Category: Billeddikt XIII

• Billeddikt XIII

  The World

  

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  Prayer

  

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  Mountain Grip

  

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  Psych Dance

  

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  Painting in the Dark

  

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  On the Tiptoe of the Nose

  

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  THE POSTWAR GENIUS

  A genius of the 60s, a genius of the 70s,
  a genius of the 80s, a genius of the 90s,
  a rock’n’roll genius,
  they all grew up in the rock’n’roll era,
  you rock, man!
  you rock, woman!
  took over the charge of the world,
  and they wanted to make the world
  a better place
  for all,
  so when they entered the pub,
  they noticed that people were drinking and smoking
  and laughing and rocking
  and having fun,
  and all the postwar geniuses said:
  “This is not good for their health,
  this is not good for our children,
  we must ban smoking,
  we must ban drinking,
  we must scare and bully the people
  who like to do this,
  to make the world a better place
  for us all!”

  A genius of the 60s, a genius of the 70s,
  a genius of the 80s, a genius of the 90s,
  a rock’n’roll genius,
  they all grew up in the rock’n’roll era,
  you rock, man!
  you rock, woman!
  took over the charge of the world,
  and they wanted to make the world
  a better place
  for all,
  so when they entered the public toilets,
  they noticed that some people went into
  a door where it read “women”
  and “men” on the other,
  and all the postwar geniuses said:
  This is toxic masculinity,
  this is toxic femininity,
  we must ban gender
  and make everybody
  use the same toilet
  to make the world a better place
  for us all!”

  A genius of the 60s, a genius of the 70s,
  a genius of the 80s, a genius of the 90s,
  a rock’n’roll genius,
  they all grew up in the rock’n’roll era,
  you rock, man!
  you rock, woman!
  took over the charge of the world,
  and they wanted to make the world
  a better place
  for all,
  so when they entered the street
  full of homeless people
  and drug addicts,
  all the postwar geniuses said:
  Let’s ban this from mainstream media
  and pretend that it isn’t happening,
  beacause this is not what people want
  to see on TV,
  let’s just show the rich and famous
  and the celebrities and the actors
  who knows how to smile
  and look happy,
  to make the world a better place
  for us all!”

  A genius of the 60s, a genius of the 70s,
  a genius of the 80s, a genius of the 90s,
  a rock’n’roll genius,
  they all grew up in the rock’n’roll era,
  you rock, man!
  you rock, woman!
  took over the charge of the world,
  and they wanted to make the world
  a better place
  for all,
  so when a lone individual
  with a guitar and a rock song
  entered their rock’n’roll world
  and sang:
  “I disagree with you!”,
  all the postwar geniuses said:
  We will ban you and shame you
  and censor you,
  we will ruin your life
  and make it hell for you,
  to make the world a better place
  for us all!”

  

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  Boat on the Hill

  

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  The Eyes of Quavaviddelidoddor

  

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  Life

  

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  The Bible

  

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  Cruising with Frank Zappa

  

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  The knottelvekt

  

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  A GRAVELLY VOICE (IN SINGING BROKEN ENGLISH)

  I want to pay a tribute to death.
  I love to read the list of recent deaths on Wikipedia.
  “I am important”, we all used to think,
  looking down on the homeless
  instead of helping them,
  we didn’t see the helplessness, just a loser.
  The only empathy we had,
  was for ourselves.
  It didn’t take much to become a whiny coward.
  It was enough to have the flu,
  or the common cold.
  But the only thing left
  of our self-importance now,
  is a small pile of ashes
  like an ashtray after smoking a cigarette,
  ready for the vacuum cleaner.
  The only intelligent life to be found
  in what’s left of our brain,
  is the IQ of a bacteria.
  There is justice in this world.
  More than anything,
  we were cancer to our surroundings,
  inflicting pain and misery wherever we went,
  causing stress and anxiety
  at every corner.
  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
  In the moment,
  it served ourselves well
  to be an intolerant asshole,
  rather than love, peace and understanding.
  Only ever appreciative
  of the services a person could give us,
  never for the person in itself.
  The only thing we knew about love,
  was the acting we watched
  in a romantic Hollywood movie.
  We all deserve to die.
  It’s a gift to the world.
  It’s all of us strangers
  who pay the dues
  for the damage we have done
  while we were here.
  Dead and forgotten,
  never to return.
  Not missed,
  only replaced on an assembly line
  with no heart, no soul,
  created by our own indifference
  to our fellow human beings.
  By treating each other like nothing,
  in the end we became – nothing.
  R.I.P.

