houses

of Son - a small seaside village

[untitled]

indian summer friday

late september

a warm day

with clear blue sky

the swedish countryside

small towns of

Töreboda, Mariestad,

and Tidan

me and my cousin

high on christiana tea

ancient world,

centuries old

viking stones

with runic carvings

driving the two lane

country highway of the 202

[untitled]

a mid-august saturday

skåne, southern sweden

drunk on

beer, cava, and whiskey

a four and a half kilometer hike

through the woods

along over grown trails and

narrow dirt roads

out to small country roads,

dirt and paved

walking by old farm houses and barns,

wheat fields and pastures

stopping briefly to pet cows and horses

the sky was clouded gray, overcast

with slight drizzles of rain

- not long lasting

the wind blew strong

a chilly late afternoon

on the way to

an old world school house

for a dinner with family and friends

[untitled]

a summer wednesday night, late

in june

the sun still shined

just barely fading

drinking white wine

eating wasa crisp bread

with butter and cheese,

seasoned with herb salt

and red beet salad and

green olives

writing thoughts

[untitled]

a spring sunday - may

sunny but with chilled winds

kind of a cold day

driving around alone, aimlessly

the small norwegian towns of

son, moss, and vestby

scouting for street skate spots

yet no skating being done

just driving to nowhere

a sad lonely day

[untitled]

why-oh

why-oh

why-oh

did I ever

leave Ohio

[untitled]

the lone tormented soul

of an artist:

skateboarder, photographer, writer.

[untitled]

friday, april spring

the park at Risil

clear blue sky with

sun shining

chilly - cool breezes

barren leafless trees

kids play in the schoolyard

the skatepark is empty

Reflection.

depressed on skateboarding

once again,

spring time is coming on

slowly

overcasted, cold gray,

rainy days

still linger on

the clear, blue sky

warmer, yet still with cool breeze

days

don't last for long

skating is becoming a

mere dream

pining now

for those long gone

warm Florida

nights and days

cruising the downtown

city streets with Millz,

my cruising partner

-

I need to stop dreaming.

I need to get my faith back.

Rediscovered Writings. Book I (1998-2001)

I sit and stare

as raindrops run down the windows

the cars outside

go by as faded memories

I once wrote that things,

life and people,

are funny to me...

it's odd sometimes

wandering around

getting lost in your own thoughts

trying to figure out life

purpose of existence

and what it amounts to

does it amount to anything worth while?

____

it's dark outside

I can barely see the cars driving by

- only making them out by their headlights

thunder rumbles off in the distance

as flashes of lightning flicker

and brighten the sky for a matter of seconds

the raindrops fall hard

and break the calmness of the sitting puddles

just as the customers in the store

breaks the calmness of me

the customers leave

and the distant thunder rumbles on

along with some smooth sounds

of Acid Jazz/Hip-Hop

bringing me back

to a settled calm state

taking the lyrics in

and sitting beside my thoughts

the calmness gets broken up a bit

by a couple of raindrops (customers)

but easily returns shortly

so I just sit

with my thoughts

staring out at the puddles

beaten by raindrops

as the cars pass.

____

nag champa is the scent

and the doors is the sound

the setting is the sanctuary of my bedroom

and as per usual

it's a routine situation.

____

I have so much in my head right now

thoughts have been running wild

but my laziness took control a while ago.

____

yet another day

pretty much completely wasted away

by me laying in my bed

locked in this dungeon of my room.

____

boredom

fear

fear of boredom

fucking no motivation for anything

just going through the motions

boredom,

that rat bastard.

Broke, Broken.

a new year began

the days were just the same

as the old of the year before

heavy sad feelings of anxiety

with stomach pains

still lingered on

insomnia - sleepless nights

stress and worry.

a january tuesday

dismal - gray, cold, rain

a drive alone to sweden,

on the E6 south

not made

broken down car

stranded in Råde Norway

to sit on a couch

at a mechanic shop,

drinking coffee

and reading

the book read -

Patti Smith's Just Kids.

waiting

for a ride from a friend

wanting, with hope

for things to just get better