Fully recover

 

I advise the devil to return the gifts

I advise the hours of love to languish

I feel divided in meltwater and tears

the deaf visions reminisce

I advise the soap to conjure the sick

out from under its rotting leaves

while the harvest levels the field

and I still doubt whether I will ever fully recover.

Every day there is something 

           ugly and cold to sing about

like something sung without front teeth

and every day there is something beautiful too.

I have written it on the inside of the bark of trees

I have tasted it in the cores of apples

my tongue wanders around 

                       teeth marks of ruins

I write about it

I have cried in front of even you

I withdraw when needed yes

I rebuild quietly

and I still doubt whether I will ever fully recover. 

Every day there is something 

           ugly and cold to sing about

like something sung without front teeth

and every day there is something beautiful too.

 

:::

Denne plade er ikke en nummerplade men en plade, der laver numre med dig. Numrene er tal eller bogstaver, som du kan have et vågent eller sovende forhold til. Denne plade er næppe andet end forsøg på kontrakt. En plade, der kører i ring og i rille og laver numre med dig. En knude bundet om din identitet, som også er en kontrakt, som du kan have et vågent eller sovende forhold til. Efterretningsvæsenet ser helst, at dit forhold er sovende - til nøds drømmende. Ikke at du ikke må have en hukommelse; den skal blot kun huske den orden, som den kontrakt, som de mener er den gyldige, dikterer. Men vågner du op med en hjemmelavet kontrakt, så er det det samme som at sige, at du er bevæbnet og at du er parat.

 

Forældresøens indre grottepant

Fra syntesen kravler du ud på tre ben

den introverte himmel spejler dit jeg

havets bølger er søjlerne

som bærer død og undergang

selv krydser du broen

mellem første indskydelse og urnehul

moderglorien mangler på alle kort

kun det 

er dit sikre es

hamret ned i universets hvide plet.

 

Dragonfly

 

 

Weeping wall am I anything but your drop

lying here sleeping under grey fur 

         and not feeling impudent

my voice too weak to ask the birds

yet another twilight breathes its question

weeping wall 

     I am hammered into the floor 

and the fog measures the day

the gape sleeps grey.

It's the sum of people you can't trust

that keeps the dragonflies afloat

and when they die

when they die

the four years of ferocity

await in the city of cities

jubilant accidents in the depths of water.

The disappointments are 

                              what make me wish

if only my body could stop shaking like this

and I could sleep for a thousand years

alone with all my running tears

the disappointments keep me awake

with so many fears

that make my body shake.

It's the sum of people you can't trust

that keeps the dragonflies afloat

and when they die

when they die

the four years of ferocity

await in the city of cities

jubilant accidents in the depths of water.

 

:::

 

Gumpetung klædning.

Er jeg en fugl der flyver?

Strømpebåndssnogen.

 

Seventh spiral

 

Have you told which one is the worst

how the books went up in the basket

for every bump for every bump

the chairs turn over under the butt

it's like this or it's like that

like a snore from the open window.

 

Aah

aah-aah

aah

aah-aah.

 

We abuse zippers in the experiment

we only listen formally

the ear is only a purk the ear is only a purk

cumulus clouds out of  sleeves

up to drive as we are

up on the seventh spiral.

 

Aah

aah-aah

aah

aah-aah.

 

Dive

 

These kisses before any sign of hope

they give excluded dive

light breathes sweetly on my body and I breathe 

my body won't be alone

love under trembling banner

love gift is my requiem.

 

Yeah

Yeah-yeah

Yeah

Yeah-yeah.

 

Well the abyss sits and snores duvets

head severed chain of fate

light breathes sweetly and I count and breathe I

am myself a swan cleaned

and ready, I flush river and ebb

while the body sinks.

 

Yeah

Yeah-yeah

Yeah

Yeah-yeah.

 

Et hjerte er en tunge

 

Et rekviem er en tåre fyldt med tunge 

et hjerte er en tunge fyldt med rekviem

dine smagsløg er dine smagsløg

dine smagsløg er dit hjertes tunge. 

 

:::

 

De udenlandske realiteter afviser det forbigående, at det menneske, der passerer dig, ikke skulle være andet end et tilfældigt fnug i universet, det enkelte individ befriet for det nationale rationale både som fascismens valium og den katolske oversigt over forbudte bøger ~ Opera omnia i samme skuffe som Alfred Rosenberg og Jean-Paul Sartre. Modsætninger der tømmer hinandens værker for indhold. Hver enkelt fremmed giver sin lille fornyelse eller forandring, men intet er os ukendt, når realiteten åbnes indefra; tvivl har altid haft sit rum og det fremmede er det, vi kommer ind i verden med før alt andet.

