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tisdag 21 juli 2026

Divine wind: change is overdue

Howdy. Hereby some deliberations on the world situation, in art, science and politics. -- This is an English version of a post published on 21 June this year.








A divine wind is blowing through the world.

On the surface there is stagnation. In art, science, politics.

But beneath the surface change is brewing.

Change is coming. This is my prediction.

+++

Stagnation. As an example of this a Facebook friend said: American music today, both r'n'b and rock, has none of the creativity we saw in the 70s. I have to believe him because I don't listen to contemporary music. But I suspect that this is the state of things musically. Stagnation prevails. Yea, more than that; the MTV awards are literally a vision of hell. "Why has today's music become so dark?" pop star Rihanna said some years ago.

The same situation prevails in literature. Judging by the recent Nobel Prize winners, atheism, nihilism, pessimism prevail. Gray-weather prose, problem-mongering, realism and verism is the recipe. In other words: stagnation. We see none of the playfulness that previous winners like Marquez, Cela, Heidenstam, Lagerlöf had.

Further, in science, everything is stagnant in the form of reductionism, the religious worship of facts. There is little holism and spirituality.

And that the world is in the grip of a mad regime trying to kill us with vaccines, mass immigration, and brainwashing is obvious.

+++

And my recipe...? My vision for a way out of this quagmire...?

A way out of the stagnation could musically be this: psychedelia. This came in 1967 and changed everything into a creative circus. The Beatles, Stones, Pink Floyd, plus many others (Hendrix, Strawberry Alarmclock, Jefferson Airplane...), suddenly made colorful, playful music. Jouissance was the watchword.

Twenty years later, 1987 also became such a psychedelic year in music: Dukes of Stratosfear, Robyn Hitchcock, Loop...

Now we may have the same pattern. That is, it may again be time for a psychedelic year in the pattern of 20-year intervals: 1967, 1987, 2007 (?), 2027...

In literature, such a psychedelic influxus could mean: surrealist poetry. And in prose, a transition from today's social authenticity to theatrical authenticity. The latter can be described as "literary heavy metal" or "Wagner opera in book form". Or in short, sf and fantasy and magical realism. I have a feeling that the already existing fantastika genre will get a boost in the future, perhaps starting next year.

+++

The recipe for a more mindful science I have already described in book form -- how science can go "from fear to a play with many possibilities" -- and that was in BBBBB. Goethe's scientific attitude, with holism instead of reductionism, is the symbol of it all. And David Bohm, who highlighted things like "the implicate order" and flow, which today's science is blind to. In the 90s, books like Bohm's came out, but today it's a dead letter (with the exception of Jason Jorjani, who at least has some understanding of holism with his "spectral" attitude -- to make room for the so-called supernatural in science).

In other words: the goal of our time is to reintroduce God into science. Believing, pious scientists have certainly existed. Newton was a divinely led scientist in his time. And beyond his role, I believe that charisma, influxus, and intuition should be the watchwords in both science and art. We need a holistic paradigm instead of reductionism, faith instead of skepticism, a life-affirming attitude instead of death and decay, light instead of darkness.

+++

Reformation, revolution, creative injection -- this is what I expect from the coming years. And the already started political change should contribute to such a creative boom. I believe that the changes DJT already has instigated (such as the abolition of critical race theory and "diversity, inclusion, equity" in federal programs, and in a broad sense dismantling the deep state, which is an epic task, not just a matter of reducing bureaucracy) can be the starting point for it all.

+++

We need more mindfulness, more esotericism, more spirituality -- in science and art.

The ground is prepared for a spiritual recovery of a rarely seen kind. I am, as always, an optimist. And there will be no major war, we have heard enough of that doomsday chatter.

What gives me confidence is DJT's victory. That he even became president. His agenda for change seems to have stagnated a bit today, the summer of 2026. But he is still alive (survived an attempt on his life in April of this year) and still has time to implement the most epic change this world has seen in a long time. That is, dismantling the deep state.

