A rainy day in late June (the rag rugs of life)

It rained heavily when I woke up this morning,
But as I had my first coffee for the day, the sun
broke through and the clouds were scattered
and those left whitening to pretty angel faces.

I’ve been thinking lately a lot about domestic stuff,
as I need to renew a little in my home, like buying
new carpets. I actually bought a new carpet to my
living room the other day at the local IKEA store.

Carried home by my son home on vacation and
after hanging some days on the balcony to air
the smell of chemicals, the new carpet was finally
placed at the floor in my living room. I looked at it
and realized I hated it – the color and the pattern!

Now the carpet is banished to my bedroom floor.
And as I woke up this morning the first thing I put
my feet on this carpet. And I found I still dislike it.

Make it cosy at home seems to be an issue of both
taste and money assets! And I don’t have enough
of either one or the other. Yet a part of my brain is
(still) occupied with these trivial household matters.

I’ve decided to give it up and get some traditional
Swedish rug rag carpets, fabric made of course but
similar to the ones my grannie once wove.

Note – I live in Sweden and we Swedes are obsessed
with coziness and diets and fitness. Some believe it’s
because we live in a secular society without religious
faith and habits – but I believe people choose what’s
easy and convenient and flattering for them, avoiding
to broaden their minds and confront what’s complex.

Now eating my simple cheese sandwich I look at my
lover at the computer screen. He has log in only for
to have a chat with me, but my constantly working
brain wonder…

… if I keep myself to what’s real or if I live in
a fantasy world – about love and him and life
and if I do enough –  such difficult questions.
I don’t know if he thinks the same – what’s
real and possible and worth the effort?

But being caught in breakfast I try to chew
my crispbread as discreet as possible, it all
while we talk about nothing at all.

It was still raining when I made my breakfast
and I was then thinking about a certain denying
president (I don’t want to ruin the day recalling
his name) and about the environment changes,
which are so obvious – in my part of the earth.

The climate change giving higher temperature has
changed the seasons. Now latest we’re dealing with
serious water shortage, the level of groundwater i.e.

Well, it certainly has rained a lot lately. But only
to the grasses benefit. All the water coming from
the sky doesn’t go deep enough down into the soil
to increase the ground water level.

On the surface the grass flourish green and lovely.
Yes yes  – but I can’t cope more with lovey-dovey
so early in my day. I end the chat to take a shower
and start the day…

The future starts where you stand, it’s said. And
I really shower less often and quicker than before.

I intend to later go down town and I know I’ll
still deal my three simultaneous and brooding
brain issues: nesting, environment issues and
the purpose of (my) life…

This day in late June, so similar to other humble
days coming and passing by in the lovely and lazy
Swedish summer, yet not quite the same as before.

Typical Swedish rag rug like the ones my grandmother wove

weaving woman, photo of an oil painting by Olle Olsson (Östergötlands Arkivförbund) ostergotlandsarkivforbund.se/garamalningar/vavande-kvinna-a-lundby/

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The story of the man at the pier

The first version of this poem was published August 2015. The story is   inspired by the picture, that I liked and want to create something around.

I’m a man of fire and ashes. Every
day is new, I know – but it all feels
like repeats. I try to walk straight,
but constantly stumbles on my feet.

Time and time again and all my life
I’ve walked this pier there my future
and its end seemed to be same: just
dead ends. I’ve at times been stuck
in my own anger and fear, because I
couldn’t reach out for the closeness
and love that was wanted and offered
me. There were other times when all
that expected lovey-dovey made me
feel like I was going to be choked.

I’ve avoided it all and I walked alone –
but then came all the self-loathing and
self-pity; I felt so small and lonely and
abandoned and I was ashamed for all
what I couldn’t provide; longing – but
I was used to the old tracks and I didn’t
believe I could create better for myself –
I was simply a sad and lonely mess and
I thought I wasn’t worth anything.

Oh, but you woman – can you see me now?
All fear I carry in me? Your love demand
me to fly when all I can is crawl! But if you
let me – I’ll crawl all the way to your heart,
because it’s my hidden desire to love you!
But yet, it’s much I want and little I can!

Oh, some of my days I’m filled with hope, but
others are nothing but despair. But no matter
how the day is, I’ll take my walk along the pier;
I walk my walks to see the sea and the horizon.

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Wanting you is like trying to catch the wind

Summer dreams, Aldo Luongo

 

Yes, my pure-hearted lover
and sweetest thing in the world!
I was thinking of you too the past
sleepless night and when I finally
fell asleep, I woke less than three
hours later just before 6 AM and
I was thinking what a fruitless try
this is, yes you and me, it’ll never
be. But I had felt so close to you
in the night, as if we knew each
other well, heart to heart and skin
to skin. But how can it be, it can’t,
it simply can’t… And still I felt
what I felt, so near to you and
at the same time so out of faith
and hope. And then I thought
you have to carry the faith for us
both, because I just simply can’t,
as I’m so full of mature-minded,
overripe common sense…

 

 

 

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As if I tried to catch the wind

I held out my hands for love, but it
seems to me all I caught was wind.
My years have run away like sand
through my fingers and I now face
my last life years and I’m still alone.

Oh, I’ve surely been told more than
once I’m wonderful and lovable and
so worthy to get someone to love!

But look at people who are married
and have so been for decades – some
of them look or behave so ugly, that
you wonder how they ever could get
married? It’s a true life enigma, I say!

So what do we aged single people do
with life? Oh, we have a home of our
own, maybe with a nice garden, which
gives us something to do and care for.
Maybe we have friends and hobbies
and listen to music or chat with a cat.
Maybe we have a room with a view.

From my window I can see the ocean
and the horizon far away. Some days
a striking rainbow reminds me about
Mr. Goodman. He once said to me he
wanted to put my name on a rainbow 
everyone to see how much he loved me.

I said “all I want is you to be real and
coloring my life with your love”. But it
was back then. I guess it wasn’t meant
to be and I guess that he’s married and
has forgot all about me.

I held out my hands for love, but all
I caught was wind and now my years
have run away like sand through my
fingers. But time dry tears and I try to
be happy with what was given to me
and live my life as well as I can and –
I never want to cry again.

But honestly, deep down in my heart
I wished more for me. I wanted love
and to hold a lover’s warm body in my
arms. I wanted to feel his heartbeats
and breathe his warm breath…

And – now I’m standing at my window,
looking at the rainbow far over the sea.
I know it’s a light thing after rain. I also
know it’s now and not connected to any
memory. But I feel so old and furrowed
and very silly to even look. I’ve lost my
courage and my faith and my hope is
like a newly hatched chicken…
vulnerable! I would be scared if I tried!

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Once I looked for Mr. Goodman

Once I looked for Mr. Goodman.
He was a good Christian man, but
he never made it and I went on alone.
And then the American people elected
Donald Trump as Mr. Goodman, well
“fuck you”: Mayor of London, Pakistani
and Muslim. “Fuck you” Mexican poverty
people, defenseless women and children.
Good bless Saudi Arabia buying weapons:
jobs, jobs, jobs said that “fucking” president
of United States of America, the most stupid,
ignorant and rude person in the world: “fuck”
the world, making China look like a society
of human rights,  democratic values, good
environment policy and common sense.
But what can you expect of a culture
having “fuck” as swear word. In
Sweden we say “fy fan!” and
that’s what I say: “fy fan”!

