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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 28 apr 2017 22:07 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:51, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 29 apr 2017 04:02 
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Jeg oplever stædighed og arrogance
En ringeagt overfor mennesker jeg ikke forstår
Som jeg ikke prøver at forstå
Skyklapper der peger mod egen navle
Imens jeg panisk forer
Mit hårdtoppustede intellekt
Og tænker tanker en hver idiot har tænkt.


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 29 apr 2017 10:02 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:52, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 29 apr 2017 13:45 
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:D Markant bedre digt end dit forrige.


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 29 apr 2017 14:45 
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Plukker i skoven du ukendte svampe?
Lad da først lillebror smage derpå.
Dersom han dør under skrigen og krampe,
da bør du selv lade svampene stå.
Og sker der intet med den lille?
Tja så gik den portion svampe til spilde.

- Poul Sørensen

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Lov og ret er et net
med så sære masker i,
at de små hænger på
og de svære slipper fri.


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 01 maj 2017 05:46 
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^Stille og rolig, pænt køligt.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 18 dec 2017 19:20 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:52, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 19 dec 2017 05:08 
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Tilmeldt: 11 mar 2010 13:47
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Ikke så meget et digt, men nærmere en rap tekst jeg skrev for noget tid siden og har været for doven til at indspille.

det perfekte menneske, du ved jeg ender det,
jeg fixer natskygger for at trippe uendeligt,
(spilder) 029, ægte 7 12 10
feedback og støj, så kan ingen høre mig skrige,
AT jeg er et crackbaby kælderbarn, en uønsket frekvens,
uden form og fokus, 0 intelligens,
så nu ryster jeg og sveder, det er den sidste konsekvens,
når jeg spilder min eksistens, i den samme sekvens

hver time i mit døgn, har kun brug for en ting,
jeg ryster og jeg sveder, mit liv går i ring,
hver time i mit døgn, har kun brug for en ting,
jeg ryster og jeg leder, mit liv er ingenting

for stimulanser var mit kald så depressanter blev mit fald,
jeg flygtede fra en anstalt, så jeg ku spytte asfalt
ingen værdi, kun et halvt tal,
og stofferne de giver mig snart et krampeanfald,
så frekvenser og venner var mit eneste valg,
men der var ingen garanti, på menneskeligt affald,
så jeg må give afkald, tage noget afstand,
men jeg er alt for arrogant, til at kontakte min fucking bagmand,
men du fandt, det der bandt, så når vand er lig med sand,
er der ingen vej tilbage, jeg er spild af proviant

hver time i mit døgn, har kun brug for en ting,
jeg ryster og jeg sveder, mit liv går i ring,
hver time i mit døgn, har kun brug for en ting,
jeg ryster og jeg leder, mit liv er ingenting

_________________
Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 JEG HADER MIN FORSTAND, SÅ JEG SNIFFER HVAD JEG KAN Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍 Manji 卍


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 08 jan 2018 23:26 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:52, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 07 feb 2018 13:19 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:53, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 25 maj 2018 14:16 
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Geografisk sted: pacing haste eternal escape, never looking back
dagbogsside skrevet til digt, fra korrespondance med penneven