  

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  Florierte heusetter

  

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  TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY

  I dedicate this painting to Neurontin/Gabapentin. The medication I was on for my neuropathic pain when I had a blot clot in my right eye in April 2014. I had been on it since January that year. The neurologist didn’t even mention it when I arrived at the hospital with one eye half blinded by a thrombosis. They were obsessed with cigarettes, tobacco, that was the witch-hunt of the day. But the medicine was discontinued without them mentioning why. It was years later, after the Covid-vaccine, that I accidentally came across the connection. It can be googled. So.. I don’t know! I’ve been on a million other meds since, but because of the link, just like I had been going to a chiropractor for a month when I got severe tinnitus in December 2015, I don’t anymore. I am made of bad luck. It doesn’t matter what I do, lol.

  

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  Voffelbær i skyggen av en kankvikkel

  

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  Upside

  

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  Down

  

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  Around the World on a Flat Day

  

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  The Floppy Boot Stomp with Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band

  

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  PIPE SMOKING POETRY

  I just had to put Malcolm Guite’s head on a bust.
  I borrowed a pipe from René Magritte,
  although he might say it’s not a pipe.

  Once in a while,
  I come across a person who oozes soul
  and warmth
  and personality,
  like Spiritual Unfoldment with John Butler.
  It’s not often anymore.
  It’s the sad development of the 21st century.

  Whether you are a clerk
  or a rock musician,
  or a writer or a politician,
  or a painter or a businessman, etc.

  it makes no difference.
  It’s all the same conformity.

  And that’s why discovering Malcolm Guite
  is such a breath of fresh air.

  Here is a link to his homepage:
  https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/

  Here is a link to his YouTube channel:
  https://www.youtube.com/@MalcolmGuitespell

  

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  Waiting for the Sky

  

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  On the Purple Mountains of the Silver Jews

  

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  In the Fishy Land of AVG AntiVirus and CIA Spyware

  

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  To Hell with Career Psychopaths

  

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  Occult Membership of Tinalingus

  

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  DEDICATION MEDITATION

  I dedicate this painting to the simplicity of life.
  I dedicate it to the table
  and the chair
  and the computer screen.
  The table is perfect for a cup of coffee,
  but sometimes I want to smash it on the brick wall,
  because I’m mad at something
  that lives in my mind.
  But a table is a table,
  it’s just different approaches on how to use it,
  depending on the mood.
  I sit in my chair,
  but never comfortably,
  because I have problems with my body.
  But a chair is a chair,
  and whether I sit well or not does not change it.
  The only thing that change
  the chair
  is my experience of having good days
  and bad days
  sitting in it.
  I look at the computer screen,
  and if I haven’t turned it on yet,
  it’s a black mass,
  or an elephant yodeling in the Alps,
  if I use it as a canvas
  for my imagination.
  But if I switch it on and go on the internet,
  I will usually see footage
  from places in the world
  where I am not.
  I might see chaos,
  it might worry me,
  but a screen is a screen,
  and no matter what I sit and watch,
  it must not be confused with the current reality
  that I am sitting in a chair
  with a table and a computer screen on it,
  and that’s it, for now.

  

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  The Good Guys in Sunrise

  

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  The Good Guys in Sunset

  

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  Avhengig av dinosaurusmidler

  

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  Euforisaurus

  

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  Schnitzelbaph in the Morning

  

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  Skvattelkopf in Blue

  

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  Miles Smiles

  

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  Aura

  

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  In a Silent Way

  

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  Kind of Blue

  

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  E.S.P.