+++

The divine wind is blowing. And only those sailing with it will be in sync with the emerging zeitgeist.







Related
DJT: esoteric meaning
Prometheus and Atlas (2016)
Good Reads, June 2022
Good Reads, March 2019
Swedish version of this post

fredag 2 januari 2026

"Rommel's Rod" as an artwork

As an art historian, there are certain moments when you must forego all analysis. You just have to step aside and say, "This is art, pure art".








This is a plastic model. Created in the 70's. And you might still be able to buy it on the net.

I here concentrate on the mere image, the pictorial side of it. The box cover with the desert scene and all.

It might me "pure camp", it might only be a piece of popular culture... bit there's more to it than that.

+++

I remember this image from my youth. It made an indelible impression on the young me.

Now for this very image, the box-art itself of the vehicle in the desert...

It touches on something elemental.

For as we know, "the desert" is the true mythical setting... it's like a clean stage where you can place anything... "what you see in the desert is the real"...

In other words, the desert war was mythical and this artefact plays on that. It gains its immense power from this setting.

Then we have aspects like "WWII, German army, controversial"... well indeed, that plays along... like portraying Rommel as a skeleton, a horror figure... maybe the devil himself... Rolling Stones springs to mind here:
I rolled a tank and held a general's rank
when blitzkrieg ranged and bodies stenched...


Rommel's Rod is an alchemical mix of Kustom Kar Kulture, WWII myth, and desert myth, all expressed in an exquisite painting and an elegantly created concept. Therefore this is timeless art.

+++

As you can see the box is signed with "Tom Daniel", the designer, the creator of this stupendous work. He did many other memorable Monogram custom car models: Paddy Wagon, Super Taxi, Cop Out... His signature is rightfully displayed on the box cover.







Relaterat
Interview with me

torsdag 22 maj 2025

Northerness

I'm a Nordic Nord, born and bred in Sweden.









Sweden is divided into three parts: Götaland in the south, Svealand in the middle, and Norrland in the north.

As for myself I live in Norrland. I live in the county of Angermanland by the Bothnian Sea. And some 60 years ago I was born in the county of Lapland, situated inland and to the north-west of Angermanland.

Both Lapland and Angermanland are northern provinces. They are both part of NORRLAND.

Now, this Norrland is a mythical part of Sweden. Just like Scotland of the British Isles. Or, say, Texas or some other rough-hewn part of the US.

I'm a Northlander. "En norrlänning" as we say. And many Swedes from Göta- and Svealand wish they were Northlanders. They envy us our Biblical erudition, a classic trait here: archaic tales of Northland farmers citing the Bible ever and anon, that's a fine heritage of ours.

They envy us our laconic way of speaking.

They envy us our stoic stamina.

+++

So then, do I have any examples of Svealand people wishing they were Northlanders...?

I have two: the poet Gunnar Ekelöf and the sculptor Anders Åberg.

The former wrote some poems about the log cabins, the rosy hue of the winter evenings, and the waves beating the shores of the Laplandic lakes.

The latter, Anders Åberg, was born in Stockholm but moved to Angermanland some years ago, starting a cultural theme park called Mannaminne. It's got old buildings, a tramway, a museum etc. It's a life-size piece of art, mirroring the smaller, wooden objets d'art that made him famous in the first place. One of these are to be seen at Arlanda Domestic Airport ("Inrikes"), showcasing the nearby town of Sigtuna in a pillar of wooden houses.

Anyhoo: Mr. Åberg fell in love with Norrland and then moved here, and then became a kind of local hero. He died in 2018 but Mannaminne lives on as a focal point for culture and goodtime, for "believing in your heritage" and all that, a fine mix of traditionalism and modernism, built log by log by Mr. Åberg himself. I myself visited Mannaminne in 2012.

+++

How shall I conclude this?

As an illustration of my Northlandic strain I might give you a poem.

It will be some lines about my Laplandic creed, called "My voyage".

