conceptual poems


Conceptual poems: The Ballade about yourself


Questions in the air

Everything or nothing?

Closed hands reach out in folded arms.

Everything or nothing?

 

Who are capable of it and who dares?

What is Something, When Everything Can Be Won?

Is There Nothing in the Wrong Hand?

Can Everything be held in one hand alone?

Whose is the hand's control in the game?

Is it a credible game manager?

 

However, are you not yourself without participating?

Or is this to choose Nothing and wasting your chance?

Does nothing play a role, and is nothing in itself enough?

Can you seize yourself out of nothing without falling?

Are you then a wishful thought or a nightmare?

Who can, who dares and who turns their backs to?

 

 

 

 

 



Spiritual song

One day I find myself wearing brown monk's robe.

Seated squatting in a subtile turbulently landscape.

Bald and with a naked branch laid in my hands,

I sing stanzas, which not even I myself have known before.

Stanzas that seem to multiply and form themselves

Just right next to my own physical presence.

 

An independent world of stanzas growing and piling up,

excites me to the absolute breaking point,

and triggers in the creation of a grotesque performance.

A performance that in a glance of recognition

lets itself be revealed as a double-edged sword,

which in fine but painfully cut cuts a piece of myself,

and a piece of this world, that I am made of.

 


Melancholy

 After years of protracted, confusing and exhausting walks, 
 non answered reverent prayers, unfulfilled hopes and eternal longings.
 After many long attempts against a non breakrable wall
 and after time after time to have appeared in new disguises,
 I walk now only with eyes focused on the red ground under my feet.

 With a flabby purple cloak put on my naked overdue body,
 I move to the sound of deep throat-humming sounds tones rhythmically forward, 
 dragging the family's heavy burdensome handcart after me -
 an involuntary heritage as life's heavy load and absolute judgment.

 Bended frontover and with an unprecedented happy feeling of indifference , 
 leave I with all caution my measured steps in the dust, 
 a volatile trail through this maze of winding alleyways, 
 whose nearest exit on both attractive and repulsive way, 
 looks like being an final parting.


Free

Hovering in uplifting  warm aircurrents,
I fly expectantly and freely through the time,
freedom, oh wonderful freedom!
Only a winner wins freedom,
 and the prize of the freedom is to be a  winner.

 

 Who Nothing ventured is no winner,
nothing is namely nothing compared with freedom,
the free has ventured everything to avoid the nothing.

 
Overcome ones own fears lifts up the spirit to be light,
to stare the predator in the eyes gives a predator force,
Then let all humility be the a feather in fierce winds,
and let it drown in powerful rain showers,
knocked to the ground by hail and icy cold.

 

Oh freedom! Ain't compareable  with nothing, 
only  everything is suficient to measure by,
and to fight the principles of mediocrity gives wings.

 

You'll get spirit united with body in new light altitudes, 
nothing disappears and everything is a new creation, 
oh freedom!


The moment
Heavy things arise in sudden flashes around me,
dissolves, fades in and disappears in the bustle of a blurry world.

Floating incomprehensible voices circulate around me,
the unbearable noises of small sounds in the echo's continued resounding emptiness

Nothing passes me unnoticed and insignificantly, while everything stay hanging in the air around me, loaded with meaning and life.

An unspeakable eternity loaded with a mystery, that make the same eternity to disappeare at moment of its arisement.



Anxiety

A sucking force,

an inner pulling through me

a warm wind through my freezing body,

distant voices infinitely far from here,

escalating sounds of unbearable echoes in my head,

the space around me expands uncontrollably

In fetal position  I'm trying to protect myself,

now only deep breaths.




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Transformationism


1989 - A leap into a unpredictable life as a visual artist

Inspired by a fascination with the American satire magazine MAD's illustrator Don Martin's drawings and the Danish Caricature artist Roal Als. Seven years of work at my father's architect's studio, studies of right-wing extremism during world war II and the French Revolution, the breakdown of the Berlin wall, Nietzches delirious speech about the death of God, Freud's dream interpretation, Salvador Dalí's surrealistic universe, Kierkegaard's existentialistically concept of irony, and concept of Anxiety, poetry by the Danish author Thorkild Bjørnvig, Mozart's opera Don Juan, and Pink Floyd's musical interpretation of reality, in 1989, I burned all the bridges behind me. I jumped into life with the red soft forms of insecurity - into life as a full-time painter. In the beginning, I painted everything with a wide paintbrush. Soft shapes. Without much detail, and to my surprise, the painting became my soul mirror, each time revealing my Anxiety. The basic form of these soft forms of Anxiety comes from a cartoon smiley that I developed up through the 80s for diligent use as graffiti and on all surfaces that could be drawn on. As I start painting, the smile suddenly turns into a scream, and if one were to sound my early pictures, Pink Floyd's "The big gig in the sky" would be very appropriate. 

When you click on the picture you wil be lead to my youtube channel, currently with 26 videos from different times showing and telling about my art.


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