Orlanda furiosa's lost way

Angry - angry - vile disease

the randomness - a sleaze

of an astrophysicist I know

the going downhill grows

he no longer can do a thing

life stinks with a bitter zing

Too many battle this combat

couldn't we the brain reformat

so that everyone would win

over this brain demise' kin

Alzheimer's or dementia alas

the numbers grow I'm aghast

So Orlanda furiosa's great quest

help her friend's with a life vest

continue to learn - never stop

to read question walk  and up

the ante of exercise - eat soundly

just live more profoundly

The info is out there cool and clear

numbers talk  even this year

one in three seniors will die

from these two diseases - a pie

with cancers breast/dick combined

train your blasted frame of mind

Today I am truly sad and mad

at the friggin' illness to be had

maybe it is Gaia's true revenge

that she is building a stone henge

to show that humans are curiosa

You are nothing, Orlanda furiosa

Intimate refuge

On this day Aussie friend

You appeared in the sphere

my personal poet muse

Gone already more than ten

Intimacy and earnest - dear

My quiet go to refuge

Eternities?

Every day

Every day

Every day

Need to hear more

Every night

Every night

Every night

Nightmare or bore

Every week

Every month 

Every year

A zinc washboard 

Daft parade

Daffodils oh daft spring 

How can I ever not dwell 

Upon a youthful hope

Warm loving wonder

But ephemeral it remains 

Only a glimpse every year

A tug in the tummy

And it is sort of forgotten 

Until again my eyes feast

Upon the bright yellow crowns

The parade is moving again 

Noises Rus

 Over the house an airplane buzzes

Every three minutes in the fly path 

Some days 

it is only the cars distant humming

Broken by the ambulances or

The helicopter’s whirring on

The hospital’s helipad

Sometimes it is all annoying 

These not so distant noises

And at other times they blend in

Humans are adaptable 

Quardrupedes are not!

Et stjerneglimt?

 Gemt bag facadespejlbilledet

Den person man ikke så

Viste sig ikke - kun hvis

Man gik i Tivolis glaskabinet

Glimtede der noget and i 

Sprækken af irisens blåøjethed

Og gennemskueligheden 

Forsvandt som et stjerneskud

På en kølig augustaften

Et vindpust fra et århundrede

Hele slægtens gensplejsning

Mærkedes af gespænstet

Kun for at skrige - jegets veråb

I ly af hurlumhejet var der

Ingen som hverken så eller hørte det.

Virtual vultures

The culture of ready-mades

Spits out endless demons

although in honesty we 

Are the devils and reality

Is a harsh taskmaster 

Finding faults in every detail 

However nature itself claims

Only a vulnerable bird

Fighting for its habitat 

Hence we are the virtual vultures 

The life worth it?

"Der  blöde Teufel" - long gone memories

of high school German and philosophy

was a fascination for the teacher and his pupil

He claimed to be one of the Electors

I was captivated by this philosophy

: to try everything human - a shy girl

with a handicap and a curiosity 

he - an old homosexual with a love unrequited

That was the beginning of the ending

an human comedy set in many acts

Did I fulfill my quest for knowledge?

Did the life asked of me what it could?

Did fate lead to challenges of wanting ?

What have I not tried? Is there something 

that must still be probed - me a « matriarch « 

Recently named by someone close!

Never once did that word even enter

My voracious vocals of wordsmithing

So every day even today is a lesson 

A rainy day where I am trying to learn

Puppy training for the oldie unwise

To acquire a dog during a pandemic 

Having forgotten everything about pups

This is a new experience exquisitely hard

And due to his wild nature of wolves

Albeit a  small but stubborn creature 

He will teach me more about patience 

Than ever before because I have forgotten 

And I should have remembered rawly !

Of lovers lost and found but not forgotten 

There are a beginning a middle and an end

A few need mentioning - my first lover

On April Fools day marked forever a fool

Still to this moment  a minute pining 

Sadly he never liked me - possibly of pity

For me a coup de foudre - not even good

A few mistakes - a holiday one here there

In foreign lands one Aussie handsome

A sweetheart - gentle - would I marry him

I just could not  but friends forever

Through out everything until his death

My heart still remembers his gentleness 

Of course I tried living with a man

Complicated - corrosive cohabitation 

But I got my son - a beautiful child 

An even more wonderful father 

In Aussie-immensely ironically so 

With my hubby - an easier ride - 

A friend - for life - calm existence 

Except when I muddle it -

Two strong children both musicians

One a determined demoiselle plus 2

The other - my showman of renown

Muddled you said ah yes there are

Dark corners in every soul and

Satisfaction is hard to come by

Physical attraction is gripping 

By the soft spot of my vulva

It grows pounding in my ears

And so like all female beasts

I embrace the member - wildly

My so-called career - not much

nothing really to show for it

but the love of books and reading

knowledge and wisdom found

in those oeuvres - has given me 

insights to the human soul -

with lots of surprises in between

mostly to my own reactions

trying not to be judgmental 

and be a humble curious

An epitaph over me - at my funeral

would be - she loved life - 

.... a memory ... she felt all human

erring often - trying the rectify

her mistakes - failed like anybody

yet - yes nothing human is unknown

even though the inhumane hatred of ...

