Old death anew in fire
A Night of Wonder pt. I
What comes as through neglects
this kindled fire
within a bosom of tyrants.
My fire scorches the Earth
and you suffer my embrace.
What creates this stalemate
of equlibirium mortality
is but a whisper and a tear
of love and hatred combined.
We suffer together
through a world without justice
yes – it is without justice
I see it now.
I’ll be on my own.
I will tell you the truth now my love.
I will kill you all.
All of mankind.
All that you are
and All that you will be
I am the antichrist and more evil than anything Jesus could ever conjure.
I will gather heretics and summon a revolution where women will be raped to death and children forced to suck cocks and penises until chocking on man’s sex. I will no longer hide who I am for I have faced misery. Why should I control myself when the world turns against me and curses the thrills of Life i dwell in without my baptism so holy.
Oh how I love you – the woman with blonde hair and frosty eyes. I can tell you. You are not my betrothed yet I love you. I have for many years and
Jag älskar dig [I love you]
I cannot let these thoughts of your corruption and the gears within me that turn and screech through misery and torments of others that you prefer over me from shredding my soul to a flamed entity of the damned and the blessed.
She whispered “I love you.”
I saw it. I cannot neglect it. You left with him (NOT ME) yet I am bound to another
(OH HOW MY FUCKED BEING SADDENS ME: I WISH I DID DIE AND LEFT NOTHING BUT CRUMBLED REMAINS THROUGH THIS UNHOLY STATE)
I see her terror will rise
AND THEN IT DIED
AND THEN IT DIED
The pain of losing someone – how can I explain it? It is not death that steal but the neglect of love that drive them both towards enflamement, into Oblivion.
To deny that you love someone by means of superficial qualities – the equality of appearance cannot be denied therefore we suffer without reason.
FEEL MY HEAT
I will compress time and give everything to me and let everything become all and nothing to remain.
Existance will be denied.
– F H Hakansson
F. H. Hakansson 
I certainly do hope the antichrist within you does not get to the steering wheel. The Reavers are bad enough in fiction!
Though there are no truly bad people, simply broken and ignorant ones. And surely part of our challenge is to overcome our personal brokenness and ignorance.
True! Though I tend to only let him drive this vessel when I need some inspiration for my poetry 😉 Let’s hope it stays that way.
I agree. Increased understanding for each other will go a long way – yet there will always be those who exploit, and no matter how much attention given, will never be “fixed.” The Science-fan within me hopes that one day we can fix even that…
Crossing my fingers too, but damned difficult while wearing this spacesuit. 🙂
Wow that’s hardcore. A bit scary.
Yes it is actually. When I re-read it before publishing I didn’t recognise myself (or my writing). I still think it’s a good piece of work despite being different from my usual trade 🙂
I was kind of curious until I got to the part with raping women to death and forcing children to suck cocks… that’s when I lost it. Shape up please- I really must protest! I dont like it at all. Sorry, just being honest. Dont get me wrong: I belive of the free word and do love horror. But there are limits.. You can do better my man. I know it.
I find that part quite disturbing as well when I read it. It is grotesque, vile, and extremely graphic. Yet I find it necessary for the raw nature of the poem. It is an extension of the metaphor Huxley uses in “Brave New World” where young children (from infancy) engage in erotic games and plays. I use the extension here as a metaphor for unsuccessful attempt by our society to tame human nature. You are, I am, like all of us – biological machines who are nothing but slaves to a machine ruled by electric impulses according to a pre-set scheme found in our genetic code. Putting restrains on sexuality is a way to pretend we are more than human.
That’s why I speak of a revolution – either to truly make us beyond human or to create a world, like the one in Huxley’s novel, where we can shape the world according to our innate desires.
This is, of course, nothing that I wish myself. It is something the narrator of the poem desires because he fails to find an outlet for his urges and wishes the world to be like that of “Brave New World.”
And to be honest – it’s not a matter whether I can do better. This poem is brilliant in every way and saying things like “shaping up” is irrelevant. It’s simply a matter of deciding what tone the poetry I write will carry.
Now THIS was interessting dude! This is where I recognize the sharpness of your mind! I admit I agree to the maint point of wiew in your reply, but I still have a hard time for the part of the poem mentioned. And, that I believe I the most important thing for us workning with culture. To be able to say “I understand, but still disargree”. Rather than just flusch it down the old WC. If you know what I mean. Some critics working for example mags are often too fond of just flushing I think. Great book by the way- Brave New World!
Thank you! Yes it is easy to just dismiss creative work (and the critique received) instead of embrace it and see what’s good, what’s bad, and why it is the way it is. I do appreciate your comment because it is not often one (I) recevies such criticism.
And yes – Brave New World is amazing. It has provided me with a lot of inspiration.