Babble of Love

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Skotitt

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Jolly Life of Sacred Hearts

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Van Gogh Lives in Our Big Little Hearts

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The karanuffeled

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The hebalduist

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The womselknaus

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A Letter to Our Dear Friends Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse

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Lola

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Archaeological discovery during an excavation deep in my soul with pick and shovel. Dated to 250 BC.

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Thunder and Lightning

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Flowers of Ballariutschka

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MODERN CREATIVITY (THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGIN’)
Creativity of the people in the 1960s:
The hippies, who make their own clothes,
paint their vehicles with flowers
and create their own language
of love, peace and understanding.
The soundtrack to it all:
The Beatles, The Doors,
The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix,
The Mamas and the Papas,
Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane,
The Woodstock Festival.
Creativity of the people in the 2020s:
Climate change and health awareness
and Woke and Covid-19 and vaccines
and political correctnes and AI
and censorship and smartphones
and waste sorting,
all of which are movements
fabricated by the governments.
The soundtrack to it all:
The mainstream media,
fabricated by the governments.

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CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE (PART III)
I dedicate this painting
to the elitist political force
of the 21st century.
They are the avant-garde artists
of our time,
coming up with one idea crazier than the other,
while the citizens walk around
staring at their smartphones
like zombies, lol.
While the world of art
and music
and literature,
has flattened out in the 21st century,
to become the establishment,
the bourgeoisie,
has the world of government science
stood up
to become an unpredictable force
of ground-breaking innovation.

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A Vague Memory

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Squinting in the Dark

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1,000 Men for Peggy Guggenheim

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Faster Than Lucky Luke’s Shadow

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Intelligent Art for Intelligent Men Who Do Weird Things with Their Penis

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Friends of the Free Form Hallucination



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A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

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The meaning of life: I’m in a world of idiots. Not to learn from idiocy, but to adapt to it and to be the idiot and die dumber than I was born, like everybody else.

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A konbrikkert phferlabs

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The Great Color Robbery

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The Pathos of Frozen Vegetables

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Be the Machine

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Check My Machine

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‘Til the Band Comes In

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Bish Bosch

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Tilt

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Climate of Hunter

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Night Flights

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The Childhood of a Leader (Original Soundtrack)

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The Drift

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Scott 4

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THE ART OF COPY AND PASTE
Poor Edvard Munch.
I watched the movie “Munch” (2023),
and they could not resist to make
a trendy movie about
a dead painter
from the 20th century
without adding smartphones
and multiculture
and a gender-crossing role to it,
with a woman playing the older Edvard Munch.
United Nations must be happy, lol,
and the World Health Organization,
and Bill Gates and Al Gore
and Joe Biden, etc.,
the political elite of the world,
with their political movements
of the 21st century being
written into the story
of one of the great
individualists
in art history.
I missed climate change
and electric cars,
to be honest,
and AI and waste sorting,
of course.

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RECYCLED MUNCH (21ST CENTURY GENIUS)
The modern genius Edvard Munch screaming
his heart out
at the neighbor,
who didn’t sort the waste
after they had eaten,
to prove that he is more than
a painting
and can also be politically correct
and say what everyone else
is saying,
to keep up with the times.
The young modern genius Edvard Munch,
on an evening on Karl Johan
in the 21st century,
talking on his smartphone
while walking steadfast
and busy
with distant eyes
and an absent-minded expression,
like everybody else
to prove that he is more than
a young painter
in the 19th century.
The old (excuse me: senior) modern genius Edvard Munch
cross-dressing,
to prove that he isn’t just
a man of the 20th century,
but also a woman of the 21st century.
The 21st century artistic genius Edvard Munch
throwing tomato soup on his painting
The Sun,
exibited at the University Aula of Oslo,
to protest oil paintings
and to show support for
the World Economic Forum’s concept
of climate change.