 

:::

Ingen tilslutning til kultur siver ind fra de fyldte tider, fra alle naturlige enheder "Helvede natural" og kun den mindste opgivelse nægter det at opfylde dette sit allerede fyldte bæger. 

Når endelig den lille kultur af intethed fylder al fylde, fremkaldes ingen nævneværdig tilslutning og de kendte riter indskrives og genskaber verden i os. 

For verden slipper altid sin magtesløshed som efterårsløv fra vilkårlige menneskers hænder; i disse mennesker, ubestemt af sådanne frastødte detaljer, kommer det stadigt spørgende frem fra hver sin kultur. 

Herinde mister den modtagende sin tildækning, da den ingen betydning længere har for iagttagelsen og tvivlsomt må afslås enhver lediggangs undren over verden.

 

White spot

 

I have so many questions

if the kisses come ashore safely

if I save something and am weighed down

hardly ever before did I go 

         through the same hell

that's what I'm trying to fix

if it helps to scream

if it helps to open sunken suitcases

old drops from heavy gasps

old questions from a long time ago

a wasteland that saves me and lifts me up.

 

There's something inside my head

it's probably something with my genes

it's a bit messy and feels dead

like there were white reindeer

when I curl my lip and get tics

hunted by fear

it's because it hurts

it's because I have a white spot

somewhere that feels sick

somewhere that isn't

in everything that I'm not.

 

I measure up my field of joy

and you still point out all the gray tones

it's a mystery how I'll get through saved

the desolate cracks indicate 

                   frostbite in the old shed

from the drops that fall and are counted

the knife blade in my pencil sharpener

makes me the surgeon of the soul

a cradle that rules so king

a field of joy of unbridled pain

the foaming gallows of the day 

                                 every day hangs me.

 

There's something inside my head

it's probably something with my genes

it's a bit messy and feels dead

like there were white reindeer

when I curl my lip and get tics

hunted by fear

it's because it hurts

it's because I have a white spot

somewhere that feels sick

somewhere that isn't

in everything that I'm not.

 

 

Paint my dress

 

Lisbeth says will you paint my dress

you must paint it while I have it on

the brush finds everywhere

as she slowly turns around.

 

Then we go out into the night

to talk to the birch trees

the colors are not fixed

and the fine rain speaks to

but Lisbeth she wants to dance

Lisbeth wants to dance.

 

Lisbeth says I want to dance all night

and you must dance with me between birchs

you must find everywhere

without saying a single word.

 

Then we go out into the night

to talk to the birch trees

the colors are not fixed

and the fine rain speaks to

but Lisbeth she wants to dance

Lisbeth wants to dance.

Paint my dress

paint my dress

paint my dress

uh-uh-uh

paint my dress

paint my dress

paint my dress

uh-uh-uh-uh

uh-uh-uh-uh.

 

 

Diving

 

Ooh-ooh-ooh

Four, five.

 

Diving now

diving dog emerges from guestbook

diving looks up under ferry

the hidden king pulls you up

from the anchor of riddles.

 

Diving now diving

dog barks at seagull

from a lake diving imaginary

meal, the usual from the pot

same freeze hits again.

 

River now

and everything increases.

 

Hitting rocks

the dolphins seek away

wake up

to the usual

the very usual, yeah.

 

Survive begin

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

 

I don't tie your little sister

Deep purple, deep purple

deep purple on your guitar.

I don't tie your little sister

but I let the door be open

I let the door be open

so you can hear her

so you can hear her.

Blue swimming, blue swimming

blue swimmingpool for you.

I don't tie your little sister

but I let the door be open

I let the door be open

so you can hear her

so you can hear her.

Deep purple, deep purple

deep purple on your guitar. 

  

Ruined needs

 

When the end is still alive and sleeping on stilts

where you push your hell into its hell

the world is squashed together in a sleeping bag

the whole world stretches your toe

the more you turn the pages

the more warm your feet shoot

you listen to

the world seagulls kiss

the sea is the world the power comes from

from the crystal clear water of the rivers

where deafness seizes age and spawns churches

it's just a brook it all flows from

from the inside of the earth

lift your reading glasses out of the night

and open your inner cinema

ready to breathe new life

into the last ruin of the planet. 

Ruined needs

ruined needs

I don't need you anymore.

Into the last ruin of the planet

ready to breathe new life

and open your inner cinema

lift your reading glasses out of the night

from the inside of the earth

it's just a brook it all flows from

from the crystal clear water of the rivers

the sea is the world the power comes from

you listen to

the world seagulls kiss

the more warm your feet shoot

the more you turn the pages

the whole world stretches your toe

the world is squashed together in a sleeping bag

where you push your hell into its hell

where deafness seizes age and spawns churches

the end is still alive and sleeping on stilts.

