Dikt om forhold mellom mennesker

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En dråpe av lengsel henger i luften;
Et sukk over den uoppredde sengen
ved tanken på deg.

Åpningen du har i hjertet for meg
kan jeg krype inn i med den største lengsel
og møte Gud.

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Du har et tredelt hjerte.
Arrene mellom dem
viser et fredsmerke.

Sett utenfra står det opp-ned,
men ikke ovenfra slik du ser det.

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Ja, jeg blir fornærmet 
når dine stikkende ord går pil-rett inn
i organene mine.

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Jeg skjærer dypt i papiret
med blyanten
istedenfor å skjære i armen med kniven.

Likevel renner det blod fra halsen
og ned til brystet
hvor det drypper ned på papiret
i hjerteformer.

De treffer dine blinde punkt
som dekker hele arket;
Det rene og feminine.

Du la så en skygge på det.
Ville ha det bort,
men da ble det røde sort.

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Ikke tro du skjønner hva jeg er
når du ser på skyggebildet
med ryggen mot lyset.

Du ser ikke engang omrisset av min kropp,
kun formen på en tykk, lang jakke.

Om du tror beskyttelse mot kulde
viser mitt sanne jeg
vet du sannelig lite om meg.

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Jeg er en levende fisk i mitt rette element.
Kun mat i min manns hender.

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Han setter kjepper i hjulene
og gir meg skylden for at sykkelen ikke går framover.
Jeg hjelper han fri fra kjeppene, men så snart sykkelen triller igjen
setter han en ny kjepp inn. Barnevernet synes synd på han
og kjeppjager meg.

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Når jeg var opptatt av deg
og du var borte fra meg​
var også jeg fra meg
og ble vill.

Så nå har jeg tatt deg
fra topp til tå inn i meg
så jeg kan kjenne deg
når jeg vil.

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Mitt lange hår omfavner ditt korte.
Ditt hode går inn mellom bena mine
og opp i mitt.

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Jeg vil rydde vannet
av landet mellom oss.

Vise grunnen til det
som omgir oss alle

så vi bestandig
kan gå til hverandre.

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Når du ikke avfeide meg,
men kjempet deg fram for å nå meg
selv om jeg forsvarte meg,
trykket en stråle seg gjennom alt mitt mørke
inn til min indre lysflate.

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Mannens romslige, varme blikk
smelter jenta fra mammaens grep
og kaller frem den innesperrede kvinnen bak de to
så hun med ro i sitt sinn kan utføre livskallet sitt.
Jenta kan leke fritt når kvinnen kan elske.

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Tomhet er baksiden av suget

Å spise, røyke eller ruse seg hjelper ikke.
Suget er mer omfattende.
Tomheten rommer hele meg,
så jeg vil trenge gjennom deg
slik at tomheten som følger med
gir hver celle som blir berørt av ditt innerste
plass til å vibrere.

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Jeg vil svelge meg
og fordøyes i ryggraden.

Hengi meg til kroppens dans
av kjærlighet

til buktende armer og ben
og smelte inn i din tunge.

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Skal du nærme deg en kvinne
bør du gjøre det med ørene.

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Jeg holder deg i kinnene
i stedet for å kysse
fordi din tunge er uten ende.

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Jeg har fått nok av katteaktige menn
som bare vil gni seg inntil noen
for så å gå
uten tanke på andre enn seg selv etterpå.

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Han etterlot seg fire tomme bokser med øl.
Var så tørst han helte det hele i seg
og etterlot restene til meg,
som om jeg var interessert.
Han likte vel å tro det,
men han smelta på tunga.

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Den har uhell i kjærlighet
som treffer de som blander den med spill
og enten jukser for å vinne
eller ikke er redd for å tape.

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Jeg strekker meg etter min elskede,
men når han er for trett til å komme og kysse meg
slikker jeg solen stedet og rekker min tunge til vinden.

Luften går ut og inn til bunnen av meg.
Jeg sykler med åpen munn
til han vil komme med tungen sin.