My voyage began in the heart of Lapland
among drumming noids and yoiking saamis.

I danced to the rythm, sang to the northern light,
praised my creator and began my journey.

I lived among the flowers and the trees,
I read about gurus past and present,
and skimming the shelves of fantastic libraries
I finally found the Book of Books.

It was about a jewelry garden
where a wiseman held a sermon
about "I AM"... the lux aeterna

inside of you, inside all of you...
and so I learned to seek that same inner light
and be wise like him.

The voyage continues. In misty China
there is a beverage called "green tea";
I have drunken it -- and I have seen the promised land...

I'm just a human -- I'm just a human --
I'm just a human -- I'm just a human being...

Every day I brew some of that green brew
on my stove, and dream of a shiny garden,
where every tree was made of gold...

My collection of sacred books dwells safely
on my shelf. The Laplandic sceneries of my youth
are always with me. The green tea is still worth seeking.

The voyage continues...








Related
In Swedish: Mannaminne
Bibliography of Svensson
Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait (2014)
Science Fiction Seen from the Right (2016)
Actionism (2017)
Painting by Robert Svensson

tisdag 4 mars 2025

Water and stillness (poem)

Today I will give you some poems... enjoy.








This is about poetry... song... poesy... and now it begins...







Water and stillness...

My mother was Scorpio... water and immutability...

I was Sagittarius... fire and mutability...

Water and stillness, fire and movement... quite a fine combo we were...







Philae temple, mirrored in the Nile... red sandstone, lined with greenery... water and stillness...

A man swimming in a grotto, a pool under a cavern roof... water blue-green, water still... water and stillness...

A canal in a Chinese town, ancient town, brick houses with wooden balconies... water and stillness...







San Antonio --

St Petersburg --

Saintly Petra, hewn out of the rock wall --

Half Dome and Moon... Utsikt över Skuru... Montmartre in the Moonlight.

... burgundy red Renault R16, jeweled headlights, suspension wheels... Chevy wrecker truck, yellow and green, BP livery... and "Alpine Rescue" Citroën... with sled, medic, and St Bernard dog... "hab' ich euch endlich"... all this, on a background of Ströms Vattudal in midnight claire obscure...







Pearl S. Buck, the duck with the bucks --

I live in Dharma Town, looking down on Clown Town --

I only live on prasâda, consecrated wine and bread... say grace and every meal becomes a feast with the gods...







Related
Odic power
Reading Tips: SF from the Right
The Not-So-Good of Philip K. Dick
Timeline of Conservative Fantastika

onsdag 22 januari 2025

Razzle-Dazzle (poem by Svensson)

Good morning... hereby a poem.








I will now publish a poem... by myself... about being a creative writer... that which I am.



How to become a genius, a creative
artist of note...?

You need talent – and you need to meditate
on that talent, on the essence of your genial being.

And you have to shut out society, you
have to live far above human foolishness...

Living Beyond the Beyond and
Within the Within.

So remember: always meditate, always create...
be a creative self in an ever existing now...

That’s how it is done... that’s artistry, that’s
human splendor, “that’s entertainment”...!

Entertain, have fun...
“give ‘em that old razzle-dazzle...”
yea, verily...
“razzle-dazzle ‘em...
and they’ll take you up to the sky”...








Related
Odic power
Reading Tips: SF from the Right
The Not-So-Good of Philip K. Dick
Timeline of Conservative Fantastika

torsdag 21 november 2024

Wind from time immemorial -- a poem by Joannes Edfelt

It is a day at the end of November.









Hello poetry lovers...

Welcome to the show.

Today I get the urge to deliberate upon a poem by Johannes Edfelt (1904-1997).

This Swedish Academy member knew the meaning of Tradition. He sang with an ear to times past, giving History a voice. Just listen:
Wind from time immemorial, wind through the centuries, blow,
comb the grass in Edåsa, Våmb and Horn
where they rest: riders, farmers. – Long
was their toil, harsh the evening of their workday.
And then the comfort in the finality: earth and wind.
This is the poem ”Westrogothica”.

