2009 – 2011

 Sundress, Sommaren Klänning, Flicka, Kvinna, Ben, Skog
Juvenile drivel with a pinch of sarcasm 23 november 2009

At 4 o’clock in, for some of you for me not, morning my thoughts among many is as follows.
Society, you know all those nameless adults, says to kids;

Don’t drink alcohol – it will kill your liver.

Don’t smoke – it will kill your lungs.

Don’t do drugs – it will kill your brain.

And sex, don’t you dare! But if you do, use two condoms. No wait, make it three – STDs will kill your reputation.

So while society kills all the fun I think we should say;
Do not play house kids – it’s not all what it’s cracked up to be and could very well end up killing your dreams and ambitions.

Buttons meant to unbutton29 november 2009

Okay, so there’s an ache. But hardly like her heart would break,
no a heart she’d put up on a dare.
She’s not feeling there, not feeling herself anywhere.

That’s why that old familiar yearning perpetrates her blood,
one of blizzard kept between sheerest palest skin.

Between her legs it arose and would not let her sleep, twist and twirl was all she did.
Water and beer became the same,
what she needed was of the human kind.

For once she did not seek to play, just old-fashioned sought after penetrating lay.
Socks on floor, a brassiere that disappeared.

Buttons meant to unbutton you know

Elegy To Those Who Are No More -To Those We Used To Be 23 december 2009

Do you still dance old friend? On my retina the flick plays, at the clubs heads turned from all and one. A twinkle from your eye was a sure kill.

Has your body changed like mine? I wonder but think not.

Does he touch you like you dreamed of? Always yearned for? I hope so dearest but cannot help believe that you’re still lying to yourself and says that it’s your own fault.

I laugh from time to time you know, I’m pleased to tell. And you sweetness, have you found another small feet friend to fill my shoes? I hope for yes and no, love also means jealousy. Especially when one no longer has a place.

My record collection has grown, so has my family. Sometimes I wonder if you have a beautiful baby by now. Maybe more.

My hair is an experiment as it been since we meet, warm fall years ago. Did you ever cut that long angelic hair of yours?

We moved so many times didn’t we, rooms in a haze.

I will write again. Soon. I suppose you won’t answer that letter either. That’s okay I think. I ask if you also write me sometimes. The letters we never sent on right.

In the core of things we will be different but always the same. Indian princesses roaming the streets looking for a place where our bodies feel safe and our unique minds put to use.

The armor of steal gets heavy. I’d carry it forever if I could protect you.
This time around I’d do right by you.

The life you have is yours and yours alone. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise. Not even me.

I wish you still walk with the hope I always saw but could not acquire for myself.
Be proud honey, but don’t make it a burden.
Be scared but only for a few things, and don’t be it alone.
Feel sad, but no longer than you must – as you always told me.

Just be happy and god damned just be human.

 Fairies, Älva, Fantasy, Cartoon, Elf, Kvinnliga, Fiktiv
When Tinkerbell gets high and dances within my blood 4 februari 2010

When Tinkerbell gets high and dances within my blood.

Through moments of clarity the question reside.
Was the fallen pendant of power the initiator of this state of confusion?

Picture Tinkerbelle high on e dancing and twirling in your bloodstream.
So dizzy but voice so loud speaking without breath.

Nobody understands her brilliance but her words explain the whole world.
She just doesn’t care. She is right.
But in a moment she forgets about what.

She care not of this either because in her mind thousand thoughts further spins.
All without ending takes over. Twirl. Twirl.

Her clothes are on backwards. Ballerina shoes dangerously untied.
A fall unavoidable we see. Tinkerbell only takes a leap.
To pieces she descends. But it is all alright.
She laughs. She cries.
Laugh. Cries.
Laugh. Cries.
Laugh. Cries.

Sweet innocent Tinkerbell.

Mania comes in such unexpected silhouettes.

Double-Faced Monolog 7 februari 2010

”I’ve got a lot to say you know”, she said.

“I know”, she answered herself in a tired voice.

“What is the matter with you, we need words, don’t you get that!” the woman spat out.
Fast, like from nowhere her hand smacked her own cheek. Provoked she shouted;
“You have no right to be tired”.

“I know, I know”, she said to herself in the same quite tone and then silently added; “But today I am”.

Swift on her feet the woman started marching around in a circle like a general of war.
Suddenly she stopped, her voice vibrated over the before calm lake just like the water was an extension of her own blood.

“I have the questions”, she yelled, cursing herself out. “I can find the answers too, you know it don’t you. I know you do”, her voice had turned softer. Like a confident lover, a trustful mother, a strong leader she whispered; “Promise” and stroked away the strings of hair covering the red mark her hand had left on her face. Arms around her own body, in waiting the woman sat by herself.
Split between what was and what could be.
And what was not.

