I never did believe in God
Never knew if he’d believe in me
Never did pray to Jesus
Even if he could set me free
I was a lonely soul
just travelling through
But one day travellin
I happened upon you
Now I still don’t believe in God
But I sure do believe in you
Never did believe in God (Et spirituelt kjærlighetsdikt)
Om jeg skal være grusomt ærlig
Så er det stunder da jeg ønsker at det ikke fantes noe som heter mobiltelefon! Særdeles når det piper, ringer og prates overalt. Ja, jeg har mobil selv, og jeg innser at mobiltelefon kan være en nødvendighet.
Men det betyr ikke at jeg ikke kan irritere meg grønn når mobiltelefoner forårsaker støyforurensning verre enn å ha en jumbojet hylende rett i øra standby for et helt år…
Kristne på VGB føler seg forfulgt
Vel. Mange av dere kristne på VGB kan jo spørre dere selv hvorfor at dere blir kritisert? Kan det f.eks. være at dere benytter all den mulighet dere har til å stakkarsliggjøre de av oss som ikke deler deres tro? Ved å påstå at vi ikke er fri, ved at Satan har oss, osv,osv, osv?
Og er det da rart at dere ikke får respekt? Respekt er tross alt noe som man ikke bare kan gå rundt å kreve som ei bølle.. Respekt må også gis i likt monn. Det går begge veier, og gjelder oss alle.
Noe å tenke på kanskje?
Samtidig, å proklamere at deres tro er den eneste sannhet oppleves av mange som ganske sterk arroganse. Uansett om dere prøver å si at det ikke er dere som sier det, men det er Bibelen som påstår det.. Bibelen er skrevet av mennesker, og tolket av mennesker, dermed så blir det også MENNESKENE som tolker denne boka som bør stå for hva de påstår.. Å skylde på en Gud ikke alle tror på blir, ihverfall for meg, å virke som bortfeiging. At en ikke tør å stå for hva en selv sier
Tenk på det også
Down the Highway
I knew I one day would be travelling down the road. Going cross country, walking the endless prairie highway under the sun and watching the corn move in the breeze. With the walking cane in one hand and a backpack on my back I set out to travel across America ,to see the real America, hiking and walking. Cooking on the side of the road at night catching the occasional truck rolling down the highway
One night I got a lift with a big trucker. He was grounded like a man with reason, grounded to the earth,to the dust and asphalt. He could feel the road, the wheels rolling, the engine rumbling just as it was a part of his own body. «So, where are you heading?»; he asked me with a jovial voice while smiling and talking on the radio. «I don’t really know»; I replied while lighting up a cigarette, a Viceroy I think it was while coughing a bit as the acrid smoke reached my lungs. The cigarette had a taste which I had never felt before, but I would probably get used to it
He laughed and winked while turning the wheel, passing in on a back road «You’re one of those? One of them who just travels anywhere and nowhere?». I laughed nervously suddenly; «Seems so, where are we going?»
«Don’t worry»; he said with the gentlest smile I had ever seen on any trucker or man at all. «We’ll be on the highway again in no time, this’ll be quicker.». His answer put me at rest and yes, soon we were on the highway again leaving behind what seemed to be a big traffic jam.
How he did know I could only guess at. But he did know, and soon we had made quite a lot of miles with no hang up at all. Suddenly a small highway diner cropped up in the horizon, and he said «You can get a room for the night there, and some food.».
He stopped at the diner to drop me off. Before long the truck had disappeared into the night. The bell rang as I walked through the open door and a woman behind the desk caught my eyes. «So, what’ll be?» she said, with a weary smile. She’d probably been up all day and all night to serve the people who came in to eat, to drink and to rest. People just as diverse as my country, I could guess..
There were farmers from Montana, Yuppies from New York, Hippies from the west coast, and people you probably could spend the whole night guessing at their origins before they finally opened up to tell you. I sat down on a free chair and said «What’s tonight special?». «Fried Chicken with potatoes and Apple pie for desert»; she said.
Wendy was her name, at least if I could believe the name tag that hovered on her right breast. She was still a beauty, with short black hair and green eyes. «I’ll have that»; I smiled to her, and waited as she walked into the kitchen to relay the order. As I waited I glanced once more on the people sitting around. Small chatter filled the diner, about this’n’that.
On the radio a song with Johnny Cash was playing. The eternal man in black, with eyes that shot fire and voice straight from hell. I listened to the song, and began singing without noticing that I was doing it. At least not before I felt people eyeing me strangely. Turning towards them I said; «Haven’t you seen someone sing Johnny Cash-tunes before?».
Suddenly,behind me, a rough voice began singing the same tune, a big burly black guy in the back of the diner. I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears. A Negro actually liking country, and liking Cash.. I smiled at him, and he smiled back while motioning me to continue singing. Before long the whole diner was singing along, to the total surprise and amusement of Wendy as she came out with my order. The applause nearly wouldn’t stop when the song ended.