  

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  Sketches of Spain

  

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  Still Life with Covid-19

  

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  The Simplicity of Life

  

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  Walking on Thin Eyes

  

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  How High the Spacecrafted Israel Jellyfish Moon Over the Wave Cloudy Palestine Street Golden Hair of Soft Sunny Flatterpilk at the Myrnothomecia cromaps

  

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  “Most people love you for who you pretend to be.” – Jim Morrison

  

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  POETRY RECOMMENDATION

  If I was to recommend a Norwegian poet,
  it would be André Bjerke (1918-1985).
  I have lived a very strange life,
  it just happened that way,
  I’m not much of a Norwegian, lol,
  in the terms of Ola and Kari,
  the well-adjusted regular people,
  I’m not much of a scholard either,
  the academics,
  who hijacked the poetry
  in the latter half of the 20th Century.
  All these conformists
  who live their life by the book of science,
  and the only way for them to be original,
  is to make a random mess of words
  that according to themselves
  are on such a high level of philopsophy
  that I’m too dumb to understand it,
  because I don’t have a university education.
  Well, I can tell you this –
  (in broken English),
  I am a true original, and I can prove it,
  if you want your facts and statistics,
  I have lived the life of an original,
  a true outsider,
  and whatever these wannabees
  are trying to write,
  trying to say,
  it’s got nothing to do with me.
  I don’t exist in modern Norwegian poetry.
  But André Bjerke.
  He didn’t try so hard to be original,
  he didn’t try to be a scholard,
  an academic.
  He loved his rhymes
  and traditional verses.
  He just tried to be himself,
  just like I do,
  it’s a lot harder than pretending
  to be an original,
  or pretending to be normal,
  for that matter,
  and that’s where we meet each other
  in his poetry,
  even if our lives are poles apart.

  

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  Litt plupsete Today at the Pimpel och das Pomp

  

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  Normies of the Sun

  

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  A Night Like This

  

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  Lepsenkvald

  

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  The Tempest

  

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  The Universe Never Forgets

  

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  Leonardo da Vinci

  

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  I spilles Algorithm padriller

  

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  WHEN EVERYTHING IS ART

  If a bus runs over you,
  and you lie there in the middle of the road,
  with broken legs and arms
  and bleading to death,
  do you want an audience to come and watch it,
  who will clap their hands
  and call it a piece of art,
  or do you want people to call it an accident
  and call the ambulance?

  

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  Okay. I admit it (someone has to do the shitty jobs). I’m a sexist, a racist and a pedophile. What are you gonna do about it?

  

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  Vaffelknute

  

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  Adagio

  

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  Allegro

  

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  Sanüchtelkranz

  

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  Van-gopplerwaltz

  

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  BUST OF HOUSE MOUSE

  When Scott the dog was alive,
  the mice in the house
  during wintertime
  weren’t that visible,
  but once he was gone,
  they became more active.
  Occasionally,
  I came across Scott
  in the kitchen,
  looking as if he had just
  seen a UFO,
  and I guess it was a mouse
  that had run past him.
  There was no danger.
  Scott the Cairn Terrier
  loved guests.
  The problem arose when the guests
  wanted to leave,
  and not when they arrived.
  He sat down in front of the door,
  and like a snarling tiger,
  refused to let them out.
  It’s more difficult with mice
  than with humans,
  since they don’t use the door
  to come and go.
  After we lost Scott,
  I started being up more at night.
  I am a night owl.
  I am also a heavy coffee drinker.
  There will be a few trips
  to the kitchen during the night.
  Sometimes I surprised a mouse
  standing on the kitchen counter
  eating the bread.
  It’s not that appetizing,
  so I replaced the bread with a new one.
  I took some pieces of bread
  and some cheese
  and put it on the floor,
  in the corner under the kitchen sink,
  to see if they would take it.
  And they did.
  I also noticed that they stopped
  climbing up to the kitchen counter
  when they got food on the floor.
  So I started giving them all kinds
  of nuts and bread and cheese.
  When I came up to the kitchen,
  the mice started to become more social.
  They came out and in their own way
  to show gratitude.
  They were playful, bouncy, happy,
  and thumped their tails loudly
  against the walls
  to show their presence.
  Then disaster struck.
  Since they trusted me at night,
  they also began to trust my mother
  during the day.
  And then the traps came up.
  One after another.
  And I had to take them out.
  I hated it.
  And this has been repeated
  for several winters.
  I make friends with the mice,
  only to find them dead in the trap.
  I have tried to tell my mother
  that mice have children
  and family and friends,
  like everyone else.
  It’s the children
  who fall into the trap first,
  because they are the most curious.
  But to no avail.
  She has grown up with the view
  that mice are pests,
  and can’t handle having them
  in the house.
  It’s her kitchen.
  To look on the bright side,
  I’ve gotten to know mice
  in a way I didn’t know was possible.
  I also grew up with the propaganda.
  This twisted truth about mice
  to justify killing them.
  They are sweet and kind,
  and make me so happy,
  but live a life of constant danger.