 

Jim Bennett: I’ve been up two and a half million dollars.
Frank: What you got on you?
Jim Bennett: Nothing.
Frank: What you put away?
Jim Bennett: Nothing.
Frank: You get up two and a half million dollars, any asshole in the world knows what to do: you get a house with a 25 year roof, an indestructible Jap-economy shitbox, you put the rest into the system at three to five percent to pay your taxes and that’s your base, get me? That’s your fortress of fucking solitude. That puts you, for the rest of your life, at a level of fuck you. Somebody wants you to do something, fuck you. Boss pisses you off, fuck you! Own your house. Have a couple bucks in the bank. Don’t drink. That’s all I have to say to anybody on any social level. Did your grandfather take risks?
Jim Bennett: Yes.
Frank: I guarantee he did it from a position of fuck you. A wise man’s life is based around fuck you. The United States of America is based on fuck you. You’re a king? You have an army? Greatest navy in the history of the world? Fuck you! Blow me. We’ll fuck it up ourselves.

the quote from:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2039393/quotes

Good Bless James Brien Comey Jr., staying 2,03 m tall and holding his head up for America and for self respect and decency. People like him is my hope for Mr. Goodman these devil’s days of  ignorant darkness and terror violence.

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What to do when the thrill is gone?

 

She once had a crush on him.
He hadn’t a clue but went after
some blonde called Emma or
Ruth or something, treating him
like shit. She forgot him but she
was still searching for something
to hang on to. Then he saw her
pic in a paper and called her up,
saying he had loved her all time.
They walked the same road, all
by the schedule: desire, passion
and jealousy, passion, desire and
jealousy and so on. At same time,
they got to know each other well,
certainly a risky trap for attraction
and lust. A word was said by one
and the other’s feelings went with
no warning from fire to ashes and
passionate love to deep friendship.
What to say and what to do when
you still care but the love track has
become a daily life driving in deep
wheel-tracks, the thrill is gone but
the other wants you as before?

 

 

 

 

I very much like Eagles’ lyrics in the song “After the Thrill is gone”. If you want to, you can check it up on youtube.com/watch?v=sYi4vYBIh1k&list=RDsYi4vYBIh1k
But nothing beats B B King! I read in an interview with B B King there he said something like the secret to keep the thrill in his performances is to play a song as it was the first and last time he played it. And it works with me, I certainly have kept the thrill for this great blues man! 🙂
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Nitty Gritty

Now ladies and gentlemen, may I please present your dancers with their interpretation of the nitty-gritty

Posted in living in the world, poems by vonnely, politcs, satire | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Love you as you are

The movie “She-Devil” from 1989 (Roseanne Barr)

I’ve gained 6 kilos and you’ve
lost 2 kilo. I’m too fat and you
are too skinny. I’m too old and
you’re too young. I intends to
improve your thinking, I said.
It’s nothing wrong with that if
you in a nice way show me I’m
wrong, you said. Not nice at all,
I’ll use violence, I said playfully.
I want to explore you from top
to toe with my tongue. My body
is too skinny, you then said. It
doesn’t matter if you’re skinny
or fat, I said, I’m gonna take you
as you are, because I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

Jag har gått upp 6 kilo och du
har tappat 2 kilo, jag är för fet
och du är för mager. Jag är för
gammal och du är för ung. Jag
vill ändra ditt tänkande, sa jag.
Det inget fel med det, om du
snällt kan visa mig att jag har
fel, sa du. Inte snällt alls, sa jag
retsamt. Jag nyttjar våld! Jag
vill utforska dig från huvud till
fot med min tunga. Min kropp
är för mager, klagade du. Det
spelar ingen roll om du är fet
eller mager, sa jag. Jag tar dig
som du är, för jag älskar dig.

Gothenburg 2015 Swedish winter bath

 

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Callow mind

the photo belongs to Erica Cole erikacolephotography.com/

Know that I can feel your pain now.
Know that I cannot do any for you.
Know that you have a callow mind.
Your words were too often ignorant
and lacked empathy and insight in
others emotional lives. I don’t think
you know how you hurt me, it only
insulted you when I told you. I know
you miss me now, I can feel the pain
in your heart. But I know I cannot do
any for you. Life and time maybe can.
I know tomorrow may seem far away
but you know very well,  you have a
lot of time left to live and I have not.

 

 

 

 

also listen to this young man cover “You’re The One That I Want”, it’s amazing… 🙂

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And the lilacs bloom another year

 

 

 

 

The first of June and summer at last.
But my back aches after a bad night.
Two painkillers and then the bus to
the supermarket to buy cat food. To
feed the cat is my merely obligation,
(you shan’t think anything else). I’m
back at 2 PM at the rental area and
yard where I live my life. Lilacs blooms
all over between the houses. I’ve seen
lilacs bloom for now 69 times and for
68 years and many years gone I’ve acid
the view of lilacs with seeing them as
symbols of romance (probably not to
come true). When I now pass the yard
to my front door, I decide to give up all
such thinking, let lilacs bloom and give
their fragrances for nothing and me not
expecting anything, summer just lovely
and mere that. But I’m still not well and
back home I go straight to bed and then
I sleep till 7 PM, the window ajar. If you
want me any, you know where to find me.

 

 

 

Posted in aging, love story, nature, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, relationships, summertime, Sweden view, with or without you | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

On May 31 1941 it was too late for Margot

Gas flame from gas stove

Karin Boye Oct 26, 1900 – April 24 1941
Margot Edman born Hanel, April 12, 1912 – May 30, 1941

Margot Hanel

Karin Boye

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day after it’s too late to regret neglect,
to regret ostracism. Margot Hanel’s dead
body, blue of gas poisoning was found on May
31, 1941 by her coworker as she hadn’t come
to work that day. Karin Boye, her life partner
had once saved her from Hitler’s gas chambers.
But the intolerance of time in the safe Swedish
society killed her. Margot died in the kitchen
in her and Karin’s home with a portrait of Karin
beside her and one of Karin’s poetry collections
resting on her chest. She was undervalued and
rejected by Karin’s social sphere. But Margot’s
friends described her as a jolly girl who liked to
whistle. There seems to be not much more left
after her than a photo and a letter. She was only
29 years old when she died. And this is how it is:
the day after a suicide everything is so terribly
too late. But love that once was can’t be extinct.
Karin and Margot still had seven years together.

 

Margot Hanel

Dagen efter är det för sent att ångra vad som försummats,
för sent att ångra utfrysning. Margots Hanels döda kropp,
blå av gasförgiftning hittades den 31 maj 1941 av en arbets-
kamrat som undrade varför Margot inte hade kommit till
jobbet den dagen. Hennes livspartner Karin Boye hade
räddat henne från Hitlers gaskamrar, men samtidens brist
på tolerans i det trygga svenska folkhemmet dödade henne.
Margot dog på golvet i köket i hennes och Karins hem med
ett porträtt av Karin bredvid sig och en av Karins diktböcker
vilande på sitt bröst. Hon dog underskattad och förnekad av
Karins sociala sfär. Men Margots vänner beskrev henne som
en gladlynt och busig tjej som tyckte om att vissla. Det verkar inte finnas mer än ett foto och ett brev kvar efter henne. Och hon blev bara 29 år. Det är så det är – dagen efter är allting försent. Men kärleken som en gång var låter sig inte dödas!
De fick sju år tillsammans.

 

Tre år efter deras död avkriminaliserades homosexualitet i
Sverige. Men fram till 1979 räknades homosexualitet som
en mentalsjukdom att behandlas som en sådan. Men i dag
i Sverige kan homosexuella ingå äktenskap och har rätt att
adoptera barn. Det betyder inte att enskildas fördomar mot
homosexuella är utrotade. Men det är möjligt att leva fri!

