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14 Apr

I might not feel at home where I was born, but here on the outskirts of the continent I appreciate a waitress that does not take away my plate when I am still eating. It is my birthday – the 5th of April.

Can you imagine a bigger pleasure than being treated as you would like to be treated while your turning 53?

I am always looking for something, but very often I find something else. How can I expect to find the same restaurant after 27 years? I am like an aboriginal. My past and my heritage has been disrupted, distroyed and mutulated. I cannot sing the same song and find my way around. I thought I could cross the railway tracks, but they build a new railway station.

This time I found a small restaurant called Dinar in Konstantinoupoleos number 178A run by Nadia, where I got a nice bottle of rosé and freshly fried sardines.



Weekly Poetry – uge 52

31 Dec


I am on my may again
boarding a transportation device
in late afternoon of New Year Eve
I have been here before
the train from Dar Es Salaam in 2010
I had to stop halfway due to practicalities
this time I intend to go all the way
since it would be very complicated not to.

This is also the end of 52 in 2016
a long journey of writing what ‘s on my mind
one month like the other
does it make a difference?
can I still after traveling the world grasp changing seasons?
is writing an accurate reflection of life?
I will tell you later.

Soon in an airplane over the Mediterranian Sea
the water connecting continents falling apart
maybe not even continents
they have no common identity
but simply pieces of land
it is only the water in the sea
claiming to be an entity of substance.


Weekly Poetry – uge 51

24 Dec


Eyes in Rabat
I am seeing eyes everywhere
everywhere I look
the eyes of Rabat
eyes to look into
eyes looking at me
magnetic connections
an invitation to think
a pledge to connect
eyes of curiosity
kind and gently eyes
what do you want
and what do I want
a slight touch from behind
a hand protecting my eyes in the sun
I can see
you and me



Enogtyvende december

21 Dec

I am going to meet the HEAT
the HEAT will meet me
we are going to expand to unknown temperatures
a snow man will also be part of the equation
it will be a desicion between melting the HEAT
and selling the BEAT.

If you think you have already warmed up
then what you will see coming is a lot
we can not promise you eternal living
but while we are running
the MEAT will be boiling



Weekly Poetry – uge 38

22 Sep


We have destroyed everything
every narrative about life comes from the same place
an area surrounded by two rivers
names past on through history.

It is dark
the end of a long route
the direction points towards a hidden wall
a down fall into a swarm of fallen angels.

Can we reset history?
Do we not have the same destiny
if we tell the exact same story all over again
between two rivers not far apart?

A story told
word cannot be unspoken
darkness will prevail
in dried-out rivers
before we return in a thousand years.



Denne uges digt er skrevet henover min oplevelse med at se forestillingen “Skabelse” på Husets Teater lørdag den 17.september.
Husets Teater
Halmtorvet 9
1700 København

Spilleperiode: 17. 9 – 15.10 2016
Man-fre kl. 20.00, lør kl. 17.00


Weekly Poetry – uge 36

9 Sep


I have seen you from East to West
but the Pacific was nothing like I expected
distance and the shape of waves are incomparable
water is soft and hard.

I do not know what to call you
all the names I have spoken are inadequate
in the wind I hear a whisper
words serving no purpose
can I mention a place without given it a name?

we speak of you
but there is nothing to speak about
you are still an expression of difference
I have changed my mind
all my attempts to reason have evaporated
let it just be you and me.

Weekly Poetry – uge 15

15 Apr


If you ever have had sex with an artist
you might have caught yourself thinking
does he really love me?
does she at all like me?
or am I just another commodity of inspiration.

Hvis du nogen sinde har kneppet med en kunstner
har du måske taget dig selv i at tænke
elsker han mig rigtigt?
kan hun overhovedet lide mig?
eller er jeg blot endnu et objekt for inspiration

It is very obvious
you can see it without doubt
all the paintings are of you
but when the exhibition opens
your problem arises
the audience will buy you
as any other hooker on the block.

Det er helt tydeligt
du kan se det uden at være i tvivl
alle kunstværkerne er dig
men når udstillingen åbner
får du et problem
publikum vil købe dig
som var du en simpel luder på gaden.

Even worse
imagine if nobody want to buy you
then one day
the artist will forget everything
paint you over
because you have become only a canvas
on top of you will be a new inspiration.

Men endnu værre
forestil dig at du ikke bliver købt
da vil kunstneren en dag have glemt alt
og beslutter sig at male henover dig
som var du et hvilken som helst andet lærred
over på dig vil der være ny inspiration.