Her Fjord

Undo Ritual

2012-01-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

Vile
Parasitic producer of trash… you claim this universe by your flights of graze…
this or that form of summer foliage to/should adorn your
innards of orthodox decor

some fucking digit follows another…
an instant/graciously set
sentient bundle which performs a “you” points to/at
what accompaniment now, you harasser of sheep?

pecking at… pulling in jest …like it would fondle/harass a canvas
I wish a similar intrusion into your soul/your capacity for pain
Pain which you so easily spray on vegetal gaze
that some mutation made expectant …

Taken/understood tremor, nausea are rewards nature serves an unfortunate mutation

yet … this one’s choice of a robe drags on
celebrates freedom from meaning … still hijacks it to
exchange dead tissue
but never
you can never mean
spray
you only harass

Porn, Baroque, Butter

2011-06-30T07:08:00.000-07:00

In phase
holds a fan to
soft hours

Not turning up
I search
what limits to voluptuosness

There is no exchange
But I
have an idea for
a... great work of art
to accompany
the sense
that dispersed into
bullet proof turbans for sikh cops
into
synesthesia,tooth decay
which was always
Baroque

Its a lovely question
possibly a book of botany
that she holds

or
else apple juice
which has stayed for too long
outside
the wrestling hall

Orchard Falla

2010-04-24T08:47:00.000-07:00

...It came again despite failing quiver of my dry mouth
A pause...due west
traced that receding green line
and brilliant green eyes for heavy heart to weave
into super fresh morning scream of seagulls
Its spring
lost a jacket
better still I take a walk

Spring thaw (no Riffian)

2010-04-13T03:38:00.000-07:00

flexures impossible
in dream
in narrative
the very same my cloudy afternoons repressed
that tiny exit behind my knee
thirty one indoors-Campus Solna

Just over a hundred meters away an underpass offers a wounded escape
calls for prayer bells, Tibetan

on either side insignificance
yet the aftermath of that specific digestion performed on an odd purchase
set me waiting for god in a pendular rush of nothing steps

an "ooo fuck " expression when I almost stepped on a dead rabbit
did you think this up you sick bastard?
or is it just the spring thaw

frowned on
dare you, stretch to that in your vile dreams
your hair locks are bound too thick for the archangel

Tofu

2010-04-01T02:34:00.000-07:00

Hurrah-Chakra of the wrinkled Scandinavian
solarium set tones for
a kinder, gentler
even more egalitarian figure penetrates her kama-rupa

Its Sunday,
Sun?day but no need to bake righteous buns
oh hurry she said, the sun will set in 12 minutes
in 12 minutes she rushes out to sing delicious sutras

dark again so the wrinkles won't show
12 being an acquired immunity

Mohandas takes cover
a popular breed of fancy pigeon drops one
only a week later
I smell it and cut it out to paste over freshly squeezed
recollections of haste

Umbrella thorn acacia

2009-11-18T17:14:00.000-08:00

right earphone, right
no sound in it

left
...Koyaanisqatsi

9, 8, 7, 6, 5 pecking with dry lips to become
her Uganda (indigestion and fatigue dressed in
military pants)

real, throbbing, untamed will...(which invited
her smile, which interrupted my scream)
eli eli lama sabachthani

Instead
disquiet (cranial versus distal)
and "Naked" by Mike Leigh

...to frame(completely unconcerned)
I dont ask for compassion or woollen socks
I (intonation, wrong)

but every good play, every good song
needs an intro

...to Chardin's Bubble

2009-10-10T03:56:00.000-07:00

..the signifier at its most lyrical

which

of the seven cities of love should I

journey to tonight

which

righteous ancestral role should I enact

of the many past lives this
only remembers

5 minutes
and now that too is erased

as Swedish kroner exchanged for something with the taste of coconut
Lacan yoghurt (Jouissance fermented)

followed by more cups of tea

Lover's wind-Sublime

2009-08-30T00:56:00.000-07:00

Shot 1970, completed posthumously 1978.........
Albert Lamorisse died in a helicopter crash while filming what to me is the most haunting and poetic portrayal of an Iran dear to my imagination. The "narrators" of the film are the various winds (the warm, crimson, evil and lovers' winds), which according to folklore, inhabit Iran.