 

 

 

 

Karin Boye is a well-known Swedish author and cultural personality, famous already during her life time. She froze to death during a nightly walk in April 24, 1941 after taking an overdose of sleeping pills. Her death was assumed to be a suicide. She lived for seven years with the German woman Margot Hanel. They met for the first time in Berlin in 1932. After Karin’s death, the family (mother and brothers) destroyed all poems Karin wrote to Margot and the correspondence between them. They also denied Margot as Karin’s mistress and life partner. Margot committed suicide on May 30, 1941. She died of gas poisoning. In 1944 homosexuality was decriminalized in Sweden. However, until 1979, homosexuality was considered as a mental illness to be treated, some people was even castrated. Today in Sweden, homosexuals can get married and adopt children. This does not mean that all prejudices are gone – but in Sweden, politics and legislation have secured the gay rights. It’s possible to live free!

But as known, in many parts of the world homosexuals are still harassed, tortured, persecuted, imprisonment and even killed. Politics and legislation are then used as means of oppression of individuals. Lately, there has been much talk about the horrifying events in Chechnya where homosexual men have been abducted and tortured, sometimes also killed.

“But it’s impossible those data to be correct,” Alvi Karimov claims, the spokesman for Chechnya’s President Ramzan Kadyrov, “You cannot arrest or oppress people who do not exist in the Republic,” he says.

 

 

Posted in create life, love story, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, politcs, prose poem, rebellious lovers, relationships, sexuality, Swedish conditions, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My bearded bird

I need wings, he said,
to come to you! Well,
that would be a sight
in the sky, I smiled, a
flying bearded bird!

Years have passed and
things have been said,
thoughts been thought,
hot dreams no oxygen,
yet invincible – we are
still here for each other!
Yes, I am still listening
to the enchanting song
from my bearded bird,
my lover in cyberspace!

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The Road

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess everyone has their own
tragedy to live with. It’s always
trivial and personal and hardly
visible to others. But it’s utterly
sore if any by mistake touch it.
(Must know it about the other!)

When I awoke the last mornings
I didn’t see joy or what’s possible.
Lost in pains, I’ve been zeroed to
let the day come forward to leave
for the next, better days to come.

But yesterday morning I saw so
clearly in my mind the big straight
road that’s my life. I surely know it
from before, walking it since early
years. But I avoid to be confronted
with the image daily or think too
much and deeply on it: because it’s
a hard road without mercy!

This straight and seemingly endless
road runs through a wide and empty
moor. It lack grace, but it is honest.
I don’t believe he is who should be.

When everyone’s gone, him too –
left with me will be my road only.
My Misery Road is all I have and
I would never deny its reality or
try to adorn it. But he tried to.

My road is truly not a walkway for
hypocrites who despises you with
lies and bias. It grows thistles from
bitter losses on the roadsides, true!
But the hard road is Blessing Road.

The insensitive and blindness from
loved ones – such hurts! I’d thought
knowledge of the other’s soul would
come with love. But it doesn’t!

I wake up in my morning to another
lonely day and I call it my only road!

 

 

 

Posted in armed loneliness, borders, create life, Living with chronic pains, lost, love story, morality, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sentimentality

Youth is an awful and painful time in life – an enlightened eternal now without memories and shadows. Only sentimentality can provide relief, shadings and distance and create sweetness to life and to what was back then – make the thefts into gifts and treasures. Being sentimental you are never alone and your love last forever, life can be beautiful and a tomorrow possible. But there must be memories to create sentimentality and memories require age and experiences. When you notice you becoming sentimental you know you’re becoming old and then you know too your days are numbered. For the music listener, sentimental lyrics are a reconciliation balm for the wounds of the soul. But for the poet, sentimentality is a tightrope walking between banality and originality.

Arthur Rackham THE-FAIRIES-ARE-EXQUISITE-DANCERS (cropped image)

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Yet “sentimentality” is the dog for wise men and women to spit on. You hardly find one single admiring quote  made by famous people online about being sentimental or sentimentality. Sentimentality is set as opposed such as true feelings, love and humanity. I think that is a gross misconception. After all, it was when our ancestors became sentimental enough to bury their dead, raise stones over them and create memory ceremonies, as we took the step from animals to humans, from instincts creatures to cultural beings.)

Ales stenar, Sweden

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About relationships

 

 

 

 

 

He always thought it was all about him
and for a sensitive ego that’s surely hard.
He meant she caused them the conflicts
and he responded by refuse to talk to her
and go to sleep. She raged, tortured of his
silence, feeling being in a desert and she
feared that one day when he wanted her
again she would be gone – because she
couldn’t take it anymore.

 

 

Han trodde alltid att allt var om honom
och för ett känsligt ego är det givet hårt.
Han menade att det var hon som vållade
konflikterna och han bemötte dem med
att vägra prata med henne och att sova.
Hon rasade torterad av ensamheten och
hon fruktade att en dag, när han skulle
vilja ha henne igen – då skulle hon vara
borta för att hon inte kunde ta det längre.

 

 

 

 

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About happiness

The thing is my dearest,
some people may not have
talent for happiness and
maybe I’m one of them.
But that doesn’t allow
you to make me cry.

 

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Hon gillade aldrig min förortstvåa

(A song about lost love) (Francis Cabrel “Si tu la croises un jour”) (to Swedish by me)

Hon gilla’ aldri’ min förortstvåa
men du som färdas, om du träffar henne
kom tillbaka och berätta, berätta

Berätta om hennes hår ännu doftar
av vår kärlek, om hennes läppar ännu
talar om alla mina drömmar

Men lova mig
att inte gå för nära
om du lägger handen
på hennes solbrända hud
du förvillas och förblindas
jag var oförsiktig
och höll henne nära
och till denna dag
brinner mina ögon tusende eldar

Hon har åldern av kursen: långa resor,
arabiska prinsar och kärleksäktenskap,
slavar fria, berättelser att följa …

Jag kanske var hemma en kväll av två
och vänner och andra var nyfikna
svårt att följa upp, men säg dem jag lär mig leva igen

Hon gilla’ aldri’ min förortstvåa
men du som färdas, om du träffar henne
kom tillbaka och berätta, berätta

Säg henne att för henne skulle jag ge
mitt sista andetag och även efter, efter…

 

Translation to English by Gavier, website lyricstranslate.com

If you meet her one day
She didn’t like my two room abode
You who travel, if you meet her one day
Come back and tell me, come back and tell me
Tell me a little if she still carries
In her hair her essences of love
And all my dreams on her lips
Chorus:
But promise me
Don’t get too close
If you lay your fingers
On the bronze of her skin
You’re crazy, you’re crazy
Without being careful
I held her very tightly
Today
My eyes still burn from it, still burn
She, she’s at the age of long voyages
Of Arabian princes and marriages of love
Of free slaves, of serials…
Me I would often only return every other day
And my friends were curious guys
Difficult to follow-up, but tell her, I’m learning to live again
(Refrain)
She didn’t like my two room abode
You who travel, if you meet her one day
Come back and tell me, come back and tell me
Tell her that for her I would give
My last breath and even the one after
Posted in Attraction, love poem, past, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, sexuality, translations by vonnely | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Linguistic confusion? (Papa Oom Mow Mow!)

artnegro.com/?p=3926

No, I did not see it coming!!!
My son would (of course) say
it was there all the time! Well,
true! You can’t always blame
it on linguistic confusion. So,
if you believe my words hide
negative thoughts about you
and that is what you actually
thinks about me, then I can’t
understand what kind of love
for me you carry in your heart?