  Here is a link to a channel on YouTube called George Mouse.
  He has converted his garden into a mouse village:

  https://www.youtube.com/@GeorgetheMouseinalogpilehouse

  

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  Saved

  

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  Advanced Music for Advanced People

  

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  Step Up

  

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  Step Down

  

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  World War III

  

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  Worldwide Suicide

  

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  ABOVE THE LAW

  The billionaire globalists
  in charge,
  can nuke London and New York
  without it affecting their lives.
  They don’t live in our world,
  they live in their own privileged bubble
  protected by armed bodyguards.
  They don’t care about nationality.
  They are globalists
  and yearly switches between
  their fifty luxurious mansions
  around the world,
  traveling in their private jets
  and yachts.
  They can wipe Germany
  off the map of the world,
  and laugh all the way
  to the online bank
  on their computer.
  They can rule the world
  with technology,
  and no one knows if they are
  in China
  or the United States.
  They can strategically
  bomb Europe
  while on the other side
  of the world.
  They can adapt a World War III
  to their own needs,
  to the convenience
  of the conqueror psychopath,
  of the conqueror sociopath,
  that they all are.
  They invented climate change.
  Covid-19. The vaccines.
  9/11. Terrorism.
  Take note: They are anti-smoking.
  And vegetarians.
  These people are ruthless.
  They are above the law.
  They go to the Philippines
  to rape five year old
  girls and boys
  and then kill them,
  as a hobby,
  a ritual,
  and an exercise
  in no mercy.
  They are the boss now.
  The people’s choice.
  

  

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  Nuclear Winter

  

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  Nuclear Summer

  

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  In a not so distant future? when they have managed to construct a reason to justify to bomb and ravage Europe and Norway, to create chaos and refugee flows the other way, to mix the world into a global multi-culture, I’m not going to have the Aryan strength to emigrate to Iraq, lol. I have enough with a walk in the local area.

  

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  Wave of Evil (21st Century Schizoid Man)

  

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  Burning Hatred

  

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  Memories of Gardermoen

  

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  Just Another 21st Century Self-Absorbed Uncharming Superman Übermensch Narcissistic Pure Evil Goodhearted Bitchy Unfunny Comedic Genius (Who Wants to Make the World a Better Place for Us All!)

  

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  Back to Schniebelpipp

  

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  Yodelbip

  

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  Are

  

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  You

  

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  Ready

  

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  for

  

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  the

  

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  Great

  

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  Tribulation

  

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  ?

  

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  My important speech and message
  to the trillions of humans
  and animals and insects
  around the world:

  Israel has a right to exist.
  The Jews are a vulnerable people,
  an easy target for racism,
  they are a historical people,
  with biblical weight.
  It should be preserved
  on their own terms.
  I am against the internationalization
  of all nations and cultures.
  Everything becomes diluted
  and loses its distinctive character,
  because the authorities’ idea
  of what a multicultural people
  should be like,
  is to be like themselves:
  Clerks and conformists.

  

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  Happy Birthday

  

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  Please don’t compare me to the CEOs at Google who fire employees for supporting Palestine and not Israel, or the infrastructure in society that makes it difficult for Roger Waters to tour and book hotels. Please don’t compare me to people who censor and ban. It has nothing to do with me. That’s exactly the kind of Western conformism that I oppose. My support for Israel is a statement of personal freedom to be who you are.

  

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  Eye for an Eye

  

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  The Legend of Skampfhleyratz

  

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  In Search of Max Ernst

  

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  Stages

  

  

  

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  At the Floodgates of a Dream

  

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  More Scott Art

  

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  I took a break from drawing, and went upstairs to make a slice of bread in the kitchen, and at the same time put some bread for the mice on the floor under the kitchen counter. When I got back down to the basement, there was plaster from the basement wall finely strewn over the mouse pad. There is probably a logical answer to that, you might say. And it is, but not in the way you think.

  

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  Welcome 2 the Dawn

  

  tikkende

  March 22, 2024

  Billeddikt XIII