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Triptych



*
THURSDAY, MAY 9, 2024
I figured that if I was gonna make
a statue
of Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
for the likeable person he is,
I realized that I would have to do it now,
before he does something
I don’t approve of, lol.
When you write poetry,
all you have is now.
I’ve been aware of him since my youth,
he’s a Kennedy,
but I had never listened to what
he have to say
until the pandemic in 2020,
when he appeared in interviews
in alternative media
such as Brian Roses’s London Real
and other YouTube channels,
soon to be banned.
It was RFK, Jr. and Eric Clapton
and Van Morrison and Ian Brown
and Right Said Fred.
That was the team of famous people
against the establishment, lol,
besides Five Times August,
David Icke (and me;).
I started listening to him
and continued to do so.
It could be difficult,
because everything he said
was banned in the mainstream media,
so you had to be quick before
it disappeared.
When he launched his Presidential campaign
in the spring of 2023,
my immediate thought was that
he would be exactly the kind of person
that the – whole world
could need right now,
but at the same time
it seemed a little unlikely
that a person who is banned
and bullied
and demonized in public,
could pull that off.
But times have changed.
Step by step,
he finds his voters
and is now considered
a serious challenger
to Joe Biden and Donald Trump,
as an independent candidate.
I’m not American,
so I don’t know what their future hopes are,
but for my own part,
I just want to see a shift
in leadership
in the world,
away from the career psychopath
to a more sympathetic one ->
on Tuesday, November 5, 2024.

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Picture This

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Our Famous Story of the Famous Amateur Artist Eduardo Münch

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The Famous Amateur Artist Eduardo Münch Seen From a Different Point of View

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The Famous Amateur Artist Eduardo Münch Dancing to “Upside Down” with Diana Ross

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Asleep in a Sky with the Famous Amateur Artist Eduardo Münch after an Artistic Day

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Mirror Man

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Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller)

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Ice Cream for Crow

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Tennessee Toddy with Rocke-Pelle

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I’m Too Sexy for Right Said Fred

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The Practical Solution

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A Cellarful of Insects

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Curriculum vitae

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Memories of Buzz Aldrin

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The Four Moods of Jokkel and Stafari




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Scott Art (Again)

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Veranda Hippie Face

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In the Ears of the Eyes

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Eurovision Song Contest scenario: The two and almost only Michael Krohn of Raga Rockers rocking out and singing “The Lady in Red” in a duet with Chris de Burgh at Rockheim Hall of Fame.

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Triple Vision

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Composition

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Let There Be Light

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Jeg liker måten du barkbantrer 17. mai på knestammens albueblad mens du vaier i vindens lårnakkede flaggstang

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Shelter From the Storm

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Fast and Bulbous

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I Acted Like a Dustbin Lid

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In the Name of Joddelgrymph

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Spring Fever

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Little Sun Giant

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Summer’s Almost Gone

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The Winter Storm Between Us

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CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE (PART IV)
When people say that Norway
has such beautiful nature,
I think that –eh,
it was not made by Norwegians,
it was made by God himself,
it is his masterpiece.
If you want to see Norwegian nature
made by human hands,
don’t look at postcards
but take a walk in the forest
and see how the municipalities
cut down beautiful old-growth forest
and turn it into a battlefield
of vandalism.
If you really want to see beautiful Norway,
listen to the great music of Edvard Grieg,
read the great plays of Henrik Ibsen,
and look at the great paintings
of Edvard Munch.

*
SAD FACTS
As you can see from my writings,
I make no difference between human waste
and human trash.
A spade is a spade.
Whether I’m up to my neck in an underground sewage system
or up to my neck in a rotten society
makes no difference to me,
when I have to suffer for it.
I don’t care who you are
or what you are
or what you do,
how rich or poor you are
or what kind of education you have.
If you are not a sympathetic person,
I see no value in your being in this world.
I want to see you dead.
And I want to see your children dead too.
So that the tyrant is not passed on.
If you shoot a bullet through a beautiful tree,
you get away with it,
but if you put a bullet through the sick brain
of a piece of trash called a human being,
you have to take the penalty for it.
It’s the sad facts of this life.

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Singer-Songwriter

*
JOHN LENNON
Surrealism and dirty realism.
That’s what I’m trying to juggle.
Inspired by John Lennon,
for example.
The psychedelic “Strawberry Fields Forever”
and the personal “Mother”
and the political “The Luck of the Irish”
and the playful “I Am the Walrus”.
He was artistically rather eclectic.
The Beatles tried everything,
from rock’n’roll to the avant-garde.
It suits my own mind.
It’s whimsical.
He was pissed off at Paul McCartney
and wrote the nasty song “How Do You Sleep?”.
He loved McCartney,
of course,
but he meant it while he wrote
and recorded it.
I love how he captured this moment of anger
with words and music,
just like he captured his moments
of love and joy
with songs and music.
Also, I love the nonsensical wordplay
in his books “In His Own Write”
and “A Spaniard in the Works”,
and I also like his drawings.
I think that words and paintings
can be set against each other
and not just to harmonize.