 

 

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In the silence bubble

I woke up late today at lunchtime and
now it’ll soon be evening and I sit here
moved by a French song I’ve translated
to Swedish. It was released 37 years ago
and I don’t understand French except for
“je’taime”. Out there a bird sings sleepy
for rain and I think a little about you –
you who always thinks of me. So you’ve
told me and I believe you. But still, I am
on my own here like in a bubble of “me
and silence”. Maybe I waste my time: all
days dedicated to words. But maybe not.

 

 

Jag vaknade sent idag vid lunchtid och
nu är det nästan kväll och jag sitter här
rörd av en fransk sång som jag översatt
till svenska. Den utgavs för 37 år sedan.
Jag förstår inte någon franska förutom
“je’taime”. Ute sjunger en fågel sömnigt
om regn och jag tänker lite grann på dig,
du som alltid tänker på mig. Det har du
sagt och jag tror dig. Jag är likväl ensam
här, som i en bubbla av “jag och tystnad”.
Kanske slösar jag med min tid: alla dagar
tillägnade orden – men kanske ändå inte.

 

Som vi aldrig kommer att leva samman
Som besatta, som ensamma
Som de andra är så många
att även moralen talar för dem
Jag vill ändå berätta för dig
att allt jag kunde skriva –
jag hämtade bläcket ur dina blickar
Jag insåg inte att du var bunden
jag ville bara se på dig
Jag glömde mina egna band
Vi drömde om Venedig och om frihet
Jag vill ändå berätta för dig
att allt jag kunde skriva
har ditt leende dikterat för mig
Du kommer sedan länge i mina drömmar,
Du kommer alltid från den sidan
där solen stiger upp,
Om jag trots allt glömmer dig en dag
så jag vill ändå att du ska veta
att allt jag kunde skriva
kom en lång tid att ha ångerns doft
Posted in inspiring literature, inspiring music, love story, poem in Swedish and English, poem in Swedish translated to English, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The lover’s prayer (Älskarens bön)

My spouse in our king size bed,
blessed be your manhood. You’re
my heavenly cloud 9 and dragon’s
teeth. Work for our daily bread and
pay our bills. Stay away from other
women’s temptations and guard us
to be safe from evil eyes and deeds.

Min make som i dubbelsängen häckar,
välsignad är din mandom: mitt kungarike,
himlafröjd och draksådd. Jobba på för vårt
dagliga bröd och betala på amorteringarna.
Håll dig undan från alla frestande fruntimmer
och skydda oss från onda tungors makt och vilja.

 

 

 

 

Posted in love story, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, rebellious lovers, Swedish poem to English | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Move forward! / En Marche! / Shosholoza (Love a little more)

 

 

 

 

 

No one hates as much as the one
who has been rejected, but us all
gets there at times. You better let
it go! You can’t force someone to
join you. Learn to live and let live.

And let’s hate a little less and love
a little more! It’s simply a choice
and an ambition with no excuses!
We’re only brothers and sisters in
our minds, as souls aspire the sky.
The cursed blood we once shared –
it was all we shared. As the best it
watered the soil to be sucked up,
atoned to be forgotten – all those
secret griefs turning to treasures!
Love reborn all rejoined. Let it be.

 

 

 

 

Posted in create life, friendship, inspiring music, lost, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, roots | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My ugly Arabic lover!

 

My ugly Arabic lover!
His eyes are too deep!
He laughs way too much!
His ego takes a lot of space!
He talks and talks all the time!
Except when he’s looking at me!
Then he’s silent, just looking good!

Posted in Attraction, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, satire, sexuality | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

An election victory for love and common sense?

“All for love”, or was it an election victory  to promote common sense? Well, but who except for a Frenchman could vote and live for both love and common sense?

Whoever and whatever Macron will show to be as a President in the next coming, the alternative was really scary for everyone in Europe with a heart and sense. So I’m happy this night. And I easy know I share this happiness with many.

But we still have countries in the EU  like the horrifying Hungary. And Romania, Poland…

 

Posted in borders, create life, immigrants, living in the world, politcs, reading, rebellious lovers | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A boy from Morocco

In English below the Swedish lines

Han var en pojke från Marocko
Han kom långt från sin komfortzon
Han träffade en kvinna från Sverige

Han var en pojke från Marocko,
Han brukade stödja sin mamma
Han brukade be sina böner fem

Han läste boken varenda dag
Han undervisade barn på svältlön
Han var en pojke från Marocko

Han var en pojke från Marocko
Han lärde hålla händerna borta
Han var dagens ängel, nattens hankatt

Han träffade en kvinna från Sverige
Han kom långt från sin komfortzon
Han blev en man på gott och på ont

Han är en man från Marocko
Han har en kvinna från Sverige
Hon är långt från sin komfortzon

Han är en man från Marocko, hon
en kvinna från Sverige. När allting
gick snett, något blev så himla rätt.

(Gud går nu ensam sin komfortzon.
Ingen är där, förutom ormen.)

 

 

 

 

He was a boy from Morocco.
He lived safe in a comfort zone.
He met a woman from Sweden.

He was a boy in Morocco.
He used to support his mother.
He performed his five prayers.

He read the book every day.
He was an underpaid teacher.
He was a man in Morocco.

He was a boy from Morocco,
taught to keep his hands off.
A day’s angel, a night’s tomcat.

He met a woman from Sweden.
He came far from his comfort zone.
He became a man of good and evil.

He is a man from Morocco.
He has a woman from Sweden.
She’s far from her comfort zone.

He is from Morocco. She is from
Sweden. When everything went
wrong, something come out right.

(God walks alone in his comfort zone,
no one is there, except for the snake.)

Eric Saade is a Swedish singer and songwriter. He was born in 1990. His father is Palestinian/Lebanese and his mother is Swedish.

Posted in Africa, Attraction, poem in Swedish translated to English, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, politcs, rebellious lovers, sexuality, Sweden view | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sister, you made me shiver!

 

 

 

 

 

“Sister”, you grabbed me by the throat
and you ripped the buttons of my coat
and you really made me shiver and choke.

And then you craved to come intimate
and have me like your rabbit in a crate!

You wanted to make me shiver and be shy
for just being me, I never understood why.
But there were no pleasure but only sorrows
to be attacked by your sharp envious arrows.

Oh but sister, let’s us get this to go well!
(Even if I want you to go to straight to hell –
it can’t be done but it surely would be swell!)

So, let me suggest you to take a step back
and stop snoop around to follow my track.
You can’t snap others and still be yourself.
(If not jealousy on others is your true self?)

No, I don’t try to decide what’re your ways
but for sure, I’ll not let you spoil my days.
I’m leaving you now to never look back –
and you can do whatever with your sack!

Let evil deeds go to evil and good deeds go
to good and let peace come to everyone!

 

Posted in antagonists, armed loneliness, create life, inspiring music, living in the world, morality, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I am possible to you

 

It’s month of May and it’s time to inspect
the closet for the coming summer season.
I pick out a pair of linen pants and try them
and with 4 – 5 pounds weight loss – I could
even snap them! I look at my pale belly, but
I think of you. I think of you daily all the time,
but at the same I’m hundred sure I waste my
time and mind power doing so. This wishing
you – it is just an impossible dream, I know!
Yet I keep on daydreaming about you! Yet in
a blessed flash I recall I share this daydream
with you. And it almost makes me happy, this
only fact there’s actually a “we”! I am possible
to you! And if so – it means you and “we” are
possible too! Everything is possible! I may even
lose weight! Therefore – with good expectations
I hang back my linen pants in the closet, the one
for pink dreams that will come true.