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Du kaller meg egoist som gråter
uten å forklare grunnen,

men det er jo det jeg gjør
når jeg vasker bort det som hindrer meg i å se;
Tømmerstokker, tunge.

Jeg hulker så de skakes opp
og faller ned.

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Trærne var sammenvokst ved roten,
men stammene sto hver for seg.
Piggtråden rundt det ene

hindret de å gjenforene seg.

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Jeg var luften du fantaserte i
og førte for langt av sted.
Forfengelig som bare det.

Til jeg pekte på etikken.
Da plutselig stanset du
så jeg datt ned.

Du fattet meg aldri opp etter det
og jeg fant deg ikke noe sted.

Du var tilbake
i din innestengte atmosfære.

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Hvis du synes jeg er for mager
hvorfor ser du da så sultent på meg?

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Jeg ser ditt begjærlige blikk.
Du eser av gjæren,
jeg krymper i fortærelsen.

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Uten plass til foten faller jeg
for deg og svever til jeg treffer bakken.
Jeg bør tåle den; Bli myk nok
så jeg ikke brekker ben jeg vil gå med
en mann opp bakkene, men før det skjer
ligger jeg brutt sammen, ventende.

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Den skamløse er ikke uten skam.
Han har bare ikke festet seg til den.
Så når han går over streken
fester skammen seg til en annen.
Først da er han den foruten.

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Min far lot meg aldri holde hans hånd.

Jeg fikk holde hånden til min mann

gjennom natten.

Selv om han sov

jeg gråt, jeg gråt, jeg gråt.

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Lyset mennesket utstråler
skinner på visse deler av deg
som så utfolder seg.

Om du med et menneske
blir grov og virker umoden
skyldes det dennes indre tilstand.

Om du vil utvikle deg
så lyset i deg skinner klarere
finn mennesker mer modne enn deg.

For hva mennesker elsker er forskjellig.
De retter sitt lys deretter.

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Når noen spiller mitt blod ut
som om det var råtne sporer i vann
og løper gjennom våte enger og spiller søle selv,
vil jeg tilgi da?

Ja, fordi noen har det våtere og glattere enn andre
så det glipper for dem lettere.

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Han støter meg ut av meg selv.

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God is me

I had asked in my mind if it's ok that I ask God for a lot, or if that is like treating Him like a slave, so when I contacted God today I approached Him carefully by just thanking Him. Then I felt His consciousness close and saw an image in it that showed me ​that it was Him.​ I​n a split second I got a vision of how ​Him​ and I are connected. I found it hard to breath for a while.

So called spiritual new age people go around saying they are God, but what I saw was that God is me. He is not just the consciousness that listens and takes care of all my needs. Because He is me, of course He provides. Everything He created must be Him, without being limited to it, of course, because He is also the all embracing consciousness. ​So if ​He is me He will not feel like a slave when I wish for something. ​We​ ​are ​cooperating​.​ Because ​He is me I shouldn​'​t feel bad for wanting anything​.​ He is the experiencer just like I am. God lives out His will through us.

I feel lucky to get visions like this, but as He is me it's just natural. A person thinking she is all she can possibly have contact with wouldn't open her mind to be able to receive input from the higher consciousness when ever she needs it. That is the difference between a religious/spiritual and a not religious/spiritual person. 

When we compare ourselves with God we are nothing. If we connect with God He is us. I meditated on my insight later the same day and He gave me a confirming quote from the bible saying: I am with you always. (Matt: 20:28) ALWAYS! What I saw in my vision is what that quote means. He is with us so so closely.

Poems about eating disorders

Into the world.

This girl looses herself.
She's loosing weight as well.
Tightly she holds on to her will,
she doesn't dare to tell.

She has a heavy mind,
filled with gems and pearls from the sea
but looses brain fat to get light-headed.
Not many will fertilise heavenly seed.

She needs a heart's endlessness in the world
to fulfil herself
and the will to fill the world with treasures
from her wishing well.

Why do some say she should be bigger
when they no room have to feel what's in her?
It's not that she mind eating. It's words unkind she mind.

