Who are you to define this feeling?
To bottle me up like a drug
Telling me who I am
And what's wrong with me
My diagnosis
It'll all be solved if I grind my way
Through the system
Hat's off to your majesty
Your words are almighty
The sheets of paper
That decide my life
Circle around
Telling me who I am
Who I'm supposed to be
Once, I forgot a detail
Once, I forgot a smile
And the way back uphill
Wasn't worth my while
Call me bipolar
Call me a lie
I'll still be in exile
Trying to hide
I'm not a rebel, anymore
No defiant angel
It's easier to swallow your drugs
And walze through your system
Through all the tunnels you dug
For your trains
Glory, your majesty
I bow to you,
I'm on my knees
For making me realize
My own disease
Medicate me
Have me sedated
Take away my pain
Once, I forgot a detail
Once, I forgot a smile
And the way back uphill
Wasn't worth my while
Call me bipolar
Call me a lie
You found me, in exile
Trying to hide
POET in the JAR
Tuesday, June 29
Sunday, June 27
Cardboard Boxes
A shard of my old life
In a cardboard box
A splinter of my life
In a cardboard box
And a photograph
I'd forgotten I had
A cup of coffee in the morning
To wake me from my sleep
But there's still vacuum
In my dreams
A shard of my new life
Living day by day
Oh, one by one
I took all the boxes
To a different place
And a scribbled note
By your shaking hands
A cup of coffee in the morning
To wake me from my sleep
But there's still vacuum
In my dreams
As if it hadn't been
As if I hadn't been there
They erased all reminders
That kept my stare
They said you'd died
It's easier like that
With you dead
That I'd forget
And clear my mind
With you dead
But there's still vacuum
There's still vacuum
There's still vacuum
In my dreams
In a cardboard box
A splinter of my life
In a cardboard box
And a photograph
I'd forgotten I had
A cup of coffee in the morning
To wake me from my sleep
But there's still vacuum
In my dreams
A shard of my new life
Living day by day
Oh, one by one
I took all the boxes
To a different place
And a scribbled note
By your shaking hands
A cup of coffee in the morning
To wake me from my sleep
But there's still vacuum
In my dreams
As if it hadn't been
As if I hadn't been there
They erased all reminders
That kept my stare
They said you'd died
It's easier like that
With you dead
That I'd forget
And clear my mind
With you dead
But there's still vacuum
There's still vacuum
There's still vacuum
In my dreams
Wednesday, June 23
Rainfall Bay
It's never silent in Silent City
No other place is as loud
The name is misplaced
And withers away
As if they had thought they could change
It's never quiet inside my mind
Even when I rest
When I sleep at night
My thoughts are too many
They wither away
As if I had thought I could change
This lane goes straight through me
Straight through the tunnel you drilled
And life runs me over, over again
Reliving the times I was killed
It never rains by Rainfall Bay
Maybe your tears could wash it away
The lighthouse by the sea
Bewildering me
As if you had thought I could change
This lane goes straight through me
Straight through the tunnel you drilled
And life runs me over, over again
Reliving the times I was killed
As if I had thought you could change
POET IN THE JAR
No other place is as loud
The name is misplaced
And withers away
As if they had thought they could change
It's never quiet inside my mind
Even when I rest
When I sleep at night
My thoughts are too many
They wither away
As if I had thought I could change
This lane goes straight through me
Straight through the tunnel you drilled
And life runs me over, over again
Reliving the times I was killed
It never rains by Rainfall Bay
Maybe your tears could wash it away
The lighthouse by the sea
Bewildering me
As if you had thought I could change
This lane goes straight through me
Straight through the tunnel you drilled
And life runs me over, over again
Reliving the times I was killed
As if I had thought you could change
POET IN THE JAR
Sunday, June 20
Face Punches
Why is it always that when things seem to work out pretty nicely something simply HAS to come around and punch you in the face? Or stomach? Or any other appropriate place where a punch would feel appropriate. There was a reason I left this place, I'm not blaming anyone cause really it's nobody's fault and I know this. But somehow still it's just easy to see all the bad and not the good, see all the drama and all the bullshit rather than all the other stuff... though I haven't been away from here any more than like, two weeks, this city feels totally alien, it's just not me anymore. My new life and heart is in Skövde and that's where I'll stay, like honestly, after Midsummer's, if I'm going home I am going home to the countryside and not to this city. It's just full of people that I well have either a bad history with or they make me associate with bad history (yes I'm aware I'm a difficult person but yeah that's just who I am). Queen said the other day that I don't have the exclusive right to be depressed, and that I've been depressed since birth, ha. I was feeling pretty good, I am feeling pretty good, every second that I'm in my new city and not here, every second that I'm there I'm just fine. Getting my own room is going to be simply awesome I can tell. My place is not here, my place is not there either probably, it's someplace either where I can well allow myself to be myself and just grow and well just be without all the bad shit that comes along with its wake.