The ”riders” refer to the cavalry regiment Westrogothia Troopers. This was a unit training on Axevalla hed, near Skara, Westrogothia; it was victorious at Breitenfeld, Lützen, and Lund.

But the rider figure also refers to a rune stone with a picture of a mounted Odin.

With this he brought many things along, Edfelt. Poetry is characterized by the words being able to mean more than one thing. Good poetry carries a certain ambiguity and thus becomes rich in information.

+++

The Swedish original goes like this:
Vind från hedenhös, vind genom seklerna, blås,
kamma gräset i Edåsa, Våmb och Horn,
där de multnar: ryttare, bönder. – Lång
var deras möda, sträv deras dagsverkes kväll.
Skönast slutgiltigheten: jord och vind.








Related
Vision quest (poem)
Faustian era
In Swedish: Nationaldagspredikan 2024
The Odin figure is from an image on a helmet, found in Uppland, about 500 CE

fredag 21 juni 2024

New infinities

Good Morning. I am a lot, I do a lot... hereby a summary of my being.




I am the Jester of Chaos --
the Clown of the New Infinities --
the Orpheus of Eternity --
the Emcee of Magical Realism...

All this I am now.

I am Taiga Messiah, taigaland Messiah –
wood Messiah, woodland Messiah –
pine Messiah, pinewood Messiah...
Blue Messiah, blue sky Messiah –
red Messiah, red world Messiah –
green Messiah, green day Messiah –
gold Messiah, golden Messiah...
Ruby Messiah, red ruby Messiah –
diamond Messiah, shiny diamond Messiah –
pearl Messiah, Pearly Gate Messiah...

I am the Messiah of the north, the cosmic preacher
of the Palearctic zone...

There I stand preaching on my mountain... only God listens...
time to write a deathless poem... an exhibition
of sheer precision... a stupendous painting in
words, summarizing life, art, and politics in
the 2020s... a tough call, but someone’s
gotta do it... no one else but me has the mythopoetic
gift of fusing word and thought, image and concept,
into a new amalgam, a striking alchemical mixture...
and here it is... that vision... a vision saying, cheers
to you all, enjoy yourselves, feel the burn from the
Flaming Sword... nice ain’t it… yeah... nice and sleazy,
as the Stranglers sang... nice and sleazy does it...
does it every time.



Related
The Flaming Sword (short story)
Swedish Mystique
Richard Wagner -- A Portrait
Redeeming Lucifer
Borderline
Diorama made by me LS

tisdag 28 maj 2024

Vision Quest poem

Good morning.




I sometimes go out -- to see -- to gather visions. They are called "vision quests". And my latest outing of this kind brought the following visions and reflections.



++++++++++

A = A

AAA... the Triple-A has no maps... to the lair of great Cthulhu...

... the mysterious Galaxie running about town, the fabled phantom car... you only see its round tail lights in the distance, way down a boulevard, before it turns a corner and is gone, like a mirage...

I'm breaking rocks in the hot sun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won

+++

Turquoise --

Hyaline green --

Burgundy --

Tangerine --

If a merman I would be
I could see the sun rise
from the bottom of the sea...

Chrysantemum --

Pink petunia --

Sunflower --

Hyacinth --

... and a Cadillac '51, popsicle green, ice green, zaccharine green...

+++

Gates of Babylon, baby...

By the gates of Babylon...
where we sat down
and Dio sang
of endless gallery
enless hallway
endless corridor
leading down below
and beyond
to cooler climes

+++

Cérise --

Lemon yellow --

Reseda green --

Light blue --

Road past the Marly. Lamborghini Miura. Jerusalem, French miniature from the 1400s.

Cherry red --

Prismatic blue --

Lincoln Continental four-door sedan. Plymouth Belvedere. Cadillac Eldorado. Pontiac Grand Prix. Plymouth Barracuda.

