Saturday, November 21, 2009


Persson is another artist on Jamendo and one of my favorites. This is what he said about this album: "This is my second solo album and it's recorded in 2007. The tune "Trouble on Monday" is dedicated to my music friend Thommie Johansson who died in 2004.
On You Tube there is one music video of the tune "Blues for a soldier." A tribute to the people and the soldiers of the war of Vietnam."

Another one of my dark poems written in the 90's:

The child
sponge thing
slips through liquid
is accomplishment
is creation
          creating improbabilities
the ape gone mad.
The butterfly stumbles
in the summer breeze
trees collapsing
sour winds blow
over cluttered brown waves
A call
a lonely call
the last creature stands
            beneath a crumbling ledge
            Where once there were swallows

The child stands alone
on his conquered earth
he has won--not won
An ape gone mad
and the smoke
burns his throat


I was just recording in this (the previous) poem my frustration at what we are doing to our earth. I think at the time, I wrote this,  I was annoyed about the rain-forests in South America and elsewhere which were (are) being deforested for the sake of the beef eating world.

This poem was written in October of 1994, reflecting on the death of my mother:

We are not ideas
     But ideas move us
We are not hope
     But hope redeems us
We are not forgiveness
     But forgiveness frees us
We are not pain
     But pain strengthens us

Life reflected in
     electrified mud
Becomes dissipated
     releasing its air
Memory becomes winged
     and dies at the end
     of the last generation.


November 1, 1998 - I wrote this one to lecture myself:

A candle in the dark,
A star on the windy sky
I tell a broken bird
                 "reach high"
                 fly. . .
No more the victim
Always the rising star
Everything you can be --is
Everything you are.


April 4, 1993 - Who knows why I wrote this poem - perhaps I was watching the night sky as a depressed person with just a little hope:

The most powerful beings in the Universe
             are the stars
Are overwhelmed
By the Darkness - The Black
That Kills
Yet accentuates
The dancing glories - In all their colors
The Black
Which frightens away
All the sparrows
And so the
Is from the Stars. . .
Does she see
Does she see me
In the Dark
Dark Black
Does she hear my song
In all its raw denial
Where does she fly
In all her glory through the night's
Specks of nothing
freckles on the face of God
Star so strong
Autonomous star
Dancing with her sisters
Across the raw painful night
When will she see me --
       and stop her flight
       the dark
       hides my plight
And I am diminished
       by the night.
And if we should somehow succeed
In meeting
Before the Dawn
Perhaps she would
                    take my hand
                    in her strength
                    Call me friend
                    of beauty
                    lover of stars
Blaze in glory
Across the Darkness
             of the night.


And here are two more poems written also on April 4, 1993:

The People running on
                                the frozen ground
The rain is coming down
                                in sheets of ivory
The singing echoes round
                                on paths of flashing
And daisies flattened in the grass
                                from dancing
The dark devours the lonely
                                glistening soul light
The night descends in globs
                                of ancient blight
The people running on
                                the ragged lava
The fire coming closer
                                from the sky well
The sorrow flings around
                                in shades of passion
And arrows flight
             across the night
             descends on target
             in its purple sight.


This one is called "Turquoise" :

There is no life in the
                         Turquoise sea
                         no life to be
Aware of the coming dawn
The mud has soaked
        away the flight
And the souls of the
        birds of the deep.
                         And they weep
For the ever present salt
                         in their wounds
They are stymied
For the weight of the mud
                         in the turquoise sea
Presses them down
                         beneath the brown
And the fear is there
                        forever where
No song is sung
Or laugh is rung
                        Deep beneath the turquoise sea.


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