Poetry

Proto digte – side 1-4 notesbog 8 – Pink plast fabrik

Der hvorfra det kom
den vinkel
fra hvilken
det vedrørende
faldt
er belagt med
alletiders mellemrum
disede morgendage
vægelsind og
lunken kaffe.

Pludselig modernitet
med transversal rytme
brager igennem
blandt flygtige
unge mennesker
i kosmiske gummisko
locked-in illumineret
flimmerfon
endless scrolls
med bøjet nakke
integreret apatisk erosion
opslugt verdens-alt
gentaget digitalt loop
slidt overflade
spændingshovedpine
støv kaos og
blah blah blah.

Det vælter rundt.

Alt er blot med
anyway igen
anyway igen
anyway igen
anyway igen
anyway igen
anyway igen
anyway igen.

Gennembruddet uanstændigt
i vejen
der navigeres i diffus emotion
med labyrintisk forbistring
ikke det du siger
ikke engang en sang
eller en handling
alt det usagte uafgjort men
i vejen
kryptisk vildledelse
i vejen
i vejen
tag min hånd
men kun den
i vejen
i vejen
i vejen.

Fragment?

Glemt?

Det tæller
det digitaliserede liv
nul eller netop!
Vis mig kortet
over territoriet
der hvor din gestalt
er trianguleret
opmålt med sekstant
som det konkrete
der vises
reelt i shows
det følte
denne porno
dit messingkompas til hvalfangst
emo-strip nord nord vest
magnetisk abstraktion
nevermind
med hvad
mod hvad
hvorfor og
bagefter?
So what
udenfor interesse
de glemte ord
samlet op af poeter
genbrugt sprog
emballage
romantiske floskler
reaktualiseret som
pink plast
fabrik
n’importe qoui
ligger i en bunke
og flyder.

Og din kærlighed er i vejen
alt dette den vil
og skal til
og fordi
og vil forstå
og blive forstået
være i fokus
relevant
være til
eksistere!
Og vil ikke glemmes
vil ikke lægges til side
eller lades bag
i støvet
blandt historien
om det hele.
Blankslidt af rastløs murren
hænger det ved
opflammes igen og igen
med håret strittende i alle retninger
gamle håndtasker
der engang var smarte
fabulerende hænder gestikulerende
hovedrysten
det er ikke normalt
det er ikke normalt
det er ikke normalt
forladt med uafsluttet nag
det er ikke normalt
intet sted at anbringe
kan ikke slippe
c’est pas normal
c’est pas normal
et helt lands ånd
c’est pas normal
vrider hænderne til knoglerne de splintres
det der engang var
vender tilbage til
den dag de
somre det
år den
tid
der nu er
væk.

Kom nu!
Videre!
For Gods sake?!

Re: Nah, this sucks…

A fragment in English.

I hesitate to write poetic texts in English as I am not an English speaking native. This fragment ended up in an un-numbered notebook due to a conversation some time ago with a friend from Brooklyn who sort of suggested I should write something in English, maybe.

The experience convinced me that probably I shouldn’t do that.

Later today I did it anyway. Listening to an album by Nala Sinephro and absentminded browsing the works of Elsa & Johanna then, as I cleaned up my room, I stumbled on my discarded off-piste notebook and messed around with it a bit.

The title is due to the fact that I mailed it to myself, corrected something, then replied, still agreeing that it most likely sucked.

However I think the title is nice, well, you know, so…

Music I listened to: Space 1.8, Nala Sinephro , Warp Records WARP324.

(Note that this is not an opinion on Nala Sinephro’s music — I totally love Nala Sinephro., She has her heart in her music… It is absolutely wonderful what she and the other musicians on that recording have created so the title below is about my writing reflection as described …)

Re: Nah, this sucks…

Oh yes I know
Why are you saying that?
I don’t know
But you just said, you know?
I know

Those were the moments
when wine drunk me

Now there is nowhere to turn
as even nothing has been taken

What to remember what to keep
if there is none to remember it for?

I’m not that poor
yet
I can make another tea
throw the rest out
we can squeeze Earth
a bit more
won’t be room for all of us
but those remaining would
have global heating and
forever float in pink hot fudge
polystyrene foam
everywhere
happy bubbles
no need to buy
rubber ducks
we can go
to the beach
and have a swim
among all of them
in space
the oceans
giant vaginas and penis fish
chasing love
in lukewarm caffè latte dosed
with plastic pellets
manga
creatures
mystical

Look!

I know that one they
said it had talent
could be a star
failed spectacularly
imploded to
black holes
the rap music
beyond horizons of events
dancing
words
stillness
a palace of space
is turning turning
turning

blue

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