 

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I will get to know you

 

 

 

 

I’m going to touch you below and
kiss you above below and find out
your secrets hiding between your
sexy beard on your chin and your
nice looking legs and I will get to
know you as I know my own heart

Posted in Attraction, love poem, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, sexuality | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Walking today on a stony beach of doubts

I live in a lushy greenery area, but
I don’t believe in cosy things today.
Today I long for living by the sea
at a stony beach and no loose sand
between my toes. It’s cold outdoors,
but the sun heats my windows. And
I want to go out to cool down, I want
to be like that aged rock star in black,
singing with tensed vocal cords “you
could be my silver spring”. It’s just
about I today mistrust his sincerity.

 

 

Posted in inspiring music, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

I see your face (tribute to love, hidden and forbidden )

Re-posted poem from October 2015. To M A and a tribute to all other lovers, fighting for their love against prejudices and violence.

pic from the site of The Carisbrooke Inn, Atlantic City’s gay friendly bed and breakfast

Trust / Minns alltid detta
(18 October, 2015)

You must always remember this:
evil has many faces and disguises,
but love has only one face and it is
naked and hide nothing, you are
sleeping now and trust hold you
in its tender arms through the dark
and cold night and there will be no
doubts when you let go of all your
fears, in your dream nothing can
go wrong and tomorrow you will
be free, for even far we are close,
your smile in my mind is my light.

 

Out in the dark, 2012

Du måste alltid minnas detta:
ondskan har många ansikten
och förklädnader, men kärleken
har endast ett ansikte och det är
naket och döljer ingenting, du
sover nu och Tillit håller dig i sin
ömma famn genom den mörka
och kalla natten, det finns inga
tvivel där när du släpper taget
om dina rädslor, i din dröm kan
inget kan gå fel och i morgon
kommer du att vara fri, för även
långt ifrån varandra är vi nära,
ditt leende är ljuset i mitt hjärta.

Posted in antagonists, Attraction, borders, create life, living in the world, love poem, Poem in Swedish, poem in Swedish and English, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, rebellious lovers, sexuality | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

(A rose to my) cyber friends

 

 

 

 

 

I go to bed late at night and before
I fall asleep I recall the past day –
and I ask myself “Is this all there
is to my life?” I wake in mornings
facing a new day and I ask myself
the same! Silent space above –
I’m alone and on my own, but
that’s what I’m used to be.

Blindly I reach out for friends in
an infinite and uncertain space
that I once thought was empty.
And I can sense them breathe
when they are facing me and it
strengthen me and it warms my
heart. I’m so proud and blessed
to have them, all my friends in
cyberspace. They are like a rose
on my pillow when I go to sleep
at night and when I wakes up to
a new morning light.

A man offers a rose to a woman to mark International Women’s Day in Belgrade March 8, 2010. REUTERS/Marko Djurica

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once again (yes!) I make a try to put together a poem collection of my posts.  This is  a poem from one earlier year. I removed it now as it was not good enough – but I still found something in some lines to make a new poem of it. Must add: my mood is much better than this poem was first written. I had then been diagnosed with diabetes and became very badly sick of the medications. And the manuscript I had worked so hard with  24/7 and for weeks and sent on e mail to a book publisher, was lost because of online scammers. So I was depressed and exhausted at the time. Internet is really Janus-faced.
Yet and not to forget, I have met very nice people online.  I’m lucky to have 3 – 4 close friendships which have last for years now. But I have surely met hundreds and hundreds of short time friends – for better or worse… This is my thanks to those who were/are a nice company to me no matter for short or long time  – thank you! 🙂
Posted in create life, friendship, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, vänskap, walk of life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Raining

 

 

 

 

We call it “April weather”.
I sat the other day in my
dreary and cold room in
Sweden and sent him
a lonesome line:
“it’s raining..!”
Later that day I wrote:
“Still raining…!” Then he
came online and he wrote
from far away in Africa:
“So nice for you!”

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Rock me baby, I’m 68 years old today!

Yes, I become 68 years old today! Old old old, I’m told – but like all elderly people I not feel old at all. Well, that’s what everyone thinks from age 32 to 92.

Yes, but you know how we are, we mature people! Whatever what we say – in real life we try to adjust living to the real age.

Therefore I exercise every day to stay healthy and get even older. My hobbies are gardening, my grandchildren and knitting. Now and then I have a coffee with my few but nice female friends and we also like to go on weekend trips to Holland and look at tulips and Vermeer.

I have a Wednesday group at the church there I live, where we teach unfortunate immigrants to converse in Swedish. Everyone can now say “thank you very much” and “coffee” in Swedish…

I have (of course) a male friend of “my age”, a widower who lives on his own, taking care of his own laundry and garden and grandchildren. We meet on Friday evenings for dinner and friendly and not too demanding hugs. Just to stay healthy, you know!

Johannes Vermeer The Lace maker

Yes, well – that’s how it should be…

But to tell you the truth (I don’t know if I dare!) – I have actually no grandchildren and no garden. I never knit. But I did, I have to admit when I was young and in my 20s.

I wish I was slim, but I’m not. I’m fat. And I hate fitness and I can’t handle small talks. Although even 68, my hair is only a little bit gray but not much. It’s a heritage from my father, who kept his origin hair color to old age. Well, he never became that old, he died at 71. Yes, it’s scary close my age…

I look at least 10 years younger than my age and it’s a heritage for my mother. (She died at age 76!) People who see me only on photos, believes the pics are retouched and that I try to scam people. It happens I gets blamed for it, but I think that’s a bit unfair, really!

I have no female friends around me, but I wish I had. I certainly not join any church groups, as I dislike all religions. I don’t teach anyone anything, but I have a “sister” who I avoid and she thinks I’m very political and radical and outspoken in public. Yes well, I admit – I do lecture people (if I get the chance, but I certainly don’t …)

I don’t have a man “in my age” in my life for social dinners and nice and purposeful hugs with no complications. No, but I live alone with a cat and spend my days writing poetry about love and passion as I were 35 years old, still hot but not shy anymore. I have no sex life, but I have a long distance romance with a much younger man with a sexy beard and nice looking legs.

I love him but he drives me crazy with his conservative opinions about religion, politics, sex, women and homosexuality and whatever can be – it all would be understandable if he were a young man living around 1817, but it’s not for a young man at the year of 2017. So actually he’s much older than me!

What more to say? Well, I don’t let age effects my doing. No, but I’m really scared to be old and grow older, because that force me to face my personal death.

That’s something you can’t say loudly as the instant response from the other is “no one knows who dies first, it can be me”. It’s so annoying! Oh, it can be true – but it’s not much of a comfort, really! My straight road is shortened! It’s a fact and I don’t like it – but I want to be allowed to talk about it!

But now I greet you all: “May I live forever, but may YOU live forever and a day….”

Posted in aging, create life, poems by vonnely, Short prose, walk of life | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The key to my mind

I don’t know why I began to love
you, as love came without warning
from nowhere and will not go away
but remain. We were “just friends”
and now we try to understand this
unlikely love affair. But love is an
enigma nobody to understand.

I fear at times this love for you is
something I have made up in my
mind to give my life joy, purpose
and meaning. As life is not good
without dreams and hopes. But
you are so scary real and present!

You said you’re still searching for
the key to my mind to understand
how I reason. Because my mind is
a mystery to you – and you think
you must understand me to be able
to live with me.

But as long as you love me you’re my
reason and that is what you need to
understand. You are the key to me.