Today I was packing out the last stuff in my old apartment, stumbled on some scribbles from my ex and totally broke down, I feel like a widow, I'm acting just the way a widow would and as if he had died rather than decided to walk out of my life and well nothing more to that. But he did die, part of me died, I guess something must have died in order to give life to this, my new life, my new situation? Something had to be really really bad in order to be good, and I really mean it was bad. You wouldn't know how far it went even if I told you.
Anyway waiting for my friends to come over into this borrowed apartment cause they missed their bus home, better get ready and make room for them. Tomorrow I'll be attending Pier Pressure for the first time since last time haha, well since 2007 or something, possibly 2008? Either way I don't care, tomorrow will be 2010 and that's all I really care about. So see you tomorrow among all the beers and awesome bands and the beautiful, wonderful James.
POET IN THE JAR
Today I was packing out the last stuff in my old apartment, stumbled on some scribbles from my ex and totally broke down, I feel like a widow, I'm acting just the way a widow would and as if he had died rather than decided to walk out of my life and well nothing more to that. But he did die, part of me died, I guess something must have died in order to give life to this, my new life, my new situation? Something had to be really really bad in order to be good, and I really mean it was bad. You wouldn't know how far it went even if I told you.
Anyway waiting for my friends to come over into this borrowed apartment cause they missed their bus home, better get ready and make room for them. Tomorrow I'll be attending Pier Pressure for the first time since last time haha, well since 2007 or something, possibly 2008? Either way I don't care, tomorrow will be 2010 and that's all I really care about. So see you tomorrow among all the beers and awesome bands and the beautiful, wonderful James.
POET IN THE JAR
Tuesday, June 15
Cancer Growth
I am the voice of your whisper
The words on your broken lips
Lips turning into butterflies
Fluttering their wings
Into the ashes you sing
I'm the skin on your fingers
Between you and the world
Your shield, your illusion
Protection against
Everything
You're silent, these days
You don't speak
Even in whispers
No one that listens
You lost your touch
Your way with things
And all your grace
All these days
I'm here, waiting
For a word to be spoken
I'm here, broken
Cancer, dark poison, spreads
Shadows, visual echoes
Of the dead
Det döda i din röst
Det döda i dina ögon
I dina fingrar
Du finns ännu
Och du lever
Men jag, som är del av dig
Fick ge efter och dö
För din överlevnad
I'm waiting, broken
All unspoken
You broke me
To survive
You're cancer now
And you thrive
____________________________________
This is another hybrid piece with elements of both English and Swedish. It's simply the way it turned out as I wrote it off my head at 1 AM in the morning. The part in Swedish translates as follows.
"The dead in your voice
The dead in your eyes
In your fingers
You still exist
And you're alive
But I, who am part of you
Had to give in and die
For your survival"
POET in the JAR
The words on your broken lips
Lips turning into butterflies
Fluttering their wings
Into the ashes you sing
I'm the skin on your fingers
Between you and the world
Your shield, your illusion
Protection against
Everything
You're silent, these days
You don't speak
Even in whispers
No one that listens
You lost your touch
Your way with things
And all your grace
All these days
I'm here, waiting
For a word to be spoken
I'm here, broken
Cancer, dark poison, spreads
Shadows, visual echoes
Of the dead
Det döda i din röst
Det döda i dina ögon
I dina fingrar
Du finns ännu
Och du lever
Men jag, som är del av dig
Fick ge efter och dö
För din överlevnad
I'm waiting, broken
All unspoken
You broke me
To survive
You're cancer now
And you thrive
____________________________________
This is another hybrid piece with elements of both English and Swedish. It's simply the way it turned out as I wrote it off my head at 1 AM in the morning. The part in Swedish translates as follows.