Kiitos Ubuweb for sharing this resource

Albertinkatu

2009-07-07T02:23:00.000-07:00

There was spring light or even hope was not offensive
so there they put up the scaffolds

Should this
half open mouth half stuffed with a dog
this lair
stare at no windows, none...?

for summer sun to intervene
and
wyrm to twist back into shapes favorable persuade

Yet
On bodies ran, blow jobs and blood
blood that ran slow over my envy filled my mouth, cant spit it out

Took off a t-shirt then, shivers puce
and now I resurrect my fear to cover this envy

been raining
Yet
metal cage and mortar stained plastic
wrapped round to serve droplets
gray

pregnant with none as all drops of milk
all sculpted sighs were out of tune

Go now have your fear again and half an idea from her
for a new hairdo
for prostitution
and
glorified gender concerns

Musk melon for my attention deficit while
an uncircumcised cock splits the transcendental signified
and fills in for six months of hair and half erect Iran

Sediments

2009-04-22T03:28:00.000-07:00

Stares at
More copied data
and not quite done

There is a desire for branches
a desire to not do more work than u have to
...mmm no
Its this magnificient wallpaper then
a resolution to be brought
ideological

Should have me pray sideways and operatic
sleep in strange places to
wake up with David Attenborough

Rehearsing new found species
habitats
and more copied data

Clawprints

2009-01-27T19:55:00.000-08:00

fullness, beauty that did not belong to her
Yet a day in summer was
the origin of species

Repeats now
Repeated prints
Give me that instant that fake reward

Give
Judo
drumsticks
boulders

Go to sleep I shall not chase none but now

The Pill versus ...Brautigan

2009-01-23T10:49:00.000-08:00

I go to bed in Los Angeles thinking

about you.

Pissing a few monents ago

I looked down at my penis

affectionately.

Knowing it has been inside

you twice today makes me

feel beautiful.

3 A.M.January 15, 1967

Richard Brautigan

Convergence

2009-01-13T18:29:00.000-08:00

Proceed with violence

2008-12-20T23:51:00.000-08:00

...attends to life for
weakness says i love you
facing all the joys which this wicked horizon kept composing
all this time i imagined cancer
though that same prostitute that same promise that same hope
I allowed her
to skate over my declared conscious worth
an absent but still cancerous growth

all that vivid reddish purple
strands, which i now learn can possibly be called
lavender, heliotrope, Mauve

but because the bus took an extreme turn I wouldnt lean on
or skate along with

ideas

Now,
Now, was then a cry and the music was their's
marked by a fabric so northern so woven around my secretly erect heart

In orbit and set forever to
repeat pickled lines copied from hypertexted lives
I wish to wish
and set apart my wonderous breath
from that of yours

who I wish only to remind that you could never care
and should never care

and its been done with hare krishna
more and more
I murder allen ginsberg and copy paste
rectum
pungent
Laughing
saffron robed

O dear, I shall be too late

2008-10-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

One of these ages I shall ...(I won't)
slide down, and
if the eye of the other becomes aware
it may shrink to ask,
was it all worth?
"the extra neglect" and the "indifference"

Splendor

2008-07-09T22:51:00.000-07:00

With time began a desire for decay
the arrival, the hour
and so murder became norm