+++

What exists in the room without windows is the true... the truly existing Sein lives in the abyss, in the dark, in the monad... like this artefact coming at you out of nowhere, shining its headlights in sad melancholia...

water, water everywhere --

city of channels... Venice of the north, Venice on the beach...

Metaphysical brown --

Marble brown --

Melanie Brown, melancholic --

+++

Creutz im Gebirge. Die Lebensstufen. The Enigma of Arrival. The Enigma of the Hour.

... that's where I roam, endlessly... among water mirrors, reflecting the sun... among streets, empty in the morning light... among houses of glass, mirroring my empty mind...

Fine white --

Canary yellow --

Porphyry red --

Absinthe green --

+++

Dresden in moonlight. Germania and Italia. Bacchus and Ariadne.

Metaphysical brown, esoterical blue... sfumata in the distance...

May I be peaceful
May I be happy
May I be free

May my friends be peaceful
May my friends be happy
May my friends be free

May my enemies be peaceful
May my enemies be happy
May my enemies be free

May all people be peaceful
May all people be happy
May all people be free

+++

Cherry red --

Infinite blue --

Goodwood green --

Everything is connected to everything else... the light that shines on me also shines on my brother... my exhalation is someone else's inhalation...

Nike from Samothrake. Porsche Speedster. Porsche Spyder. Chinese Wall. Berlin Wall.

Paolo Veronese...

Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld...

Mathias Grünewald...

Philip Otto Runge...

We must break up from the abundance of Babel to the dedication of Antropolis --

Real love stories have no endings --

The Grace of God, it made me shiver, then it made me calm --

... and if you want, pray with me...

+++

The Empire had fallen. Lawlessness abounded, chaos and anarchy. The clouds scudded over the ruins of the city. -- Then through the rubble he came, a wiseman, a preacher, a man knowing his way through thick and thin...



Related
Another poem
Jack Steelnack
A novel
Enköping, Uppland, 1972. From the Svensson photo album

lördag 6 april 2024

Poem: Sverigevän! I bedrövelsens stund, tag tomtekvasten i din hand och sopa landet rent

Viktiga saker kungörs i denna dikt... om Sverige... och dess fornstora anor... ty dessa anor bör vi alltid minnas...




Jag ska idag sjunga en sång. Deklamera en dikt. Den börjar strax. Och handlar om hur vi, som Sverigevänner, bör ta ansvar för vårt arv och rengöra den betänkliga konterfej Moder Svea idag har fått.

Nu börjar dikten.

Efter en avdelande rad börjar den... dvs. strax... dvs. nu.

+++

Vi ska skapa en myt...
Vi ska sjunga en sång...

Vi ska uppsöka vår ättehög,
Åkalla våra fäder och be dem
Ge oss svärdet, Tyrving-svärdet,
Det heliga svärd som ska befria oss...

Detta är vår vision, detta är vår vilja.
Detta är vår plan, vår heliga hjältesaga.

Så låtom oss ingå ett nytt fostbrödralag, svära en ed i den nordiska natten,
En ed som ljuder som en runosång över mossen, myren och mon –
Ett tomtebröl vi ryter där vi sitter på krogen vid bragebägaren,
Lovande guld och gröna skogar åt den nya svenska gryningen.

Vi ska riva svenskfiendernas kaoskockerella, bränna jorden och
Invinga den till en ny grodd, göra fäfots-hagen till en Baldershage –
Helga den med trollsång och rungalder, gala den till en ny högtidlig
Ära, en ny fruktbar äring i årgångens Arlanda-dån, ett Torsvi med åskdån –
Det ska bli blixt och regn, livgivande regn för Ole, Dole och Doff, Snacka-och-
Fikandets Skyddshelgon i glöggfryntlighetens eviga sammetskokong.

Broder! Sverigevän! Med tomtekvasten i din hand
Ska du sopa rent i det horhus som svensk kultur blivit.