She wants to show her bones
so it's obvious to see where her boundaries are.
It is hard for others to accept them, though
when they hit her hips so sharply.

Why don't anybody ask what's eating her
instead of complaining until she's downy
that she's skinny and needs a cure?

The purpose of the hunger strike fails
when the pale corpse falls before anybody cares
to pull up her chin, instead of pushing her to sin.

It is easy to support her, really,
because she carries the cross.
If there is an open heart she need not shout
with her eyes, wide, the storm inside.

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I don't want to be superfluous like fat.

That is why I hate it so much.

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Why don't you interact with me?

I'll give you some space.

Take away some fat so you can fit in 

right under my skin.

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Dad, how can I dare to eat

when you make fun of everybody?

Mum, how can I eat

with your head over my plate?

I'm not afraid of food, but the contempt

you feed me with, mum

and the joke you see with me, dad.

The bitter one munch on her heart, mum

and the one who make a fool of others are a fool, dad.

You both and I have no control over our tongues
and someone has to weigh up for that.

Weigh every bit thoroughly.

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I am the spoon you eat with

My skeleton is a handle with hips upon.
My mum crushed my ribs between her teeth
and dad pulled my arms out when he left
because I couldn't let go of him.

Men want to slurp the soup under my navel.
I expect someone will come and take me,
but what is left doesn't crush and I am hard to bend.

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ED is death,
not breathing down your neck,
but right at you with black, toxic breath
that surrounds, fills and stays with you
so you can't see clearly
and everything seems scary.

You only hear negativity from ED.
I wish I could be like a little faerie
because life is dreary,
or a saint at service full time selflessly
who get enough energy from Sundays hostie.

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The times I starved most severely
was when the people around me
didn't care, as if I was air.

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Frozen

The girl with anorexia may look cool

in her clothes. In fact she is freezing

while she's covered in wool.

Sunny friends must stay away

from a heart and mind that's frozen

into the same routine every day.

No crack let the sun through the guard

cause there's no room for melted ice

in a ground that hard.

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How can she eat
while someone's eating her?

Do you see now why she can't sit still, 

but have to flee from her enemy?

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After the devil left my womb
I feel like the devil's child.

No longer suppressing sexuality
or the volum of my voice and laughter
that bothered mum intensely.

I am the opposite now: Sensual, sexual 
and I laugh instead of cry, instead of asking why.

I am the immature me finally, free.
This is where I have longed to be.

Anorexia stopped me from developing, maybe.
I feel like 12 again, but this time without anxiety.

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I found my heart has also room for me.
I will no longer hide 

behind a "skinny body" identity
or under thick clothes too baggy.

I can be a good person finally
because in a heart with love 

there's no room for fear or hostility.

If I gain weight or not the heart doesn't care.

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When anorexia had got a hold of me

I was in a prison cell 

where the only ideals I could see 

was the ones it was showing me 

and under my recovery

the disease hung on like an iron ball.

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I am in a large elevator shaped like a storehouse

with dark grey, damp and rough walls.

It is far down so if I look up I see no end to it.

I can't see if it is a roof or a sky up there.

The elevator goes further and further down

and I neither know how to stop it nor get it up again.

I haven't looked for buttons. I avoid the walls,

but it isn't me who is in charge of it.

Suddenly the floor goes down.

It is empty except some cardboard boxes in a corner.

It is utensils to eat with, but I don't care about the content

because I am just waiting in this room 

until I can come to heaven up there.

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You call me a concentration camp inmate, 

hoping I will gain some weight,

but you are my captor, snake

who consume me with your corrosive spit

from your large sizzling bitter pit.

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Deprivation

I want to be skinny to be free, 

forget the world in euphoria,

but I can't omit the needs of my body 

and as I hold it in my grip

I imprison myself in the world 

I try to overcome.

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She denies herself the slightest hint 

of food and life expression.

If only a fold of skin is detected 

it needs to tighten up.

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I think I am strong when I starve on,
but am driven by fear. 

I think I get meeker, but get harder,
rigid and frigid.