Now
An overripe fruit decides to fall and so
dispatched its born into ...gravity
onwards
an end
landing
an end plain
the end then is wrapped around a core
this core we pray should remain dead
an intervention by this god
an earthquake in perception
an eruption
releases none

none does not arrive
none does not decay
none i cannot murder

93 (Wisdom in four episodes ) Part I

2008-05-11T03:50:00.000-07:00

when everyone you have ever loved is finally gone
when everything you have ever wanted is finally done with
when all of your nightmares are for a time obscured
as by a shining brainless beacon
or a blinding eclipse of the many terrible shapes of this world
when you are calm and joyful
and finally entirely alone
then in a great new darkness
you will finally execute your special plan

one needs to have a plan someone said who was turned away into the shadows
and who i had believed was sleeping or dead
imagine he said all the flesh that is eaten
the teeth tearing into it
the tongue tasting its savor
and the hunger for that taste
now take away that flesh he said
take away the teeth and the tongue
the taste and the hunger
take away everything as it is
that was my plan
my own special plan for this world
i listened to these words and yet i did not wonder
if this creature whom i had thought sleeping or dead would ever approach his vision
even in his deepest dreams
or his most lasting death
because i had heard of such plans such visions
and i knew they did not see far enough
but what was demanded in a way of a plan
needed to go beyond tongue and teeth and hunger and flesh
beyond the bones and the very dust of bones and the wind that would come to blow the dust away
and so i began to envision a darkness that was long before the dark of night
and a strangely shining light
that owed nothing to the light of day

that day may seem like other days
once more we feel the tiny legged trepidations
once more we are mangled by a great grinding fear
but that day will have no others after
no more worlds like this will follow
because i have a plan
a very special plan
no more worlds like this
no more days like that

there are but four ways to die a sardonic spirit might have said to me
there is dying that occurs relatively suddenly
there is dying that occurs relatively gradually
there is dying that occurs relatively painlessly
there is the death that is full of pain
thus by various means they are combined
the sudden and the gradual
the painless and the painful
to yield but four ways to die
and there are no others
even after the voice stopped speaking
I listened for it to speak again
after hours and day and years have passed
I listened for some further words
yet all I heard were the faintest echoes reminding me
there are no others
there are no others
was it then that I began to conceive for this world
a special plan?

Current 93 -I have a special plan for this world

Interpenetration

2008-02-07T23:33:00.000-08:00

"...
Come you lost Atoms to your Centre draw,
And be the Eternal Mirror that you saw:
Rays that have wander'd into Darkness wide
Return and back into your Sun subside...
Attar Nishapuri

Advertising contempt

2008-02-04T16:51:00.000-08:00

Philosophy of religion has finished downloading
So, I conclude physical suffering
is ...outside
there
a rose is taking off her garments
while the airconditioning of this room approaches an optimum

who is afraid of a dictate/mathematics
who i ask should tremble when dignity is offered

but one with full supply
Say Sundried fruits in Nordic

Oh I abhor all
and all I abhor is sundried past

Hiss

2008-01-30T21:22:00.000-08:00

"Opium teaches only one thing, which is
that aside from physical sufffering,
there is nothing real" André Malraux

Yearning and veneer

2007-11-26T02:50:00.000-08:00

… Air, its cold...not because,
and then to hold unpronounced against it all
Air is, and greater still
possible

Wrong turn

2007-11-08T03:25:00.000-08:00

Yade yad

2007-10-15T16:03:00.000-07:00

From The Quatrains of Baba Tahir Oryan of Hamadan:

If I am trapped in flesh and lust - I'm thine

And though I doubt your ways, or trust - I'm thine.

Whether to Christ I cling or Mazda's Wing

Behind these veils of dreams and dust - I'm thine

Continuum mechanics

2007-09-06T00:23:00.000-07:00

This one took to the wheelchair
for he feared to walk
Dare then its autumn now and
you wouldn't know a leaf

and that shade of brown, browner and decay
musical,
you said and over the wind...

love, love, love, its all expired
But then I'm semi relaxed for its the last exchange
Death, Nirvana, Satori and Kosher cheese
I needed,
needs,
please needs

Militant verses through the vent
prophet, perfumed and on a diet
Stylized and cured we now join
the multitudes
In that memory of a pure, primal joy

Symbolic Order / Vaginal cyclorama

2007-08-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

Strip away the hallucinatory and the fantasmatic, and sexuality disappears with it

Hardcore pornography haunts late capitalism, functioning as the cipher of a supposedly demystified, disillusioned 'reality'.
Hardcore trades on a kind of earnest literalism, a belief that there is some empirically specifiable 'it' which = sex in/as the real.

