[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