Citat:
Went out last night into town, seeking out midnight mishaps, hoping to run into someone I might know to lure into a relapse. Anyone really - but there were no-one out and about, a huge disappointment leaving me feeling sad and then silly, having gone out a stimulant-induced nocturnal, looking for trouble after sundown. My inner animal now out aloud, with the inflated ego's esteem and a runaway drive, leaving me no-longer earthbound, but flying over the town, scanning the crowds for friends waiting to be found. Landing outside one of the many dive-bars around, to search for fellows relieving anxiety and memories with liquids ranging transparent gold to the darkest of brown. A taste of bitter leaving sensation of numbness, subtle pleasure, easily provoked feelings of aggression increasing round after round. A numbed frontal lobe making ethics and morals diminish, turning humans into cavemen by organic solvent-induced regression, grunting, pissing themselves, swinging out on impulse, now neanderthals incapable of any forward steps toward transcendence, invalid is now any previous evolutionary steps of progression. The lowest stage in the pyramid of surviving essentials; the unconscious psychological means ensuring functionality fundamentals, a premise for climbing further up a ladder to fulfillment leaving it perceivable; living for anything other than eating, fucking, sleeping and breating, a life attractive and now achievable. The bars per inhabitant ratio of my hometown is outright outrageous. They call this city "Paris of the North" - real talk from the observations of a child from the underground with a fond stimulation-bias . Danes being so withdrawn the pro-alcoholism mentality a real deal and the enablers unconsciously pressuring and flirtatious. Before entering I ask a someone smoking for a cigarette. Smoking over a pack a day since 13 and always running out in the early evening, I developed a valuable asset. Got the act of obtaining cigarettes from strangers down to a science of a low-life heathen, the request blatantly intrusive, shameless and without regret, not a single fuck given. It's a game and the highest return rate is by asking; "hi, can I smoke one of your cigarettes?" covering up your agenda with a masking, the tone of a poor addicted soul, wheezing, about to die and rasping. It works around 85% of the time, the data collected by I, the guy addicted to combustion and conversion of plant matter into ash. When it fails, the target usually go "sorry, only one left" faking the number of nails in his stash. Both the beggar and the rich man know it's bullshit, but it's said to avoid the awkwardness of plain regection, making the beggar feeling guilt for the request that harass. The resulting energy given the cheapskate, unwanted and long it lasts. The raised eyebrows induce in him, a shrug, a smug and making I the beggar lose hope in humanity, just for asking the upper class, leaving the beggar obvious he is the unwanted, unwashed and easily discarded human trash. Success of the beg, I obtain one in delight and sit myself in far back room of the bar alone and without buying a single thing. Having already used all my money on impulse inhibition, the dopamine medicine and a Tinder subscription. The four half-liter Monster's getting me up in the morning and the utility bill, as my roommates gave the final warning. Check the phone for people still up at this hour to call. All of the acquaintances reached out to, are either about to fall asleep or not responding at all. Sit there for a little while reading while awaiting replies. I look up and two chicks are entering the backroom I by myself is sitting in, giggling and whispering loudly as they approach, better get my act together or they are surely in for a surprise. They ask me my name and what I am doing in here alone, little do they know my agenda of seeking out the wildest personalities ever known, out in the town totally on my own. They are obviously intoxicated, guess they are high-school seniors, loud and to my surprise no-way intimidated. I can tell which of the high-schools in town they are from just from stereotyping their appearance. They tell me their friend - pointing toward a table in the other room - thinks I'm cute and they ask I want to go brighten her night with a warm smile, insight and empathetic tangibility, the wisdom naively evident in my verbally orchestrated coherence. While the request was surprising and flattering, I still can't grasp why the hell she would perceive me attracting at all. I'm not going to sugar-coat it though; I'm above average in the looks-department, were it not for my chronic use of fast, fly, dirty, now dry powdered go-go, from a never-ending fountain of supply. Used to look fine, functioning with a halo of healthy glow. Another time, another era where things were simple, I was innocent, beautiful and not fucked up beyond all repair. The feeling of waking up looking into the garden being suddenly aware - of grass covered in the winters first snow, birds feeding of your fathers show of heart year after year, walking out on the porch and feeling the cold, exhaling now visible air. But in the current state of affair? No way my dude. Look like death, if death was still alive, walking the earth in despair. With the great haste I have been travelling through the days and nights and days again. Has left its marks and clues for the other part to perceive and guess, the drug of choice ruining this poor bastard, leaving him a human less and less, the absence of his soul, wondering were it went, in a bar alone with no-one to relieve him of his distress. I was alright not long ago or at least it didn't shine out of me to show. An estimated 10 kilo lighter and 10 IQ points more slow. Unnaturally pale with contrasting dark circles from eyelids sagging below, obvious shining bright at one time, but that was a long long time ago. Without remorse for the consequences, the self-medication essential said to myself, hoping it would make me sleep at night. Comfortably on a reinforced web of self-directed lies, but kept awake hours to days at a time, not realizing the time growing wings and it away it flies. - Until visited by entities evident in the periphery of the eyes, before alone by myself in solitude of euphoria, now infiltrated by shadows triggering psychosis, reasoning now with irrational paranoia. Losing ability to differentiate between real and what products of the exhausted consciousness, the perceived notion of persistent observation by an unknown audience. Now to contemplate the plan to make haste and escape, the shadowpeople sharing the hidden truths of life, no one living was meant to hear, ideas not meant to digest, information so fragile and delicate, it requires protection from those out for my arrest. Needing to find the room broadcasting the transmission of my mind and body to the rest. Find to destroy audio and video of the trusted truths my mind was blessed, with the knowledge gifted me, the mission initiated with courage filling the heart residing in my chest, this will be the final test. Take whatever is left, a big one for the agility and strength, proceed to ingest, set out the quest, reaching the end of the street and feel something sharp in my breast, seems they got me finally got me, check my pulse then proceed to die from cadiac arrest


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 19 jun 2018 17:02 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:53, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 17 maj 2020 12:21 
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Her er noget jeg skrev kl 03.37 på en søvnløs nat

Tænker tunge tanker
og bakker baglæns genem dårlige minder
mens mit hjerte banker så hårdt at jeg kan mærke pulsen slå i tindingen
og mens tid forsvinder, forsvinder jeg væk fra nuet og ind i hovedet


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 17 jun 2020 11:15 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 31 jul 2020 00:05, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 17 jun 2020 11:25 
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Tilmeldt: 17 feb 2008 20:46
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Citat:
og ind i hovedet

haha, du blev utålmodig!


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 17 jun 2020 14:03 
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Tilmeldt: 18 mar 2014 21:14
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von Nordatlanten skrev:
Til Natalia


Inden du arriverede
nød jeg synet af
sommerfuglebuskene ved museets indgang
der voksede ind i atmosfæren
udstrakte med orange øjenæbler
da du ankom
oplevede jeg tidløs skønhed
det autentiske sibiriske blik
irgrønne øjne som forseglede øjeblikket
omfavnende med duftnoter af balsamico og rav
på lørdag er det
et år siden
jeg har netop skrevet et brev til dig
John bliver forhåbentlig ikke jaloux


C. R. L., 2020


Jeg syntes det er godt!


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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 17 jun 2020 15:26 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:54, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 20 jul 2020 00:39 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 30 jul 2020 23:54, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 30 jul 2020 01:14 
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Senest rettet af von Nordatlanten 31 jul 2020 00:04, rettet i alt 1 gang.

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 Titel: Re: Digte
Indlæg: 30 jul 2020 08:15 
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Tilmeldt: 18 mar 2014 21:14
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Den er god!


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