Like you

I've been to hell
and it looked just like heaven,
I made a friend and I felt forgiven,
like you, and everyone else

I am ashamed but, I’m just human,
With oceans of dreams,
and seas of confusion
Like you, and everyone else

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, and everyone else

They put me away, told me I’m crazy,
I don't belong but, maybe they'll save me,
Talked to the pain, it's been here forever,
the drugs make me sane, but they don't make me better

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, like you

Losing my faith when I say I believe,
Looking at you for the answers I need,
walking away from myself, trying to be
like you, and everyone else
Everyone else

Talked to me, talked to me, talked to me,
till this is over
Talked to me, talked to me, talked to me
and I am worth fighting for

Holding my breath when I just want to scream,
hiding the face I don’t want you to see,
making a mess of myself trying to be
like you, like you

Losing my faith when I say I believe,
Looking at you for the answers I need,
Walking away from myself, trying to be
like you, and everyone else.



Walk in the rain, let it fall on my face.
There’s a shadow of doubt but a sky full of grace,
I’m not like you, and everyone else..

Beth Hart (2010)

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

it is not enough

it is not enough just to
miss you. i have to learn
how to walk again; how to
live without meat and
kissing, how to sleep
shaped like a balled up
fist. it is not enough
just to miss you. i have
to adopt twins in
Africa, name them Lost
and Weird, forget to
feed them. i have to
go to every pet store
in America and rescue
all the seahorses. i have
to tattoo D A R K B I R D
inside my lip and stand
in children's playgrounds
like a broken arm, creaking. it
is not enough just to miss
you. it has to hurt. i
have to write poems
that last forever, interpret
dreams about buildings
burning down, flies who
leave their partners for
sad New York waitresses. i
have to work on my
posture. shave my head, wear
white dresses. i have to
be a chaffinch when i curse
into my fingers. it is not
enough to just miss you. i
have to be a crazy
crocus-woman; my lovely
hand curled close around
your heart, a bud sealed
tightly, tightly, tightly...

kilde

Venninna mi jobber med et kunstprosjekt, kalt dagens outfit, hvor hun lar seg inspirere av bloggsjangeren, skriver dikt, lager bilder og lignende. Sjekk det ut da vel^^

Ein fin liten blome

Ein fin liten blome i skogen eg ser,
i granskogen diger og dryg,
og vent mellom mose og lyng han seg ter.
Han står der så liten og blyg.

Sei, ottast du ikkje i skogen stå gøymd
der skuggane tyngja deg må?
Å nei, for av Herren eg aldri vert gløymd,
til ringaste blom vil han sjå.

Men ynskjer du ikkje i prydhagen stå,
der folk kunne skoda på deg?
Å nei, eg trivst best mellom ringe og små,
eg føddest til skogblome, eg.

Ein dag vil den stormande vinter deg nå,
då vert det vel dødsdagen din.
Då kviler eg lunt og har snøkåpa på,
til vårsola kysser mitt kinn.

Eit bod frå min Herre du blome meg ber:
om einsleg eg vert på min veg,
så veit eg at Herren vil vera meg nær,
Gud Fader, han vernar òg meg.

Om enn eg er liten, har Herren meg kjær,
med honom eg kjenner meg sæl.
Kvar morgon meg bøna til himmelen ber,
med bøna eg sovnar kvar kveld.

Ein kledning eg fekk av min Frelsarmann kjær,
i blodet hans reinsa den er.
Den høver for himlen, der gullgater er,
den høver for vandringa her.

Som blomen om vinteren visnar eg av,
men gled meg, for då står eg brud.
Lat lekamen kvila med fred i si grav,
mi sjel, ho er heime hos Gud!

Ja, glad skal eg vakna hos Jesus eingong
i morgonen æveleg klår,
og blanda med heilage englar min song
i himlen, dit døden ei når!

Johan Alfred Blomberg 1890