Du ska rensa ut stadskultur och betongkalsong, du ska gynna
Svensk futurism och gammelgammal asavurm, du ska
Dansa för evigt till bronslur och näverlur, träda Hälsingehambo
Med tomtar och troll – svenska troll, svenska tomtar, inga
Fjärran drumlande intigheter som lockats hit av jötnabingo och demondans.

Ty detta är gudarnas land, asarnas heliga jord. Här styrde fordom
Oden, Njord och Frej... de tog en bit av sitt eviga ljus och inkarnerade
Sig i svenska stormän, i kungaämnen, bjässar som blev utkorade till
Kungar, grundläggande Sveriges äldsta kungaätt, Ynglingaätten.

Detta är Sverige, detta är vårt förflutna, detta är våra hävders början.

Detta, Sverigevän, är dina anor, ditt arv och eget...
Detta är ditt odal och ättearv...!

Detta är du, detta är ditt...
Ingen kan någonsin ta det ifrån dig...

Så vad göra? -- Jo -- tagen tomtekvasten i din hand,
stäm upp en runsång enligt Agrellrunornas mönster – ur, thurs, as, reith –
Hör bronslurarna tona in och se hur varg och lokatt fylkas kring dina fötter,
Se korpar och kråkor virvla runt ditt huvud, se stormen nalkas och vanvettets
Virvel rotera runt ditt huvud där du står i hjärtlandet och leder dansen –

Dansen runt midsommarstången, dansen runt Irminsul, världspelaren,
Alltets symbol à la Yr, Man och Sol-runan... dansen börjar vid
Pelaren, polen, ryggraden... och sedan går
Långdansen från Norrland till Skåne, från Dalsland till Sörmland, från
Östergyllen till Västerhav, till Bohus och Halland och Bleking och Smygehuk.

Sverigevännen sopar landet rent med sin tomtekvast och mular
Alla Sverigehatare tills de kvävs av sitt eget hat. Med Brageharpa,
Näverlur och Heimdallshorn tutas en ny sång för gamla DJs, en sång
Som ljuder genom vårens stormande natt, som skapar ett ledmotiv
För en nordisk renässans, ett svenskt satyrspel, en germansk mani –
En germanomani som för evigt ska lyfta vårt land ur den ynkedom
Det hamnat i under tidigt 2000-tal, Förnedringens Tid...

Vi ska för alltid sudda ut dess minne genom asarus, forntidsvurm,
nordiska former och alviska färger.



Relaterat
Bertil Malmberg hedras i Härnösand
Boye: Kallocain (1940)
Gedin: Verner von Heidenstam -- ett liv (2006)
Ballard: War Fever (1990)
Vikingar. Linoleumsnitt av min far

fredag 23 februari 2024

Poem: "I'm still alive"...

Poetry time...




When Curt Cobain died Eddie Vedder sang,
“I’m Still Alive”...

A celebration of life in a time of despair.

In the same way, when my brother died,
I was – after receiving the news,
ruminating over it,
internalizing it – glad to be alive.

“I’m a survivor”...

And, “Angie, ain’t it good to be alive”.

That feeling, the sadness at someone’s death
and at the same time, a quiet
joy of being alive oneself.

“To exist is nothing insignificant,” as Frithjof Schuon said.



+++



I spent some time browsing the internet for “authors having
killed themselves” – this leaving me in the same state – of sadness –
and also a quiet joy – of being alive. An oxymoron.
Not arrogance, not haughtiness, not vindictiveness,
not smug self-satisfaction. Just a mixed sense of
sadness and serenity.

Sylvia Plath, gassing herself to death because of depression.

Virginia Woolf, drowning herself because of depression.

Karin Boye, taking an overdose of tranquilizers because of depression.

Vilhelm Moberg, drowning himself because of depression: he went “to seek
the waters,” “jag går att söka sjön”...

Hemingway, shot himself because of depression.

Otto Weininger, shot himself because of his magnum
opus Geschlecht und Charakter not having made an impression.

David Foster Wallace, hung himself because of depression.