... famously posed, why aren't

And this brings us back to the function of veil in Islam: what if the true scandal this veil endeavors to obfuscate is not the feminine body hidden by it, but the INEXISTENCE of the feminine? What if, consequently, the ultimate function of the veil is precisely to sustain the illusion that there IS something, the substantial Thing, behind the veil? If, following Nietzsche’s equation of truth and woman, we transpose the feminine veil into the veil which conceals the ultimate Truth, the true stakes of the Muslim veil become even clearer. Woman is a treat because she stands for the “undecidability” of truth, for a succession of veils beneath which there is no ultimate hidden core; by veiling her, we create the illusion that there is, beneath the veil, the feminine Truth - the horrible truth of lie and deception, of course.

Ruminating on Baudrillard as quoted on k punk
and Zizek as spotted on lacan dot com

Powered by stormfront

2007-07-23T06:36:00.000-07:00

Always fascinated by an opportunity to read hidden opinions without suffering physical wounds the dude, Haoma (i.e yours truly) has for a few years now been an occasional reader of white nationalist forums. Being semi brown in the Nordic its amusing to picture how a manifestation of some of these could affect a self.

When a White girl marries a ...., her sun of life goes down,
And glaring spots of sun appear on her white wedding gown.
.........

All other crimes may be forgiven when prayer its power fulfills;
The scheming crook may find new hope, and even the man that kills;
But all my prayers can never clear my baby’s mongrel skin,
Nor make him White as driven snow, nor cleanse my soul of sin.

The Saddest Story Ever Told? (Distributed by NSWAP [National Socialist White Americans Party], ca. 1996).

Its interesting that the baby is male, and therefore can roam around corrupting more Aryan women bringing on a faster demise for the race

and now to contradict the tragic tone of that one

The Norse Man
Stands beside me,
Within the
Circle of life.
Serpents upon his arms,
We face the sea.
He is entering the spiral maze
Upon his thundering steed,
Into the garden within,
To plant the final seed.

Ivy Rolfsdottir, “Poem for a Norse Man” (flyer distributed by the WhiteRaven, ca. 1993).

… I wonder why is the seed, final?

Gamle Bybru

2007-06-30T21:35:00.000-07:00

12 attempts at capturing zen bamdad
...
the book was titled
"after the ecstacy, the laundary"
and no man therefore knows greater happiness

I, am
and all the ages of the universe
I retrace in the palm of my
schopenhauer,
Out the window there is
a willow tree, beed
Magnificent, resigned splendour
Of he
of me
motherly

Tender cough syrup

2007-06-17T17:53:00.000-07:00

Caress,
its morphine gently brushing this
corpse
erasing all trace of, ...all leftover taste of
all realities taught
all beautiful shades of
gregory corso

wearing another mask is called,
unmasking
classic name, an even better hairdo
I, an identity lost

a Woman Ascends the Stairs
another fresh faced teenage blonde just got on the bus
still you like it
so
crawl,
sweep...its not enough

Poems Castrated, some more

2007-05-07T08:23:00.000-07:00

Pasolini says Ah,
here in fragments of "Vittoria"

soul,

with your delicate anger!
You do not recognize a soul other than
this one
which has all the prose of the clever man,
of the revolutionary devoted to
the honest common man
(..)
you do not recognize the heart
that becomes slave to its enemy,
and goes
where the enemy goes,
led by a history
that is the history of both, and
makes them, deep down,perversely,
brothers;

you do not recognize the fears
of a consciousness that, by
struggling with the world,shares
the rules of the struggle
over the centuries, as through
a pessimism into which hopes
drown to become more virile.