 

 

Posted in Attraction, love story, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry, vänskap | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

You scares me now

I’ve went to bed happy and I’ve went to bed
sad and sometimes I’ve went to bed anxious
and worried of what will be of this “we” that’s
you and me. And yes I admit, now and then
I’ve also went to bed so very angry. And it all
because of you. But last night and after I had
turn off the light I was sudden filled with fear.
This fear didn’t want to leave me but stay and
I woke up this very morning with a headache.
Yes, you scares me now, just coming closer.

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Togetherness

John Bauer (1882-1918)
Prince in Moon land 1907

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Each opinion having more than two adherents becomes a group, which soon enough creates a set of rules and rituals to promote the group’s survival and then a strictly worded creed will be demanded by the individual for to be embraced by the group’s warm holiness – but that is nothing for me. I have to break up and leave to walk my own way. Although I hate loneliness, I hate equal much and intense the oppression in togetherness.

But twosomeness is something I strive and craves for. Still, howsoever eager my heart is – it always seems to be abandoned or neglected and end up alone in a studio apartment with a kitchenette. It’s only me and the cat and a closet stuffed with my pink romantic dreams – and at times tears under the blanket in dark nights.

All the time you knew me I was a real person, one of a million. You could have welcomed me in your life and been proud to be loved by someone as unique as I am. But you came and went again and again and you talked my head full about your love for me and you got me to suffer and cry. And without a word of farewell you threw me away, as if I were nothing but a bag of garbage.

In disarray, yet all that’s me is the same as before. But on the floor is all the trash you made of what was you and me and trust. And it must be dealt with and I won’t hide it in shame, but look at what happened between us and document the findings of my investigations, anyone to see or read. No space for hard feelings in what is objectified!

But who tells what dwells inside others shells!

I hide much hate in my heart, gathered during a long and troublesome life. But I do not allow the hatred to control me. It’s just my compass that always shows truly what actually was done to me. I don’t forget or forgive. I just don’t want to be reminded about it, but let it go.

When you pulled yourself away in hurt silence for weeks and weeks, I felt (and feel) like you exercises power over me to punish me – and that you never loved me for real? But if your love was only a pretending to be, I’m still proud someone as desirable as you chose to pretend being in a relationship with me. And you made me stronger, smarter and braver than ever before – but though only by leaving me? That last is too hard!

You really want to stay with me – and you wish you could leave me. But you don’t want me to be such a fighter. And you wonder how someone so kind to you can give you so many troublesome conflicts, tear you apart?

And common sense tells us both “you and I” will never work, even if our hearts disagree with that statement and suffers.

But what is “common sense”? Well, it’s nothing that comes from two lovers’ hearts, it comes from the surroundings everybody belongs to and are corded to. It is groups and groups and groups… only to think about them at all, it is smothering me.

Please love me, but don’t put a bridle on me.

 

Posted in borders, create life, living in the world, poems by vonnely, prose poem, rebellious lovers | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I kissed a Muslim man and I liked it

I kissed a Muslim man and
I liked it. I’ve nobody to tell
and no one can ever know
in a world of hatred. I kissed
a man and I liked it. I still do.
I’ve nobody to tell and
no one can know.

Posted in create life, living in the world, love story, poems, poems by vonnely, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Some thoughts about the art of writing and the art of reading

 

 

 

 

To write words and get it right is not always easy, but it’s nothing to compare with the shock it can be, getting to know what the person reading you believes you have written!

I hope imaginative interpretations most appears in the reading of poems and listening to song lyrics – and less as possible in our daily life communications and rational reading for information. If that happens as often as for poems and songs, it is really a disaster for us. Then we should consider to stop use words as tools and maybe mime instead – as it then would be obvious for us we are guessing trying to interpret the other’s message to us.

It would be good if people could avoid to put their personal values in artistic words. Yes, I actually think so – in these times when so much is politicized and violent and words are given bad contents that was not meant to be, but putting at risk to harm people around you.

As I remembered from reading an interview, Bono in U2 once said he was a bit surprised the song “With or without you” often has come to be played at weddings.

Yes, it is really surprising! Just listen to the words actually told in the song! If listening, then the happy two maybe would give the marriage a second thought!

“Save us all” is a lovely song  by Tracy Chapman. But I can’t figure out why Christian singers happily sings this words in churches? At best this song tells you “to save us all” from hallelujah singers. And I think Chapman said something like that too about this song.

(Quoting Chapman: “I…thinking about how we sometimes need to be saved from the people who think they need to save us.”)

Another nice song is the old hit by Norman Greenbaum “Spirit in the Sky” from 1969. He sung about Jesus in a tune as if he didn’t know the guy (and he didn’t, he was and is a Jewish believer). Christians should not embrace this song and use it, but call it a blasphemy. It is actually.

But I read on the comments on YouTube a guy say he wanted this song played on his funeral. That is so strange to me! Well… why not also hot babes at the funeral marching to the grave, dancing cancan?

To write words is not easy, no! But you just have to learn to let it go when you once have published your words. You may still have the copyright, but you don’t own the understanding of your texts anymore. Now the reader becomes the writer, writing with clouds on the blue sky as a screen meanings of your lyrics you never would have guessed could be…

So it’s lost. But you are anyway on a new track, writing on something else and new …

 

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Goodnight Donny, goodnight you all!

Goodnight Donny!
It’s late and I’ve been sitting up looking at a replay of the Pelican Brief on TV. It must be the tenth time I’ve watched this movie, I like it for some reason, I don’t know… Well, I just want to say a last goodnight to you and all others in the world, before I close my eyes for what can be the last time in my life.  Because you have teased a despot who is as dangerous, unreasonable and mad as a rabid dog… And therefore, Donny boy, you have put us all at the risk there will be no tomorrow for any of us. But I hope you still are able to sleep well these last nights on earth, despite your unfortunate inability to think twice before you let your duck-beak clatter.
Greetings vonnely

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A dreary dawn in April

 

 

 

 

 

A dreary dawn in April: a couple
of hours more sleep had
done me good!

You’re with me and as I know
all about you: You’ll sleep for
another hour.

Asleep or awake, you’ll carry me
with you forever. (And vice versa.)

I have 4 different pairs of glasses,
but I can still not see where I have
put my eye drops for pollen allergy!

My neighbor on ground floor let her
dog out and then she unkindly roar
at the dog – as she always does!

It bothers me and I go out on my
balcony! But the dog is already
back indoors and rant is over.

It has started to rain.

I also return indoors and have my
coffee and  cheese sandwiches.
And then I go back to bed
to complete my sleep.

I feel your presence. All the time!
A glance at the clock: you have
woken now.

Back in bed I listen to a wood dove
hooting in the grove beyond
the house.

It rocks me to sleep and I sleep
all day until evening and wakes
as tired as ever before.

I will never get over you!
(Vice versa?)

 

 

 

En trött grå gryning i April –
ett par timmars mera sömn
hade gjort mig gott!

Du är här hos mig, förstås. Jag
som vet allt om dig: du kommer
att sova ännu en timme.

Sovande eller vaken, du bär mig
med dig för evigt. Vice versa.

Jag har fyra olika par glasögon,
men ser ändå inte var jag har lagt
ögondropparna för pollenallergin!

Så hör jag hör grannen på bottenplan
släppa ut sin hund och sedan argt
ryta åt den – som hon alltid gör!

Det stör mig illa och jag går ut på
balkongen! Men hon har redan fått
in hunden och gormandet är över.

Det har börjat att regna.

Jag går in igen och dricker kaffe
och äter ostmackor. Snart nog
återvänder jag till min säng
för att sova färdigt.

Jag känner din närvaro. Hela
tiden. En blick på klockan: du
har vaknat nu.

Tillbaka i sängen lyssnar jag på
en ringduvas doande i dungen
bortanför huset.

