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Lars Eriksen Poem
No
no name
frozen rose
lost cause
and so simpleminded that it is
mindless
Quickstep my dear
that or Slow fox
no labdance
(my ***** is only for pissing)
I own 6 nights and 8 days
they are only mine
(and yours
and yours
and yours
and yours)
need more
but the bank is closed
and my cash is spent
on cigarettes, beer and uncomfortable shoes
made in China
by a heartless little girl
who humped the neighbour’s son
and then just ignored him
for no reason at all
he killed him self
(who wouldn’t?)
Empty stone
frozen rose
lost cause
roadless journey
bodyless traveller
no need to hitchhike
you will get picked up
Heartless little girl
no name
no face
Winter here I come (and where the f.... is my Igloo?)
Broken bones
happy smile
today
green meadow and tired back
will meet
these trees never give up
(but refuses to tell me how they manage).
Lars Eriksen 2005
Copyright © Lars Eriksen | Year Posted 2006
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Lars Eriksen Poem
Last night I found a sentence in your bed, just lying there between smiles and sweat.
And I picked it up and said: Hey Baby, let’s get more of those! But then you rose from the
bed and so on and shouted: No way! But what does it say? Oh Honey, you know I can’t tell
you that! But it’s got the I, the L and the Y words in it. And then you started talking
about buildings. Like if you had an ugly one just opposite a beautiful one, you would
prefer to live in the ugly one, so that you could look out on the beautiful one. And not
the other way around. And then you said that if love was Cream Tortellini you would prefer
kebab. Cause it’s easier to get hold of if you come home late at night – perhaps a little
tipsy – but you don’t have to if you don’t want to, and Kebab isn’t as fattening and that
you aren’t that keen on pasta anyway.
Copyright © Lars Eriksen | Year Posted 2007
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Lars Eriksen Poem
told to a stranger
not words
but a look
or a rare movement
the second the fire
caught the dry tobacco
(in the now newly lit and then long longed cigarette)
who you are
I can not tell
but you are not yours
(that much is certain)
maybe a magical mix between chemistry and the seconds you are loved and the seconds you
are left
(written in fluids, scars and smiles)
sentences’ or fragments of sentences’
brought into meaning
(however meaningless)
by you
(who are not even yours)
not even the cigarette is yours
but belongs to nameless urge’s and untold orders
(given to your body
by the invisible director
of your moneys dance
from your pocket
into his)
Lars Eriksen 2005
Copyright © Lars Eriksen | Year Posted 2006
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Lars Eriksen Poem
(I’m not frightened).
(I’m not frightened. Barely alive…
Though I do recall my mother telling me about my birth)
But have you seen what they do to people out there?
How they tear the flesh of screaming bones
how they feed the ground with death!
(Well… Its humans being humans. But don’t be frightened).
But have you seen the news lately?
Yesterday a man did something unspeakable to another man
and a woman said that she did what she did out of love…
(It always seems to have to do with love. Doesn’t it?
To get it or to get away from it.
Too little or too much…).
(I don’t know…
But they like it when you cry.
They’ve been hurt too, you know.
And the sun is never new. It’s just you).
(What can I say?).
(I do appreciate my cigarette in the morning!
Every morning…
And I promise I’ll try to smile again.
I’m sure I can make it this time!).
(And by the way…
You wouldn’t be so surprised, if you didn’t lie all the time).
(I don’t know why you lie...
And then again, perhaps I do.).
Lars Eriksen 2006,
Copyright © Lars Eriksen | Year Posted 2006
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