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Showing posts with label jan oskar hansen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jan oskar hansen. Show all posts

Sunday, May 6, 2012

When Oil is Gold

by jan oskar hansen

Sea mist came rolling obscuring the sad sight of stranded
cars, no oil, no gas buy a Cadillac for a song; buses are
still on the road, long queues and fistfights and electric
scooters are now too expensive for the ordinary punter.
A man upland is now rich selling mules and donkeys,
when he started out ten years ago people laughed, what
a silly man; his brother, who used to be a cook, sells hand
drawn carts. The army, the president and his merry men,
all experienced riders, have confiscated all the horses.
Hollywood has stopped making cowboy and Indian movies.
This brittle western economy, we saw it coming,
but we continued to dance on the roof of SUV's.
In the mist I can just make out a clan of Gypsies
making their ponderous way across town,
carts drawn by tiny horses with elegant
legs, dogs and laughing children, for them our collapse
means nothing they have always been poor, now they are
less so.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Mermaids and Goats

by jan oskar hansen

The tide was leaving, damp sand by the winter
shore and I feared sharks that kept guard and
wouldn’t let me set sail. Gulls flew overhead
waited for me to look up so they could peck
and blind me if I looked up to the heaven and
spoke of my sorrow.
Gleeful mermaids, dressed in sealskin coats
sat on tourmaline stones and knitted a crown
of seaweed for Neptune while chanting a song
that made fun of him in a language he didn’t’
get as he sat picking sea stars and tiny crabs
off his beard.
Walked along a dusty road flanked by goats
with yellow eyes but they scared me not only
sharks do, till I came to a wooden gate where
an Arab mare asked to be set from her coral.
I opened the gate door and she flew to the sea
and soon harmonized with the rolling mist.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Remembering a Summer

by jan oskar hansen

In the backyard of the house that had never
been painted and had so many people living
inside that it looked like it was ready to burst,
the sun flooded- high summer- as bluebottles
circled the rubbish bin where a big rat sat and
catlike cleaned its face using a piece of broken
glass as a mirror. I patted the rodent on its head
it smiled showing healthy teeth and sank them
into my hand before running down a hole.
My dad used the last of his whisky to clean
The wound, mother was glad for that.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Drowning of Dreams

by jan oskar hansen

The lake in this landscape of stones and sky, is dark, forbidding, yet
alluring. Like a hypnotic eye, come nearer and see me. My depth
is endless all you illegal dreams rest in my bed. Come swim in me,
dive and I will show you the sensual shock you have denied so long.
You will see your parents in a sexual embrace floating by, your lust
to join them will be unbearable, out of reach of your ejaculations.
There will no respite, no hiding place for dreams you have refused
to see. Has morning light, has rescued you from trying truths?
As you sink further down the hell of your existence shall drag you
into a flagellation of desire and you’ll see bones of those who gave
into their yearning, forever live in the hell of impossible desire.
The lid of my dark eye shudders turn back now, let me embrace
the forbidden and your secret will go unspoken, like shifting sand
in Sahara where only silence survives.