Bloody nostrils

barely awake

barely aware

I’m feeling chills

I think the fingers of evil
have been scratching in my nostrils

the pillowcase is turning red

as I try to catch my breath

is this a dreadful nightmare

or am I close to death?

gushing out my nose

it's a river of blood

a dreadful affair is taking place 

in this nasal neighborhood

The King of Wonderland

in my land of wonder lives a mean, old king

with an iron fist he rules, and with a cracked voice he sings

"be my joker, be my queen

be a dancer, make a scene"

then he laughs and drags me down

to despair and to decay

he fills my head with nonsense

and yet I let him stay

will there be land of wonder, when the king is dead?

when all the words are spoken, when all the tears are shed?

Leken

du må droppe søtt

og spise sunt

du må trene ofte

helst året rundt

du må drikke vann

for å rense din kropp

du må trene enda mer

bestige en fjelltopp

men for å virkelig holde deg ung

hør nå min preken:

hva enn du gjør

forbli leken

The Sneeze (prosit)

it begins with a tickle
a cute facial spasm
mouth looking strange
like a great open chasm

face making movements
is something wrong?
nose has these cramps
but I'm playing along

an extraordinary burst
it feels so fantastic
so vivid and moist
somewhat close to orgasmic

I didn't expect
(and would never reject)
the body's creation
a special effect

Guest blogger: A Poorly Planned Poem

there once was a penguin you see, 
he might look normal to you and me. 
doing the things that penguins do, 
out on the far seas.
but this perticular penguin was as strange as strange could be
because every night at twelve, he would be dancing by himself.


(Oh Oh Oh, dancing by himse-elf)


and on this perculiar note,
he was dansing on board a boat.
not the kind of boat you find floating on the sea, 
but one on the bottom, alone in the dark 
with me.


and for the penguin to get in the mood of dancey,
he would dress up rather fancy.
with a hat of green, 
and a cape of blue,
and a singular purple dancing shoe.

the penguin would dance, 
the waltz and the tango, 
rumba and hip hop, 
and in the end a flamenco.


and all the while 
he was dancing alone,
he did not notice my presence 
my moans.


he doesen't even know 
that he keeps me company, 
he is dancing with a ghost, 
and that ghost would be me.

Written by Ann-Kristin Opdal Olsen

The walk of pain

I recently purchased
a new pair of shoes
and the next morning
I put them to use

I went for a walk
on a wonderful day
but then came upon me
a sense of dismay

as the day lingered on
the pain got intense
my shoes tried to kill me
it did'nt make sense

I thought it was footwear
that i blissfully bought
in truth they're devices of torture
one on each foot

maybe it was karma
maybe I've been vain
this was the story
of my walk in pain

Enamored

the strangest thing
has caught my mind
my brain feels like cotton
let me rewind

recently my head got stuck
in some sort of cloud
I started walking into objects
and singing out loud

the colors around me
is turning bright
maybe it is because of spring
and therefor more sunlight

but I haven't felt blue
for quite a while
and instead of frowning
I seem to wear a smile

now you all think I'm crazy
or perhaps acting coy
but the reason is this
I'm simply mad about a boy

The Creature

i'm walking in a forest
on a late october night
the full moon and the trees
are all I have in sight

something unknown in this forest
doesen't want me to stay
i'm sensing a chill
and walk the other way

maybe it's a werewolf
with big, sharp claws
or a man-sized bat
with terrible jaws

there's a creature in the woods
you didn't hear?
it's from the black lagoon
who happens to be near

and there's a tale about a count
said to be quite a stud
but truth be told
he only wants to drink your blood

maybe it's a ghoul
or a walking dead
perhaps a jolly clown
who wants to paint the forest red

another legend wanders
of a man on a horse
his head has gone missing
and now he wants yours

i stop and turn around
to see the creature stare
the only thing to save me now
is waking from the nightmare

Teaterfestival

for en fest
for et driv
hele byen
er full av liv

kjærlighet i lufta
og klovner på land
på elva fløt det jaggu
en diger badeand

skitprat og dans
på scene, på bord
øl, øl og mere øl
oh my sweet lord

festen er over
alle dro hjem
og her sitter man altså
ødelagt igjen

hodet er tungt
kroppen er skral
alle byer bør ha
en teaterfestival

Baderomsgjesten

det var i januar
tidligere i år
jeg fikk en liten gjest
han trodde det var vår

han var en fargerik fyr
som bodde inne på badet
men han gjorde forsåvidt
ingen særlig skade

jeg er rimelig sikker
på at han kom fra en luke
og han levde dessverre
i bare en uke

hans liv var alt for kort
og jeg tror han kjedet seg
men vi ble ganske gode venner
min sommerfugl og jeg

Fyllenerver

det er søndag igjen
jeg er så jævlig sliten
tunga smaker sand
jeg føler meg bedriten

må ha en liter vann
så fort som bare fanden
grav meg en grav
jeg går fra forstanden

ligger her og lider
hodet mitt verker
og min vakre hud er dekket
av fargerike merker

ringer til en venn
og dusten bare ler
jeg sier det nok en gang
skal aldri drekke mer

Tegneserier

små tegnede figurer

er det kuleste jeg vet

de lever inni ruter

og kurerer kjedsomhet

Barberhøvelen

tre skarpe blader
glir opp langs min hårete legg
som en kvistkutter på
en trebekledt vegg

denne skogen på mitt ben
jeg brukte uker på å gro
kapper høvelen bort
på et minutt, kanskje to

men en noen ganger kuttes
langt mer enn bare hår
jeg har det litt for travelt
og vips, et åpent sår

Ode til bobleplast

du brukes til
å pakke inn
diverse ting
som dukker opp i posten min

de utnytter deg
som beskyttelseslag
til knusbar drit
og sirkelsag

men for meg er du
som poesi
dine bobler er
som terapi

bobleplast, du herlighet
jeg vil leve kun
på plastikk, luft
og kjærlighet <3