Stig Dagerman, gassed himself to death with car engine exhaust
because of writer’s block and depression.

Norwegian writer Leonard Borgzinner:
he shot himself, hard to know why... He even said
in 1980 that his only ambition was to live another ten years.

The list of authors killing themselves goes on and on.

Writing is a high-risk occupation.

Angie, oh Angie, ain’t it good to be alive...



Related
Cars and stars
Art by my late brother
In Swedish: Karin Boye
In Swedish: Leonard Borgzinner

torsdag 22 februari 2024

Poem, 22 February 2024

Greetings, dispciple.




We will today give you a poem. A short one.

The shortness aside, the poem says everything about the situation today.

Here it is.

++++++++++

Living in Dharma Town, looking down on Clown Town,
faith is like a tower, for those who believe...



Related
Bibliography of Svensson
Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait (2014)
Science Fiction Seen from the Right (2016)
Actionism (2017)
Painting by Robert Svensson

söndag 24 december 2023

Jul, jul, strålande jul...

God morgon i vinterottan....




Min vän Ildefonsa Impala sa häromdagen:

"Det lackar mot jul. Och det gör mig lack. Fetlack."

"Varför då?" sa jag.

"Stressen," sa hon. "Fridens högtid inverterad till stress med köphets och socialt tvång."

Då sa jag att jag kunde förstå det till viss del. Men det fanns ju så mycket annat. Som medeltidsaktig mat av marinerat och saltat slag, filmer på tv med förnumstiga, pisshumanistiska budskap, och ateistiska artister sjungande kristna julsånger.

"Ahh, du har rätt!" sa Ildefonsa. "Det är något visst med julen ändå. Som att se Jill Johnson i tajta läderpants stå och torrjucka i altaret till Johannes kyrka, sjungade "Away in a Manger". Gå runt på stan i ett lätt koma och ta in stämningen av pynt och dekor i närmast "hinduisk" anda -- allt ska pyntas, änglar och tomteväsen i varje vrå. Och som sagt maten, den sönderkryddade, överarbetade maten, fet och oätlig, från kött och fisk till bakverk. Så nu ska jag sluta klaga och gå i koma fram till Tjugondedag knut. Ett månadslångt koma, nästan."

"Man kan inte kämpa mot julstämningen," sa jag förnumstigt.

Med andra ord: GOD JUL...!



Relaterat
Byxdress i Düsseldorf
ÅVC
Svenska berättelser

tisdag 14 november 2023

The Dreamer's Description (poem by Svensson, November 2023)

Hereby an epic poem... this is the gist of my creed... enjoy.




I will now give you the poem titled The Dreamer's Description.

The middle part of it has been published on the blog before. It just had to be included.

The following is a resounding statement of my creed. I got the inspiration for the title from Castaneda. In that corpus Don Juan once tells his disciple, "Are you ready for the Sorcerer's Description of the world?"

This held some weight. A statement leading to untold vistas of wonder and glory.

So this inspired me. But also, I must say: to avoid the sometimes bare-bones, un-musical nature of the Castanena books I went beyond it and called my creed "The Dreamer's Description".

That is all I have to say. It connects somewhat with the "Golden Yoga" I presented in Astral War. The doctrine of art as ethics.

Now let us go to the poem. To The Dreamer's Description.



++++++++++



This is the Dreamer’s Description... take notes.

This is Golden Yoga...

This is Mythopoesy...

This is a white limo with a diamond as a hood ornament... this is the portal symbol for my poem, this is the virtual stone lion guarding the entrance...

I am one... holding one gem in my hand, admiring the snap and fire, the luster, and the play of light in this very stone from heaven...

I am an army of one, a university of one... I am a magician celebrating his birthday... by giving you the Dreamer’s Description of the world... so listen up, I will say this only once...

It is all very simple...

I read spirit into everything – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...
All I do is sleep and dance and sing – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...
I see everything as myth and metaphor – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...