Jag somnar till det sövande ljudet
och sover hela dagen och vaknar
i kvällningen – lika trött.

Jag kommer aldrig att komma
över dig! (Vice versa?)

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Moored in your dreams

This following poem is inspired by a poem by Karin Boye (1990 – 1941), a Swedish classical poet. Please observe, this is not a translation of one of her poem, only  inspired by one, so  this poem is all mine.

I hope you’re not fine and calm at all
but lies awake and wish you could call.
And feeling oddly happy and yet so sad,
anxious and confused of what went bad?

Then you hurry to try to get some sleep –
want to forget me and never ever weep.
I hope you stay awake with me a bit more –
I hope I’m in your dreams forever will moor!

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The end of a love story (I hope you will burn in hell!)

There is a nice poem by Robert Louis Stevenson (the man who also wrote the novel “Treasure Island”). The poem is called “Love What Is Love”:

LOVE – what is love? A great and aching heart;
Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair.

Life – what is life? Upon a moorland bare
To see love coming and see love depart.

Moorland Landscape with Bare Trees
Walter Bertram Potter (1872–1918)

But – as Proud Mary/Ms.Tina Turner used to say: “But somehow, we never ever seem to do nothing completely nice and easy… You know what, you know what?? Because we like to do it nice – and rough….”

The backside of  love sentiments can surely make your sweet angel to a big fat she-devil:

The movie “She-Devil” from 1989 (Roseanne Barr)

I hope you will burn in hell (end of a love story)

It’s too much of dying, too little of living in life,
haunted and handcuffed by anxiety and fears
and phobias. But you made me feel so vibrant
as your youthful immaturity, alluring love and
the intellectual inertia you prefer to have as
your life compass – it all surely provoked me
to become even more brilliant – than before!
But you abandoned me brutally like only one
immature lover would do – and now I fear to
see the dreary backsides of life. But you know
me so well – I’m not a forgiver. Even if I don’t
believe in hell, l know well you do and fear it.
And you know I curses those who let me down.
And that’s what you have done! So you’ve to
live with that! But me – I won’t bother to think
of you anymore. You’re simply like dead to me.

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A field of tulips would have bloomed

 

 

 

 

 

en ensam flöjt skulle ha spelat din ton
ett fält av tulpaner borde ha blommat
en varm vind vänligt dansat, ett leende
kunde nu ha skimrat på mina läppar av
det du är, men all som finns är tystnad
och frånvaro, inte ens en sorg bär jag här

 

 

a lone flute should have played your tune
and a field of tulips would have bloomed
a warm wind could kindly have danced
and my lips should so shimmering smile
all because of you, but all there is silence
and absence, I’m not even carry a grief

 

 

 

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Yes, but there are limits for love!


I once wrote a post called “Love has no limits”. I can’t in the minute recall the content, but I think it was about the discrimination of homosexual people in the world (outside Scandinavia). Life though teach you more the harsh way and I must now add – there are certain limits for love you can’t transgress.

 

Here is a moral story as an example:

A woman (in Europe) met some years ago a man from North Africa on a web site and one thing led to another. A longtime friendship over a couple of years led to a romance. And they certainly came to talk about meeting. The conversations also revealed the two hoped for more than a coffee and talk…

But sadly neither of them were wealthy and had in reality no money for any travels abroad. So this travel plans for meeting were on ice for a time – as a wish for the future they though believed would become true one day. Yet it was obvious it would be easier for the woman to travel than for the man, because of the general and economic difficulties to get a tourist visa to her country.

And time passed… Getting to know each other better, fragments stories of past life came up in their chats, such as life conditions and earlier relations and sexual experiences.

The man in this story lives in a country there unmarried sex is a crime, there women are expected to be virgins when they marry. If a family girl “gets in circumstances” (meaning get pregnant without being married), she is banned and thrown out of the family home to live on the street – if not finding another place to stay. The only way to survive is on prostitution.

On the other hand young men are supposed to “respect” family girls and not scandalize them with their sexual desires. So their sexual experiences comes from what the particular man in this story discreetly called “paid sex”.

That’s what he told when the woman asked him about his earlier relationships, “you pay for it”. Little did he know that the woman would react negatively on this accidentally given information!

There came to a pause in the romance after this disastrous information. (She lost her sexual desire for him and distrusted their friendship too.) But – she missed him and decided to forget about this “culture conflict” and continue the relationship.

It was not the first “culture conflict” they have had, but it was the worst – so far. He had “of course” not a clue he was “forgiven” for anything . as he in his own eyes always had behaved morally good in life. Furthermore – and still in his eyes, she was the moral missing link because she was not religious and was therefore doomed to hell.

He had once told her he hated hypocrites.  Now she claimed he was exactly that – a hypocrite! He was baffled and didn’t understand why this “insult” sudden came from her.

But – and to shorten the story a bit… the woman told him later, when the travel plans came up again, he had to go for a HIV testing (STD testing) before she would travel to see him. He refused with a simple “no”. She was shocked.“You say NO? Are you kidding me?” He did not!

When she insisted, he told her (patiently) people in his country  was aware that this sickness exits! But he did not believe he had it. And therefore he would  not do any testing. Simply! Furthermore he claimed she should trust him as he had always been “careful”. He did not say what this “careful” was about. But he did tell her he had made the testing 3 years earlier and since then only have had sex with one female friend, last 4 months ago.

She asked who the woman was and he said she was just a friend – one of the girls he and his friends used to socialize with in evenings on cafes…

“Oh!”, she said.

Because she had (of course) googling a lot about his country and knew from many sources family girls are not allowed to go out in evenings with young men that way. Those girls seen in the night life are prostitutes, or considered to be prostitutes.

”Who are you trying to fool, me or yourself”, she asked him. “What do you mean”, he asked.

She did not answer that particular question. But  kept on insisting on he had to test himself. And he refused again – and again. And again! But he also told her he was very proud over himself for this denials – because he could have lied to her, namely! But he did not, he said. He “would not go and test himself and he would not lie to her about it”, he declared, proud of himself.

Oh, what a hero!

But this was the end of discussion. As far it came to him.

Not for her though. “Do you think you are dealing with a woman in your country”, she said rough. “What do you mean”, he asked. She did not explain herself.

Apparently he felt honorable, yes – he did not violate family girls, and he did not see any wrong in “paid sex”, and he did not lie to her about refusing to test himself – and furthermore, he loved her! So she should trust him, he claimed.

And that was that! This was actually the end of this romance.

But…  She did not want to give him up! Even though she felt repulsed hearing him saying things like he said. No, but she told him he would be crazy if he thought she would accept to have sex with him under those conditions he postulated.

“Now you did it again”, he said instant upset. “Did what?”, she asked. “Called me crazy”, he said. “It’s a common expression in English”, she said (patiently). “It simply mean your arguments are not sensible.” But he did not accept that explanation from her. She had insulted him!

“Listen, whatever – you have to go testing yourself”, she said again. “What you told me is a risk behavior and whatever your personal view is about it, it’s irrelevant – but you ask me to ‘trust you’!! I would be crazy in your interpretation of the word to even consider to be in the same room as you!”

“And I will never travel to see you under such conditions!”

With no more words he stopped writing to her without even end the relationship, and did not answer any of her “hello?”

