.................................................................................................
The Poetry Of...
Jan Oskar Hansen..................................
Nightwalk.
On the long sandy lane, going to the cobalt mountain,
I walked, the moon was full and hung there to gladden
the hearts of one eyed trolls who soak up silver beams
so they don't go blind when inside the dark mountain.
I wasn't alone many friends from way back when time
was young and we had dreams of doing great things,
were there too walking along with me in silence and
harmony, and there was peace on earth.
Towards dawn someone struck a heavenly matchstick,
moon paled as first light was burning the mountain into
a black shiny diamond; friends had faded away by my
indifference and now I had to face this new day alone.
Happy News Only.
Get the type of news you want sent by email to your home,
I read; yes do send me good news morning midday afternoon,
extol the blessing of sobriety, George Bush and Bin Laden
don't drink and see what they have achieved.
Send me news of peace, Palestine and Israel are independent
States that live in harmony as do the US Marine and his
Iraqi bride as they stroll through a rose strewn back alley in
Falluja applauded by its grinning inhabitants.
Send me news about animals, the gorilla is really man that
has yet to learn hygiene, such as sitting on a proper loo,
the polar bear is just a cuddly toy that longs to embrace you
tenderly, while you play with its cute cubs.
Send me news of Hollywood stars who are so happy that it
hurts, tell me what the women wear this year and who is
sleeping with whom, all in best possible taste of course, and
and who's going to win an Oscar next year.
Good news people hold hands and join a long line stretching
continents, there is no war, it's an illusion created by reporters
and greedy papers that need to sell copies and make money,
so let's sing a lullaby now that the world is a happy farm.
The Opera Singer.
It's an old scratched vinyl record,
Italian love songs by Enrico Caruso,
his voice sounds far away, as he
is singing through a tunnel of time.
A few more years and the tunnel
will be so long that his voice will not
reach us; and he will not be missed
by those who never heard his voice.
There will be new voices rising
above the discord of human clamour,
and for a moment, bring joy before
time pummels them too into silence.
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