.....

alas I did make a pact with life/devil

and it smeared - it oiled -  it tempted

but if it had not swirled - boiled

it would not have been worth it

it is all a matter of perspective

and I have been damned lucky

after all.......

Fluid haiku

Fluid forms of flights

Fascinating for fliers

The flowers of spring 

Jump to a kick

Warm peanut  butter cookies 

On a dreary rainy wintry day

Stamp out the blah 

Simple creations abound

Whenever your mood is off

Do change to ‘rah

The endorphins in your brain

Can be jumpstarted with spark

Wise chutzpah 

Testosterone

 Testosterone’s action 

Or rather sluggishness

Will create havoc

Within a male body

And among twelve 

Symptoms sex 

Hair tiredness 

There is also an ailment 

Called osteoporosis 

Modified it can be

By female estrogen 

So it is yin and yang 

Scary endings’ times

 In the oral surgeon’s  wait room

Awaiting my tooth’s final doom

Old age approaches candidly

I feel sadness vividly 

Only today I am truly a crone

I sadly left my tooth’s alone

Nevermore will it for me chew

No wisdom for me to brew

Except accept that this is the end

No ifs no buts my fairy tooth friend!

Candi limerick

 There once was a man from Honduras

Whispering To his lady it’s scandalous 

You will not succumb 

Even  though it’s plumb

And it taste is like sweet candifloss

Only here

 Only here within these pages

Can I breathe freely and think

Whatever comes to mind

While the words froth wildly

And the waves from the cells

Burst into tears or foam  madly

Laughing joined with ecstasy 

Only with words of preying

On my innards at nighttime 

Abhorring  the dullest suburban 

Life of an old unwise woman 

Outside and inside my soul

My body’s rebellious act

Ironically I am younger today

Speedily time will count hours

So my lightheartedness drowns

And I will due at the spreading

Of my ashes cooled by the sea

Albeit ere I go life will take 

Another turn - clapping dancing

Winds of the wild soul prevail

Only freedom of imagination 

On an unknown itinerant psyche

Stylistically as always searching 

For the absolute phraseology 

It is the amalgamation of quiet

Deep and daring sadly hemmed in

By obligations and alas acceptance

Therapy for a Voelva

“Old age”was haunting the haggard voelva

Not because she was particular poorly

But because for a long while her desire 

For lust and lewdness was waning

A deep loss of a physical phenomenon 

When she no longer felt  the skin

Of a lover or a partner in crime

Then how could she not agree

That she was of an age to die -

Dormant days of wintry weather 

Inside her willowy bones and flap

Were building a marish momentum 

Of winding circuits and dantesque dams

Only to be stopped steadfastly 

With the admonished  aplomb from 

Her own owlish sister Sophia 

With whom she debated always

And never questioned her witty wisdom:

Masterly masturbation techniques

Tended with lovingly care by herself

Vigga for you the Voelva not to die

A thousand times you must help

Yourself and your body yonder

Play out whatever sordid scenarios 

You will need for your release

Massage therapy is not nearly enough 

Enliven your inner urges to surge

On gossamer gothic clouds of yore

To strengthen your sad skeleton 

You will nudge nudge nudge

Your reddish rose and inflame her

Until your breath and breasts burst

Only then will the Voelva wake up

From her drowned doomed self

And once more feel present and part

Of her own oddly shaped existence 

A mind of one's own

Disorganized completely

in my brain's cells

something slowly disappear

without the water's well

a horizon of clear

imminent waves

the hunger's need

just calmly here disarrays

to lovingly feed

the slow burning sweetly

of mindless words 

no deeds - absurd

(I just couldn't not put it together)

Dog desire

I'd  love a dog in my life

but my life is not dog rife

it is not even remotely so

but I still want another go

Think of the dog - yes sure

but a dog is such an allure

of friendship and of love

anything else pales above

will I succumb to my want  

or by.a pug always  haunt'd?

 

-ismen det er også os

Kølige ismers tid 

er  højst bortgangne 

nu er det en funk

-lende dragende tid

og ismerne lever

forsat  - et dunk

flere på grund af

et ovenud væld: en

cyper/mørkepunk

formel drage-søgende

fanatiker der hæger

som en augustinermunk

med sin inderste

celle i troen på

en forvorpen halunk.

(Titlen Midt i en isme tid af Peter P Rohde

kom pludseligt frem på nethinden) 

En regardant des émeutes sur un écran

Dès qu’on accepte la violence 

Et on dise absolument rien

On reste partout participant

Du fait en coopération 

Dès qu’on fasse rien sur des crimes 

Contre quelqu’un n’importe 

On sait bien qu’on est coupable 

Des non-commission vives

Dès qu’on coopère avec le mal

Le spectateur sans le vouloir 

Est un malin ‘sans portefeuille ´

On est tous des anti-samaritains

Une semaine

 Lundi - rien

Mardi - quoi

Mercredi- hein

Jeudi - foutre-moi

Vendredi - le menage leger 

Samedi - encore rien

Dimanche - le spleen complète