I cry from my core

and before I'm satisfied I die.

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I want to throw my whole body up

in the toilet.

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No Body

Your view is important to me
so I melt away when you see me as nobody.

I try to make you aware of your scary view
by appearing as no body.
Cause how can I have matter
when my view don't matter to you?

If you don't see my point then
I hope my bones get edgy enough to make a hole
through the wall you have put up towards me.

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I feel divided in two;
a mind with no body to rest upon,
and a body that feels very much alone.

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When no one fills my heart
the whole body is empty.
Then what's the point of having one?

So I starve instead
of killing myself.
Hoping love will catch me
before I fall in the grave.

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I never eat until I'm full.

I am afraid I will explode

because I am a ticking bomb.

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Only an anorexic girl like me

would worry about coming to heaven

with too little energy

to serve God as much as is expected.

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Anorexia recovery is like moving to a new place

and breathing in a lot of oxygen 

after spending a long time unwilling to breathe 

in a poisonous environment.

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Now that I'm thin

can you see what's wrong

under my skin?

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As I hold the body in my grip

I capture myself

in the world I want to overcome.

Poems about family

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I was born and imprisoned
to free myself so I could liberate
those who arrested me.

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They didn't raise me.
I became the lowest of the low.

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Inability

I expected my parents to be happy for me.

I didn't put the fact that they were unhappy

into the equation 

before I blamed them for neglect.

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Mum

You become so happy to see me
because you think I'm looking at you.

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I waited daily for your attention,

but you just let me be abandoned by dad

and criticised me for everything that wasn't like you.

When I gave up the hope of ever being seen and heard,

you started to listen, but then you were already dead to me

and when I forgave you for your debts 

there was nothing left between us.

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Yes mum I'm sick,
because you have spewed 

all over me.

¤

Angel tears runs down
soft, round cheeks from big eyes.

A beldam had hissed bitterly.

Tiny steps on the pavement
with lumpy shoes.

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You were under bitter water
when I stretched my hands after you.
You pulled yourself up with them
and dragged me down simultaneously.

Your insults speared my belly
like poisonous spears.
I tried to spew up the poison,
while I was ravenous for your affection.

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Mum rebuked.
I puked.

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You drove me crazy.

Out on the highway

where I was run over

by people in a hurry

and depressed into the asphalt

where I got stuck.

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No, I can't collect myself.

I am a soup mum threw out the door 

where a door mat should be

so others could walk all over me.

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You throw my thoughts back in my face
and my emotions freeze to my flesh. 

I need you, but you don't nurture me.
Just let me down to my sickbed
with words cold and heavy.

Unless they are like yours 
you tolerate no move,
but out of sight you don't care what I do.

Happiness is strangled in these dark rooms.
Craziness can fill the sphere,
but nothing can bloom.

I have to shake it off to God
who burns it with His wisdom;
The crazy thoughts, the dirt from you;
Such dark, dumb criticism.

¤

I felt far from inadequate as a child.

I stretched so far I tore apart

to come close enough to mum 

so she could reach me,

but she never popped into my world

before I passed her pushing further,

this time hoping to impress her.

We never came together.

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How can you look down on the self destructive?
Don't you know the cause is degradation?

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You couldn't put up with me
because you never put yourself in my shoes

and you didn't get me.
You kept seeing you.

You never held me
so I had to cling 

not to loose touch.

You didn't stand up for me.
You looked down on me.

You upbraided me
so I frayed.

I was too much for you

so you belittled me.

You don't put up with me.
You only know debasement.

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If I am to starve myself
until it shows how little you can see of me
I would only be a porous skeleton,
you see right through, as if I was air.

I want you to be able 
to see me behind the surface,
but because you can't
I have to decompose my body.

I know you can not interpret this,
but if I use words instead you won't listen
and if I show emotions you feel no sympathy.

¤

Her heart was occupied

so I got obsessed with her,

but I didn't get one session.

¤

It wasn't agreeable to clean mum.
To scrub away scorched scraps from a life
out of a pot with steel brush and knife.