Joyous with a joy that knows
no hidden agenda,
this army
-blind in the blind sunlight-of
dead young men comes
and waits.
If their father, their leader,
absorbed in a mysterious debate
with Power and bound
by its dialectics,
which history renews ceaselessly
-if he abandons them,
in the white mountains,
on the serene plains,
little by little
in the barbaric breasts of the sons,
hate becomes love of hate,
burning only in them, the few,
the chosen.

Ah, Desperation that knows no laws!
Ah, Anarchy, free love of Holiness,
with your valiant songs!

Poems Castrated, some

2007-05-07T08:17:00.000-07:00

#000 In "City That Does Not Sleep"
Lorca sings or warns

The living iguanas will come and bite
the men who do not dream
.........
.........
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and bitter wounds on fire.
No one is sleeping in this world.
No one, no one.

I have said it before.
No one is sleeping.
But if someone grows
too much moss on his temples
during the night,
open the stage trapdoors so he can see
in the moonlight
the lying goblets, and the poison,
and the skull of the theaters

*ofcourse this I only searched out after
the Timothy ‘Speed’ Levich"
scene from waking life

Untitled scream of frozen insects

2007-04-30T16:03:00.000-07:00

"He who loves but remaining chaste
in death from longing,
achieves the status of a martyr in ...
the carnival of impotency

Most of all...

2007-04-27T18:24:00.000-07:00

What literature needs most to tell and investigate today

are humanity's basic fears: the fear of being left outside,

and the fear of counting for nothing, and the feelings of

worthlessness that come with such fears; the collective

humiliations, vulnerabilities, slights, grievances,

sensitivities, and imagined insults, and the nationalist

boasts and inflations that are their next of kind ...

I dont even Know Pamuk and iam prejudiced enough to even

have an opinion without having read any of his stuff but the

above is part of his Nobel Lecture which is very nice in parts

like when he states

If I think back on the books to which I have devoted

my entire life, I am most surprised by those moments

when I have felt as if the sentences, dreams, and pages

that have made me so ecstatically happy have not come

from my own imagination – that another power has

found them and generously presented them to me.

from this I jumped to Naipul's Speech/Lecture, nOW this dude

I have read and therefore am even more prejudiced about

interesting enough its the same bloody zen knock on the drum

... Whatever extra there is in me at any given moment

isn't fully formed. I am hardly aware of it; it awaits the

next book. It will – with luck – come to me during the

actual writing, and it will take me by surprise. That

element of surprise is what I look for when I am writing.

then to support this he had quoted Proust

what a very slight degree of self-acquaintance teaches us

...(is)..that a book is the product of a different self from

the self we manifest in our habits, in our social life, in our

vices.

ok so conclusion and fast enough..."I" am not writing this

crapy "blog" it is that sweet
other,
so fart and all its someone else
and i hope he/she, "the almighty" choses to channel some

good shit through

Soliloquy For ...

2007-04-21T04:28:00.000-07:00

Palest of faces from North
I saw then and wept as in a

A dance
A Parade
A funeral

is all thats never been
a journey up her fjord
never should end
so ill sink it

and as was
dressed in a Bunad imaginary
should only vanish

so for eternity Ill function
as that hated player of harp/tar
with little skill and little poise
obsolete

Lilleby station

2007-04-21T04:26:00.000-07:00

Closing hours of a Finnish weekend, Meditations

2007-04-18T07:36:00.000-07:00

Satan resides in god
in mind resides a
spurt
A birth, a lifetime
a universe to play with and torture

Snake,
an endless coil of all ending in lies
lies, lies,
lies,
lies, lies, lies
lies that give birth to more lies
and never cease to breed more
lies that shielded my childhood
And the pretense that makes a victim
out of a soul a million years old

Iam with you ?ffodl this morning/now
collecting bottles and all

No more a martyr, no more a failure
Suicide I cannot
because its been tried
and as a lie among others
whats the hurry

Molavi

2007-04-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die
as Man,
to soar With angels blest;
but even from angelhood I must pass on:
all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul, I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh,
let me not exist!
for Non-existence Proclaims in organ tones,
To Him we shall return.