 

 

Her ligger jeg og er tilværelse

 

Her ligger jeg og er tilværelse

råhygge sømmet fast til tårnværelsets ånde

lys vil die, lys vil rawplugse vindue

sjælen lever i tåger

faner falder direkte ned i smeltedigelen 

rågekoloni løfter et ton fadøl gennem gæller

lave mål støder flod af stråling

og tager sine lommeopkald til nåde

du er Hiroshimabomben som aldrig faldt

de væskende sår falder som kirker

gennem nåleskovenes et-tals-klub

en anden verdens konge tømmer toner

afgnavede kæber bliver rygsøjle

så hør dog Altet suge

hele rodebutikken op

i Universets klodevask. 

 

Transoppositions

 

In the middle of the garden it stands and shines

with worm-eaten moldy apples

we have buried the remains in there.

 

If I had no past and had no future

I would be a butterfly

a free spirit, a lost soul.

 

From the rotten pile

the snakes crawl out

so thin they came out of their eggs.

 

If I had no past and had no future

I would be a butterfly

a free spirit, a lost soul.

 

Let the sheep run

let the sheep run

they have no stardust

on their tongues.

 

If I had no past and had no future

I would be a butterfly

a free spirit, a lost soul.

 

The maidens sweep the same way

the heavens fall with them

a monkey holds up the weight like a wall

of cobweb-thin illusions.

If I had no past and had no future

I would be a butterfly

a free spirit, a lost soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clean cut

 

Of course the vacuum cleaner catches lint

the whole house is a fit of rage

but then because heads fall mysteriously

like rubber balls on each other's icicles

then you know the dumbness 

                 the floors will try

before the revolutionary sparrow kisses 

   the red skin of your apple

you polish it with a palm sunday donkey.

Clean, clean cut 

three witches' shots 

I must not touch

because you dare not love me again.

 

Before the smoking deaf pot draws air

you see spring pass by

and then because there are 

                 poles between globe life

then your cake zoo will be 

       emptied of animals

the vacuum cleaner peels off 

           the fluff of the seed pods

and soon the soap offers up rice a la mande.

 

Clean, clean cut

three witches' shots 

I must not touch

because you dare not love me again.

 

Det må være sådan

 

Det må være sådan

skabe lidt luft i et åndehul

tale med hjertets esperanto

fælde en tåre som et skulderklap

til alle de brombær

kælkebakken fik tilbage

som lånte søm

det må være sådan

flytte en lille sten

eller tusinde blade

fra farvellernes syn

salamandrene drømte

mod mavens splintrende ro

alle årstider samlet

i en kimono

det må være sådan

at alle versaler

kastes tilbage i deres eget exit

der må være en orden

større end håndens bevægelse

hen over silken

en langsom gestus

til at fylde rummet

med smerte og glæde

det må være sådan

så er det på plads

i en bedre verden

en millimeter fra denne

værkende krop.

 

Bored with alcoholics

 

The ballroom is big

and you are the queen of the ball

you are wearing a dress

from your soon-to-be-large wardrobe

that burned down last year.

 

I am bored with alcoholics

I am looking for breathing holes

a new era of security in desires

oh, even my sleeves are running away

and unraveling into shadows

I am bored with alcoholics.

 

 

Blowing yourself up like a balloon

dresses you just as little

as rolling around in the puddle plow drunk.

 

I am bored with alcoholics

I am looking for breathing holes

a new era of security in desires

oh, even my sleeves are running away

and unraveling into shadows

I am bored with alcoholics.

 

 

In such a hymn they sit

and sound crystal clear

you must greet your way

yellow spirits come out of your nose

from the sucker leaves something opens

your conceited soles

weigh the wrong names

so joyfully all heels snap for breath.

 

I am bored with alcoholics

I am looking for breathing holes

a new era of security in desires

oh, even my sleeves are running away

and unraveling into shadows

I am bored with alcoholics.

 

Somewhere else

 

I wake up in an anthill

I'm somewhere else now

I went into the forest

All the trains have lost their tracks.

 

A drop of blood for all eel lovers

runs through my back

dolphins sing from high clouds

in a final question 

the question mark asks itself.

 

You have searched for me in vain

I am no longer here

I light candles for your graves

I am yours now.

 

I wake up in an anthill

I'm somewhere else now

I went into the forest

All the trains have lost their tracks.

 

Seventeen and a chasm in front of moon

continental plate node

vacuum echo

all the way down.

 

You have searched for me in vain

I am no longer here

I light candles for your graves

I am yours now.

 

 

I am gone and sleep a thousand years

the cry freezes in your wounds

the beckon from the railings 

the gills still apply away

only the joy of teeth 

oh joy of white teeth

and July long ago drowned.

 

A drop of blood for all eel lovers

runs through my back

dolphins sing from high clouds

in a final question 

the question mark asks itself.

Somewhere else

somewhere else

somewhere else

I wake up in an anthill

and all the trains have lost their tracks.