She looked like a hag with burning rage
when I scraped and scraped
and she thought I was the devil itself
when I hacked the evil out.

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You say I have become too thin and ought to eat more.

Can I really be tiny enough for you

who wants to fill all the room for attention?

How can I change my eating pattern
when you don't wish the natural for me;
To be alive or dead?

Therefor I live in limbo
crammed in between two walls
as the isolating filling material.

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How can I not get insulted
when your word-arrows
penetrates my organs?

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I'm not in your path.
I have my own
so you don't have to shove me
in the ditch.

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Your stuffed doll

Scorned I gnawed over the knots
to undo the threads you had tied me with
and get rid of all the rubbish
you had stuffed me with.

You called me unseemly and purl,
but I'm not the costume
you tailored too tight.

¤

If the woman you have helped a thousand times

calls you unkind when you for once say no
she reveals she was never thankful

for the times you helped.

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What lingers in my heart tells you nothing.

It doesn't express words, but blood of pain.

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Deflated

My abased mother became stuck-up
by jabbing her child with a shepherds crook
when it expressed itself. The air went out of it
and only the skin on the ground remained.

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Dear mother, enemy,
my shadow you carried
until I was freed
from servility.

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You drove me crazy

out on the highway

where I was run over

by people in a hurry

and depressed by the cars

into the asphalt

where i got stuck.

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I became a fighter

to stop a monster

within my mother

and teach her goodness,

but when the job was done

the fighter in me

could not be undone.

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I wished you put yourself in my shoes,

but in your darkness

you couldn't see my navy blue.

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Daddy

How astronomical you become

when God is so atomic in you.

If you dared to be petite

God could contain the big bit.

¤

My defence mechanism has been to hold myself up 

with a tight grip around my ribcage.

A grip like my dad had

when he stumped my feet on the floor,

like a cigarette

he couldn't extinguish

and I also felt others had on me

since his grip was ingrained in my body.

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When you pulled away

my heart was pulled out as well,

but you didn't bring it along with you.

It hung in the air somewhere

as if you were still shaking it loose

from my body like you used to do.

Flat as a leaf it fell from the tree

down in an empty water well 

made of hearts of stone.

Sometimes a rumble behind the wall

threw me up in anxiety

so I from above could see 

my life was a prison.

Was it Jesus knocking 

on the other side, maybe?

To wake me up from the dead?

Too depressed to open up to people

I had no other choice than to pray;

Lift up the heavy manhole cover of pride

and crawl up through the content of my mind.

Jesus came down and told me the way out

and in pieces with heavenly influence

I got my soul back from His Father.

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My son

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A glowing lump of wax is growing in me

to a black pointed mountain spearing the ice.

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My baby is the feeling

after making love.

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You meet me with pollen

falling heavily through the sunlight

and down on the moist ground.

¤

Every unexpected sound

pushes forth the absence of you

and it is so empty without you here

you fill the whole world around me.

¤

The little, dead bird on the pavement

is as stripped of meat as I am of yours.

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I wander the streets looking for you

even though you are miles away

because there is nothing I can do to see you.

This restlessness reminds me of 

my biggest heartache.

Just the sight of a frowning face

brings forth pity.

If only I had a shock absorber man

whose stomach I could lie upon

I could free my tears

that are drowning me.

¤

I feel your deep sorrow.

That ocean is the only thing

connecting us now.

¤

A crow walked outside the house hollering

as if it was proclaiming

somebody has treated you and me unfairly

and made us very unhappy.

¤

Mum started crying when she heard 

what you had dreamt,

but I will not jump from the roof.

I don’t want to wait more than necessary

to be able to hold you again.

¤

Without your voice here

this house has become

a contemplative monastery.

¤

It is raw outside

so the best is to in your snug bed lie.

Our pet sleeps under the blanket with me

while you have to sleep with your enemy!

¤

To have a son

evened out the loss of my dad

as a child.

¤

You are so soft

that you are unbreakable.

¤

The woman's wounds
gives blood to the child.

Suffering is the price
for the gift of love.