Today 17 april 2010

Today I walked with my husband supposed to be.
It was just us in a city preparing for weekend.
The sun was bright,
no volcano ashes in our eyes.

He told me about an airplane blistered by particles,
It glowed when touched ground again.
I think I too glowed a bit today.

When we sat at the café,
chatting about politics,
laughing together.
Maybe I also felt the ground beneath my Polk dot shoes.

It was a smooth landing today.

Him and Not so lovable 11 maj 2010

Him and Not so lovable

He got courage. I know you do not see.
I know this because 
he does not know it

I am not weak.
But still
many before left me in the dirty dark dust
Of my fall.

He can not stop nor save me,
But the small sharp
Of the human I am
Tender he pick from the ground.

Preserving me.

Check my pulse,
Reassure there’s plenty of air to breath,
plenty of life to keep

Courage to love the
Not so lovable.
Wish he knew
how rare
under this luna of

On the Road 24 maj 2010

Years roll by, our lives slowly tighten to each other.
Nights you sleep in our bed in peace. No knife has divided it.
Nights I stare through the smoke upon the sky.
But I cannot stand to be weak in front of you.
I know.

Know you can see when I crawl.
And I hate
Hate hate
That you know.

Others left for less
Than I did you.
Less so less.

I am false.
Around you the lies become obvious.
Standing in the dark, or
mess up our home.
So you can see me trying.

But in chaos of possessions and
tempting demons
Our ship weighs down and longing for open waters emerge in hearts and weary bodies.

Ahmed said during a stroll; certain people live by the cycle of the moon.
They cannot help it he said and I agreed.
Forgotten that I too was branded.

Never wrote about love when I lived it.
Only when it had moved on.
You altered my spirit
Now I write from on the road.

Writing Runaway with Condolences 31 oktober 2010

The strange nights still appear.

Walk quiet but no one is the silence for.


Glance at all the books, fingertips touch as if they were warmth in themselves.

Touching parts of life that they are.


I do not know what the electric shocks will leave me,

I do not know what is wrong with the stupid cell test.

I do not know much anymore, unavoidable I see signs of age creeping on.


My writing is a stray,

and the story lost its sharpness.

I will start over.

But not tonight.


I put condolences in a book.

Six years and winter is approaching.

Looking for arms where I spit.

File under Thievery 23 november 2010

File under Thievery

Days leave but treachery, that remains for ever and a day.

She looks at him through the television screen.

She looks at a stranger.

The stranger that fathered her child.


A man she loved to the point of being paralyzed,

nothing funny or clever she seemed to say.


But she just wanted to rest, couldn’t he have let her learn to breath

under the cover of his devotion.

Under care and

benefit of the doubt.


Now she stares at the TV set, him and his love.

A love that is not her.

Have not seen him for…at least a year,

by choice.

Wonder if he understands that it ripples her heart,

that it blows her back to the kiss he didn’t put on her temple.

Back to the maternity room where his hand never stroked hers.


Too complicating she was back then.

Tonight she’s complicated and proud of it.

Lilith Castor Emmeline 30 januari 2011

At 8.37 am on the 30th of January green dressed people gently carved an opening for you to exit my belly and enter this world. I did not feel a thing. When you where placed in my arms for the very first time I felt everything and everything was you. And so it will always be.


Life, I believe, is not to be absolute.

It is to feel trust in yourself, trust builds courage and courage will let you see the whole world even if you never move an inch.

But you won’t stand still because trust and courage will provide you with the gift of sense.

Together these virtues will let you see the people whom walk this earth with you, if you choose to do so.


Lily, it is not easy on either heart or mind to be a mother.

I want to give you all there is but without spoiling you silly.

I want to be soft, but not too soft because it will do none of us good.

I want to be stern but not hard, to guide you towards decency but not to be elitist or overbearing.

I want for you to only see good things but I don’t wish for you to be overwhelmed by the reality of human nature – we are all created by good and bad and only you can decide which is which and what that means to you.

I don’t want you to see any obstacles but you do need to be aware that life also has its times of struggles. And so it is for everyone else too.

Foremost I hope to give you a painless beginning in feeling love for yourself. Never question it, acknowledge it in full but without becoming full of yourself. My only advice is to share love, it is a powerful experience made to enjoy over and over again but not to be taken for granted.


I still place my fingers inside your little warm hand when you sleep and grind your teeth next to me and I wonder what higher powers gave me the grace of knowing you.


Go and go back, make up your mind and change it, think you’re right but admit when not, fall in love fall out of love and fall back in again.


Remember to choose, sweet child. That I think may be the most important responsibility you get in life and the core of who you’ll be in this world.


So let’s get this party started then!

Love/ Mom


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