"The dead in your voice
The dead in your eyes
In your fingers
You still exist
And you're alive
But I, who am part of you
Had to give in and die
For your survival"
POET in the JAR
Monday, June 14
Settling In
Moving always gives you some perspective on life, good or bad. When you're driving out of your old city, you suddenly remember everything that happened there, every loss you had, every kiss you had, every friend you had, everything. Every place you lived. Everything you did. A couple years of your life chucked on the garbage pile labelling it "Baggage".
The new place won't be much different. It'll have the same kind of drama and the same kind of everyday commotion. But it will be new to you, because you have never seen it before, and you see it with different eyes.
I'm seeing things with different eyes and everything here seems just better than before. I don't think it has anything to do really with the city, though this city indeed is pretty cozy; I think it has to do with this. Suddenly I have school and I find it so interesting that I long to go to school. It's five minutes away by bike, I live in a dorm hall where everyone is being social with eachother and making me feel welcome. And I don't have to spend my hours of my days going to a job that was supposed to be temporary and that I never really wanted to have.
I'm listening to Simon & Garfunkel, my mother's favorite artist, such beautiful songs, and writing this just as a little update for you guys. Though both sad and uplifting as it is I believe I will really come to love it here. Part of me already does. I will love it even more when I have my own room to decorate.
POET in the JAR
The new place won't be much different. It'll have the same kind of drama and the same kind of everyday commotion. But it will be new to you, because you have never seen it before, and you see it with different eyes.
I'm seeing things with different eyes and everything here seems just better than before. I don't think it has anything to do really with the city, though this city indeed is pretty cozy; I think it has to do with this. Suddenly I have school and I find it so interesting that I long to go to school. It's five minutes away by bike, I live in a dorm hall where everyone is being social with eachother and making me feel welcome. And I don't have to spend my hours of my days going to a job that was supposed to be temporary and that I never really wanted to have.
I'm listening to Simon & Garfunkel, my mother's favorite artist, such beautiful songs, and writing this just as a little update for you guys. Though both sad and uplifting as it is I believe I will really come to love it here. Part of me already does. I will love it even more when I have my own room to decorate.
POET in the JAR
Wednesday, June 9
Throne Of Gold
Throne of gold
Would be yours
You'd climb the world
Turning your back on everything
All the needles
Every sin
You told me we'd scream
Empty our lungs
To all the world
I believed you, and your dreams
We could be great
Make our names
I was climbing the world
The highest mountain there was
Pursuing every hope I was denied
Because of your promises
But you lied
You're not going for the sky
You're not building that ladder
If that hope wasn't true for you
Were those dreams unreal
For me too?
Throne of gold
Won't be yours
You won't chase it
I'm all alone
With my dreams
Would be yours
You'd climb the world
Turning your back on everything
All the needles
Every sin
You told me we'd scream
Empty our lungs
To all the world
I believed you, and your dreams
We could be great
Make our names
I was climbing the world
The highest mountain there was
Pursuing every hope I was denied
Because of your promises
But you lied
You're not going for the sky
You're not building that ladder
If that hope wasn't true for you
Were those dreams unreal
For me too?
Throne of gold
Won't be yours
You won't chase it
I'm all alone
With my dreams
Tuesday, June 8
Puppet, Doll
My sleep is calm,
And undisturbed
I don't look back
At your attacks
When I was hurt
This my cocoon, now
This the safest place, of all
Curtains closing, puppet
Curtains closing, doll
Come sleep here
That innocence I lost
So many times
Stabbing my heart
Raping my mind
I look away, puppet
I look away, doll
And I sleep
Calm and undisturbed
And undisturbed
I don't look back
At your attacks
When I was hurt
This my cocoon, now
This the safest place, of all
Curtains closing, puppet
Curtains closing, doll
Come sleep here
That innocence I lost
So many times
Stabbing my heart
Raping my mind
I look away, puppet
I look away, doll
And I sleep
Calm and undisturbed
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