For the very first time I could feel real bonding, and that with total strangers. I turned to my dish and began eating, wondering how strange this was. That people, who otherwise would’ve never met, could bond in such a fashion to almost being friends. The dinner tasted incredible, I’d never tasted better chicken anywhere else. «Do you have a room?»; I asked Wendy as she passed by. «Yeah, it’s 15 dollars a night.». I paid up, and got the keys to their last vacant room.
The morning after I was set to enter the great highway again. I started walking down the road with renewed faith in myself and the country before me.
“Hvem der?”
"Hvem der?" hvisket hun
inn til mørket bak døra
en dør som skjulte
all verdens frykt
en gammel dør
brunmalt og hakkete
med en rusten dørklinke
"Hvem der?" spurte hun
blekt mens hun gikk
nærmere døra
nærmere redselen
mens svetten piplet
og stemmen skjelvet
likesom hånda hu holdt
utstrekt og ventende
"Hvem der?" ropte hun
idet hun åpnet døra
og forventet å få
all verdens terror
midt i trynet som
da en altfor nysgjerrig
Pandora åpnet den
beryktede boksen
"Hvem der?"
After the world changed
A dream was crushed
A hope smashed
A world forever changed
When the tyrannical
the hypocritical
and the idiots
of the empires
took command
and robbed freedom
killed our liberty
in order to get
a little order
a little security
Now we have fear
Now we have hate
for those who are different
Will that be our fate?
Or shall we take back
What we always should own
From the despots and tyrants
that we have grown?
Yell out a rallying cry
demand to know the reason why
Our freedom should die
On the altar of eternal lie
The tyrants say to us
we must be secure
So your freedoms must die for now
You all must endure
To have your voices bound
by the priests of secrecy
Those who salts the wound
The new and false aristocracy
That is what is the true terror
and the terrorists in reality
Those who truely in error
and spreads their bestiality
their fear and their compounded hate
because they wish to control OUR fate
by using their perverse twisted religions
picking US of like pidgeons
freedom forever desecrated
dissenst to terrorism equated
till no one no longer dare speak out
And fearsome silence by the devout
of the new geriatric theocracy
of power and religion instead of democracy
Night of the Courtesane
There’s a museum close to where I live, an old building that rises majestically above every other building.
The first time I went there I saw this painting. It hung on the western wall, and stood out from the rest of the paintings. She looked right straight back at me, a woman clad in the finest gown, and holding a fan in her gloved hand, demurely held up towards her face.
What I most remember was her face, exquisite like a marble doll. I fell in love with her, right then and there..Yeah, I know it seems strange to fall in love with a painting. But I just could not forget her face. After a few days I began wondering who she had been, where she had lived and what fate had befallen her. Thinking about her one night I suddenly fell asleep, and I dreamed.
Finding myself to be a gentleman of stature, I looked around the ballroom I suddenly was standing in. I could hear chamber music in the air and see people dancing. A hand touch my shoulder lightly and this sweet voice asked me; «Would you like to dance?».
She stood behind me, the lady from the painting. Smiling just as demurely, she gazed at me as if wanting to repeat the question. «I would be honored to dance with you, milady»; I replied and kissed her hand. Before long we were engaged in a sensual waltz, I lead while she followed lightly like she was a pixie in the summerbreeze.
Her gown was more exquisite than I had ever been able to interpret from the painting. It felt like the finest silk and velvet. Her skin, her hand, was warm. She played demure, but I could feel that she was of a wilder nature than she would let on. But most women would play that game, I felt.
The night went on, and we danced the hours away. Having eyes for no one else than us, everything else seemed to disappear. Nothing else really mattered that night. The ball eventually ended and I was invited to follow her to her estate. She had a cart worthy of an empress, the finest ebony with inlaid gold. We drank the best wine while the cart rolled away into the night, so that when we came to her estate we both had become quite tipsy to be honest. After stumbling our way up the avenue, her servant let us both in.
«Would you like to join me in my boudoir, my good sir?»; her eyes twinkled towards me with a wickedness that surprised me, honestly speaking. She led me up to her evening-room on the second-floor. The room was lavishly furnished with dark red velvet carpets and curtains, gold-plated chairs with velvet pillows, a soft double bed that made promises for a very good night indeed. «I never got your name, milady»; I said while I helped her slowly undress herself. She had turned her back to me so that I could unlace her corset.
Her gown was already on the floor, leaving me with full view with her perfect legs, thighs, back, shoulders, neck. I kissed her neck and felt the perfume she was wearing, an enticing and alluring scent. Slowly and expectantly I unlaced her corset,revealing more and more of the delicate flesh within. «I never did tell you my name either, my good sir»; she said while turning around.
