What BAE really Stands For


(before anyone else) = BAE

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Mni Wiconi

Your art is my art
On a sea of dreams
On the petal of a flower
Seen before through many times

History repeats all mystics
Forests rejoice in their coming
Your art is not about how many people
Enjoy your work, it’s about

Your heart on the display of discovery
At the beck and call of
Some secret of your spirit
At the mercy of some

Deeper feeling than you cannot contain
That buds from the silence
And gives in to the melody
Behind the vibration of everything

There’s no trading honesty in this world
Our anxiety and vulnerability show enough
On our skin, we cannot hide it
That’s why, your art is my art

There’s no homepage for holistic healing
It’s born from our journey and communion
With each other, all seekers
I can’t seem to master the art of timing

To be able to find you at the right moment
The years and decades will go by
And I’ll still remember you at twenty-four
The way your hair flew to sunsets

And the moist neediness in your speech
It was in late Autumn when you went west
Where I dug up a piece of your wildlife heart
But you had already flown
Like a swan into the night

And not even my eyes that had bathed in your sunshine
For a spiritual moment could find you
Through that rush of ginger and turmeric after-taste
Like incense, you had escaped all definition
Though the impression struck me as something subtle

The leftover from a life left behind
Of meditation or even caring about chakras
Through still I can say, “your art is my art”

Water of life, tears of loving
To wash the dust of daily living
From our souls, where we were adopted
And where we departed our most beloved ones.

If vision was the art of seeing
The goodness in others that was invisible to others
I imagined you could see right into me
And it didn’t matter you were miles away

Love of beauty was a taste
And the creation of art was a kind
And our art sometimes protected
Sometimes procrastinated with our mistakes
Those were the feelings we treasured the most, in fact
You always had him, before anyone else.

Letters from my German Soul 


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I should think I’m a better ghost of a poet
Than a human being, why?
We no longer share a language
I’ve become too abstract, like

How sometimes everything seems
So subjective, until I lose myself
In the dream of a body
In the hopes of a mortal life

That nonetheless anticipates ecstasy
Even when I have learned to fear pain
Trusting the moment, walking through fire

To get to some place that was
Inside myself all along
The most solid advice my soul ever gave
Was to burn my hand about the nature of fire

To live as a poet might live
But I’m, more heart than alchemy
More curiosity, than temptation

More innovator, than life-traveller
Poetry and astrology were my mother-tongues
Until I had to learn new languages
Software and smiling, to enter

The Sunday of my brief life
Dying to myself that I might
Feel the bliss of a frozen moment
That melts perfectly into the here and now.

some stars


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Some Stars

These are amazing, each
Fleeting with the light of each other
As a performance in the night
Arranged by chance

Floating like trees in morning
To meet as far as the eyes can see
As far as things can travel
Exploding to tell us that

ii

Life is everywhere
Something so simple
Like oceans or trees but more distant
Gazing into history with a chorus

Of smiles and a canvas that
Felt like the face of eternity
Placed in a puzzle of so many pebbles
As to dance by the waves

iii

In the sunshine, moving slowly
Across the skies with their
Own accents, own astrology
An astronomy of amazing indifference

Fortitude, prophecy, design
Intelligence in a quantum physics kind of way
These are joining a neighbour or moving
Towards a friend, and does it mean something?

The way they double up, have baby planets
Disappear, we may touch, love, explain….

The Business of Light


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The moon’s orb waxes and wanes/
On me for days, like a holiday without limits
Prize emotions, going into battle
Mortality, salty and sweet –

Sickness melts into health
Abandonment into revelation
My longing for the music of the soul
Cannot be kept down for long, the

Tambourine-sun of my heart/
Is Venus personified, shinning like
Heart break spread upon rosebuds
Of the playing in concert of final compassion

I obliterate pain, with eye medicine
My vision exceeds night-fantasy
The ground underfoot becomes
A living hue of the plumb and culprit grace

All-around, that we are sometimes blind to/
I have been lifted by Jupiter, to the highest throne
The dawn where love is more, than merely
A person, or a personal salvation

I am the criss-cross of splendour, a student
Of wishes that turn to subtle praise
For the exceeding wisdom in existence
Listen, for the light of my owlish grin.

29.4.2013

Children from Zones of Paradise


Sørkjosen

The Stars express around
Our fates like dwindling destiny
The Sun and Moon make their haste
Across our skies of personality

Why would that which is within
Not be without, and visa versa?
Of finer famines, I do not know
Astronomy and esoteric astrology

That points and shows, cosmic datastreams
That life’s nutrition is a matrix of relationships
Aspects, conjunctions, transits
These were the silver chronicles

Of the poor & far, patterns of our hearts
The veins and tissues of our baselines.