Facts: This man has lived in the same city all his life. The official medical reports in his country, tells that the presence of HIV disease is higher and more rampant among sexually promiscuous people in this city than other cities around the country. And he had said to her: “I have had paid sex in many years and so often I can not even remember how many times …”

The End of the End:

The woman comment the silence from the man, by saying to her adult son: “This is beyond all limits: I would have had to go to the vet to vaccinate the cat for be able to board her on a cat shelter while I would travel abroad to see him. I would certainly have to pay for this care – and I guess it’s not cheap. I would have had before travel go to health center to vaccinate myself. I would have to ensure I have enough insulin with me and having a proper health insurance. I would have to involve you in this to go with me as I have never traveled alone abroad so far before. I would have been forced to take a loan I can’t afford to be able to pay for the travel, for the hotel and for food. I would have had to contact our embassy in his country, recommended to do of political reasons. And he? What would he do??? Nothing! He even refused to go to the nearest health center to take a simple HIV test. This is so bad!”

“So you finally got the picture of this guy”, said the woman’s son dryly.

“What’s he sudden said!”, the woman thought surprised. Though she pretended not to hear his negative comments, but said: “God, what he has humiliated me!. I feel so devastated over all this!”. “Well, just forget about it”, her son said. “I want to rent a cottage for us nearby this summer and take the cat with us …”

Note my moral call with the story: Even if the woman in this story had been wealthy and used to travel around the world on her own, she would never had travelled to meet him. Because love has limits. If a man (or a woman) refuses to go and test himself or herself for sexual diseases when meeting a new partner – and demands you to “trust” him/her, this person abuses you, and this even before initiating the relationship. It is not love!

Once she asked him “But if your sister became pregnant without being married?” “Then she would have to pay for her mistake for the rest of her life”, he said. “And you talks about the loving and caring family ties in your culture”, she said.

 

Posted in Attraction, borders, love story, manly body, morality, rebellious lovers, sexuality, Short prose, short story, vänskap, walk of life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Well, Mr. President! It happened this Friday in Sweden!

Well, Mr. President! It happened this Friday in Sweden! We got our first terror attack in Stockholm just before 3 pm Swedish time. Undoubtedly a personal greeting to Trump for the missile attack in Syria last night. Of course it was only a matter of time before Stockholm would become the target, but I’m convinced it’s Trump’s interest for  pointing the finger at Sweden decided the target this time. It’s personal for Trump.

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It’s never darkest before dawn

It’s never at the darkest before dawn
(in summertime and now in Sweden).
And “now”, it’s me on my own again!

Yet, I’m happy it has come as far as
until April, though the meadows still
are dreary dead in beige. It’s the days
when spring moves slow, just before
all greenery explosively bursting out.

But the mornings are already bright
and there’s many hours of daylight
to blissful swim around in – before
next dusk. (But only think of him.)

All over the sunny coltsfoot sticks up
their heads as if they are trying to
cheer you up when you daring out for
a walk – sweaty in winter jacket, but
too chilly for a summer jacket.

But I can’t ignore the disgusting
piles of rotting, stinking dog poops
on the road sides. “What is hidden
in snow, comes forth in the thaw”,
the proverb say. (He disliked me
snorting in disgust over his dirt!)

And the flowering willows and all
the trees gives an instant need of
eye drops for pollen allergy (but –
I can’t help loving him anyway!)

I heard a few nights ago the swans
screaming as they flew nearby sky.
And when I looked out I saw how
a third swan tried to make a pass
at that pair who used to nest at
the pond nearby my house. (And
yes – I’m still jealous, even over!)

But the swan couple has already
sorted it out and built their new nest –
I discovered it and them too at my walk
yesterday. (Not a word from him and
yet we came so far we talked about it.)

It’ll be good when the whole fields of
white anemones conquers and cover it
all. I look forward the coming summer –
to fill my mind with other topics – not
all about him all the time. Yes, to forget
my tender feelings for him – “forever”.

“Forever”, bah! But we need rain now!

It darkens the minutes before the rains
comes. Sun will hide behind evil blue
clouds and birds silenced and hiding.
Even the magpies holds back – it feels
a bit chilly, it’s surely “cardigan time”.
(His warm embrace in memory.)

And I hurry to fetch the laundry hanging
out to dry in the garden. Well, it’s only in
my memory – I have no garden anymore.

It’s not at the darkest before the dawn –
no, it’s only darkest just before the worst
has happened. And my eyes cannot see
any dark, my ears hear the birds singing
carefree. I’m not cold and – and he comes
back to me! Because it is not over before
it’s over! And I know it’s not over yet!

it’s actually me April 24, 2011

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“Forever love”

Misstro den som förklarar ”för evigt”.
Allt som är levande bär sin egen död.
Kärlek är mest önskan och villfarelse.
Jag lyssnade till hans ”jag älskar dig”,
men valde att inte höra det följande
löftet om ett ”för evigt. Och ”för evigt”
visade sig ju vara kortlivat.

 

 

Distrust the one who declares “forever”!
Everything that is living carries its death.
Love is mainly desire and deception.

I listened to his “I love you” and chose
not to hear the following promise of a
“forever” and “forever” surely showed
to be short-lived.

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The empty folder (1 important)

 

 

 

 

I could block you on my e-mail and
on my phone (as if you’d call!). I could
delete the folder with all your selfies to
“Recycle bin” then when asked “Do you
want to permanently delete the selected
item(s)?” answer YES! YES! But no…

I might still want to look at your photos
as you’re still on my mind. And I doubt
in the now “time” will give me the grace
to forget you. You were not as I thought
you would be (Eve in the Garden said)
and to lose you might be for the best? I
only wish I’ve had some impact on you
making you reflect on things at times.

 

 

 

 

Jag skulle kunna blockera dig på mailen
och på telefonen (som om du skulle ringa!).
Jag skulle kunna slänga mappen med alla
dina selfies i ”Papperskorgen” och på frågan
“vill du ta bort den här mappen permanent?”
svara JA! Men du finns likväl i mina tankar
och jag tvivlar i stunden på att “tiden” ska ge
mig nåden att glömma dig. Du var inte som
jag trodde att du skulle vara och att förlora
dig är väl till det bästa? Jag hoppas ändå att
jag har haft en viss inflytande på dig, så att
du framöver vill tänka till lite grand ibland.

 

 

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Ashes

I fell asleep and I dreamed
the ground was covered with
soft grey ashes. I was barefoot
and the ashes were still lukewarm.
“So be it”, he said to me. I woke up.

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Who needs a man when you have a cat?

photo YB my cat Maja

Han har dragit sig tillbaka
och byggt en Trumpsk mur
av tystnad och han låter mig
betala för den. Två dagar av
total tystnad och allt av ljud
som har hörts här hemma är
kattens spinnande. Hon sover
i min säng och hon blinkar så
vänligt när jag vaknar – det är
då en plötslig suck undslipper
mig och jag hör en röst inom
mig säga: ”Men vem behöver
en karl – när man har en katt?”

 

 

 

He has receded and built
a Trumpish wall of silence
and he lets me pay for it.
Two days of total silence
and the only sound heard
at home is my purring cat.
She sleeps in my bed and
she blinks so friendly at me
when I wake up. It’s then a
sudden sigh eludes me and
a voice inside me say: “But
who needs a man – when
you have a cat?”

woman with a cat, Pablo Picasso 1900

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I want to take you higher

Rita Hayworth and Fred Astaire rehearsing on the set of “You were never lovelier” 1942

You know I miss you and there’s
a need in me for you, no matter
how you act and behave and I
know well you miss me too and
you’ll not be good without me.
So where do we go from here?
You seems to think silence will
do it for you? If that’s what you
want to have – you’ll get it! But
think for a while if love really is
about act out proud and power?
Missing won’t give you anything
but missing and I know you miss
me as much as I miss you! Only
my total lack of interest in pride
and power can save you now –
as I want to take you higher!

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