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Dog Owl Moon Fish Song

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Hypocrites in the Sunset

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The Cockfighter

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Beetle Ed in the Green Grass of Home

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The Man Who Loved to Die

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Assholes United for Charity

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HOME COMPUTER
A special thanks to Paul Klee
and Wassily Kandinsky and Joan Miró
and Vincent van Gogh and Salvador Dalí
and Jackson Pollock and Pablo Picasso
and Don Van Vliet and Edvard Munch
and René Magritte and Andy Warhol
and Henri Matisse and Mark Rothko
and Max Ernst and Hariton Pushwagner
and Hieronymus Bosch and Leonardo da Vinci,
for creating a kind of art
that awakens the artist in me
and the desire to paint and draw.
In school,
growing up in Norway
in the 1970s and the 80s,
you didn’t learn about surrealism
or abstract art or pop art.
It was all about the craftmanship
of Lars Hertervig and Tidemand & Gude
and classic landscape painting
or the late 19th century works of Edvard Munch
like The Sick Child.
There was no place for silliness,
no place for playfulness,
no place for colors.
You learned that it wasn’t art.
It was kitsch.
You had to be serious.
You learned that artists were child prodigies.
They had created their first masterpieces
when they were eight.
They were geniuses.
As the only left-handed student
in the class
with a Christian teacher
who tried to force me to become right-handed,
because being left-handed was associated
with the devil,
writing and drawing became a clumsy nightmare.
I felt no joy in writing or drawing.
I hated it.
Later in adult life,
just to do my signature on a piece of paper,
was enough to give me flashbacks
to the misery
of writing and drawing
in school.
I steered clear of all jobs where I had to use a pen.
And also typewriters. Anything but writing.
It was only many years later,
when I got a home computer,
that I started writing poetry.
As with art,
I had learned about the wrong writers
in relation to myself
and who I am.
At school,
I learned about Henrik Wergeland and Arne Garborg
and poets who represented
the same traditional values
as the painters we learned about.
There was no place for Rock’N’Roll.
No place for the psychedelics.
No place for garage bands.
It was about being sane, serious, moderate, mature.
And I am neither.
I am not a conservative person.
It was only when I discovered
the Beat Generation of poets
that I was triggered to write myself.
I loved William S. Burroughs.
He influenced The Beatles and David Bowie.
I loved “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg.
And the legendary Norwegian writer Arild Nyquist.
Discovering him was like coming home to poetry.
A mate.
The intellectuals
talked about poetry
in terms of high level of quality,
as they characterized
the dreary poetry they liked themselves.
If you fell outside their context
of what a good poem is,
they got snotty and ignored you,
to show they are on a higher level than you are, lol.
In the military,
they placed me in the kitchen
because the tests beforehand
showed that I was color blind.
There wasn’t much else I could do.
It was a bad choice.
I hate cooking.
I became seriously ill there
and developed neurological problems
that never went away
but only got worse over the years
with ever-increasing pains
and tumors,
and half-blinding my right eye
with a blood clot.
I’m a wreck on disability benefits.
And painkillers.
But that’s another story.
It has nothing to do with what people think
of my poems and paintings.
It’s about the joy of discovering
the joy of doing something I hated,
just with different tools.
And here we are,
the color-blind left-handed disaster,
who couldn’t write,
couldn’t draw,
writing and drawing around the clock.

*
MORAL SPEECH POEM (FINGER-POINTING)
It’s a very youth-obsessed society,
when it comes to who is worth something
and who is not.
It can all be traced back to parents and grandparents,
who wants exclusive rights for their family,
including being ruthless
and making older people obsolete.
But I don’t live my life to serve your family.
Your children
are as much worth
in this world
as you as a parent
and/or grandparent
put into it
by treating people around you with respect.
If you don’t want
a mass-murdering psychopath
popping up out of the clear blue sky
and kill your children,
then you better start treating people
around you
with dignity,
so you don’t create a mirror of yourself
who come to kill your family.

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Eye of the Tiger

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Ivar Medaas øyne

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