She was completely naked now, her body shone towards me. Two ample breasts, a slim tummy and hips from the stuff of dreams. She stretched herself over her bed, while playing with her pussy. As I moved towards her bed she suddenly said; «Not yet, my boy, only watch».
And I watched, feeling my organ harden while doing so, as she played with herself, closing her eyes and moaning low each time she touch a particularly sensitive spot on her body. She invited me to sit on the bed with her, stroking herself as well as stroking me. Slowly driving me mad with desire, she enticed me further and further. But always in her pace, always on her terms.
Willingly I continued her play, following her every move, her every lead. She laid her left hand on my head and laid it between her breasts, whereupon I kissed them both with a hunger greater than I had ever felt before. No doubt she knew how to enthrall men with her alluring attraction.
She had me completely in her control, mercilessly. She slowly stood up and began undressing me even more slowly than I had her, removing my frock first and then unbuttoning my silk shirt, one button at a time.
After removing my frock and shirt she gently pushed me back and began removing my trousers. I could hear the velvet rub against my skin , making me even more aroused. She smiled as my Don Thomas revealed himself, straight as a soldier on guard. Tickling it lightly, her touch sent shivers of pleasure up and down my spine like lightning bolts through my body.
Continuing with that for a long time, he had me captivated by desire unfulfilled before she slowly straddled me. We spent rest of the night making such love that I had never felt before. I wasn’t sure which was better, the foreplay or the actual lovemaking. Before long we were both asleep on the bed.
When I woke up I was in my own couch again, fully dressed in my modern-day clothes wondering where I was and what had happened. It took a few minutes before I realized that I had only dreamed. As it was still night I decided to go to the bedroom and rest.
The next morning I wandered over to the museum to take another look at the painting, only to find that it was gone. I asked the guard about the painting. «Oh, that painting, oh yes, that was sold just after you left. A truly exquisite painting. Do you know who the lady was?».. I shook my head. He told me the story..
The woman had been one of the courtesans of King Louis XIV, one of the many he enjoyed during his lifetimes.
In fact, she had been his favorite courtesane. But she met an unfortunate end when she was caught having relationship with an unknown man in the court. King Louis XIV had her imprisoned and then beheaded as a punishment.
Her name was Jeanette, but her unknown consort became just that.. unknown. No one knows what became of him or if his name ever was revealed.. All that is known is that they only had one night together, a night of incredible passion
I was stunned by his story. Was this dream more than a dream? To this day I have never really found out. But I choose to think that maybe, just maybe, that night I became her consort.
There was this one thing I never told anyone before now. After the dream that night, I found something lying in my pocket. A white lace-glove, like those fine ladies would wear in the time of Louis XIV. And to this day I still keep it, as a keepsake.
Subway-Poem
I’m sitting on the subway
Going the wrong way
never stopping at a bus-stop
never getting off at the top
A guy’s looking at me
A black guy with a grey beard
On the seat beside him lies a turd
Someone peed on a t-shirt
lying on the floor stinking
gets me thinking
What am I doing here?
Yeah, What am I doing
riding on this subway
with flickering lights
gang-members instigating fights
shooting up the place
Cops spraying them with mace
Tossing people to the floor
Cracking skulls of the poor
What am I doing?
Where is the Subway Jesus
and the church of Subway Salvation
When comes the day of Tribulation
When the Subway God gets me
saves me from this Subway hell?
Maybe it is just as well
I don’t believe in God anyway
Haven’t prayed one single day
of my fucking stinking life
And I never had a wife
So I continue to ride this subway
maybe I’ll go the right way
for a change. I’m sitting on the subway
Going the wrong way
never stopping at a bus-stop
never getting off at the top
A guy’s looking at me
A black guy with a grey beard
On the seat beside him lies a turd
Someone peed on a t-shirt
lying on the floor stinking
gets me thinking
What am I doing here?
Yeah, What am I doing
riding on this subway
with flickering lights
gang-members instigating fights
shooting up the place
Cops spraying them with mace
Tossing people to the floor
Cracking skulls of the poor
What am I doing?
Where is the Subway Jesus
and the church of Subway Salvation
When comes the day of Tribulation
When the Subway God gets me
saves me from this Subway hell?
Maybe it is just as well
I don’t believe in God anyway
Haven’t prayed one single day
of my fucking stinking life
And I never had a wife
So I continue to ride this subway
maybe I’ll go the right way
for a change.
Den siste Coop Mega-reklamen
Noen som har sett den? Den med de folka som sitter og har seg en bedre middag. også er det ei dame som spør etter Guacamole og Salsa, og mannen som får spørsmålet har ikke det fjerneste peil hva hu prater om..
Det jeg undra er hvor den karakteren hadde vært de siste 100 åra:)
Trur liksom ikke at det er såååå veldig mange som ikke veit hva
guacamole og salsa er nå for tida..*hehe*
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