I always return to the same dream –
I’m old in the land of dreams –
dream is all I do – so everything I do, say, preach and teach
becomes dreamy, becomes the Dreamer’s Description of the world...

+++

I’m a full-time dreamer,
an astral citizen,
a myth-maker and a magus.

And my world-view is called,
the Dreamer’s Description.

To appreciate it, you must
have read Borderline, Actionism
and all my novels – and live by them.
Live by Action As Being, Movement
As A State and Memento Mori.
Living by art as a way of life. Living
the spirit of, “life and thought are
inseparable”.

You can’t sit at home concocting
the perfect moral system. You have
to test it IRL by trial and error.
By living it.

Do this, and you’re approaching
the Hero’s Journey, the Actionist Way,
the Dreamer’s Description.

+++

The Dreamer’s Description
is giving you the signs
to build a dream on...
dream on... dream on...

+++

This is the Dreamer’s Description of the World.

This is caput mortuum, cerise, and leaden grey.

This is Odin, Krishna, Silvery White, and all their friends... jötnar and gods, angels and demons, vittra and elves...

This is Zwei Männer den Mond Betrachtend... this is Jupiter and Semele, Toteninsel, Der Wanderer über dem Nebelmeer...

This is Europe après la pluie, The melancholy of a street, and Nic Roerich’s Arjuna...

+++

My grandma used to tell me about vittra, shiny white creatures of the woods... this is the Dreamer’s Description.

My mom used to read me fairy tales... bedtime stories for a child of the moon, a child about to dream... she used to sing to me... and later on, she introduced me to Tolkien… she read of Gollum, living in a grotto beneath a mountain... very dreamy, very magic, very bronze age...

I am a magus maestro, untouched by the rational world view... I am assonance, affinity, mantra, spell, charm... my creed is given in myths, stories, riddles... I seek THE WORD, the word rich in meaning... rich as gold, rich as honey... “in the beginning was the Word, and in the end also” as the man said...

Dreaming of women... dreaming of Henrica... dreaming of Melina...

Woman, forest, ecstasy... death, night, blood... myth, saga, legend...

Sun, moon, sea, fire... initiation, inebriation, inspiration... bronze horns sounding out over virginal lands... pagan gods, rituals in the wood...

I’m a woods hermit and I will now enter the thousand mile taiga and live there... with my vittra damsel... in wonder and glory forever... “come on and join the elven’s dance... their wizardry and wild romance”...

She is woman, night, earth... intoxication, inspiration... enigma, fairy tale, myth... this is the future... these are the symbols that initiate us to the future... this is the metaphorical room we will inhabit...

+++

This is the Dreamer’s Description...

Dream is all I do...

I dream, and the whole world is thereby affected... unmediated... through osmosis... thus the warm, bronze shimmering Dvāpara Yuga will replace the freezing cold Kali Yuga... and the sclerotic state of things will go south... with time...

It is written in the stars.

A musical, artistic, spiritual era replaces a rigid robot era...

The New Bronze Age encourages dreaming, astral travel, empathy...

Constant astral travel –

Constant vision quest –

Permanent state of emergency –

Constant meditation –

+++

The new era calls for total mobilization for total war, total astral war...

This war is a war for your soul... and since the soul is everything – idam sarvam yad ayam ātmā – it is a total war...

Total War, Total Mobilization... Total Spiritual Mobilization...

Woman, night, death, dream... drunkenness and madness, narcissism and dharmashāstra... Krishna has 108 names, so does Odin...

Woman night death dream blood fire... this is the future... forest sea thousand mile taiga... this is the future... and not “city criticism asphalt”...

This is the dream I dream... I dream this and all are affected by it, putting the freezing cold Kali Yuga behind us... and entering a summery warm Dvāpara Yuga, an era of faith and hope, of building, of creativity, of shaping our own future... saying “enough” to the previous era of oppression, regimentation, and brainwashing...

An era of music and artistry replacing a mindless robot era...

An era of constant dreaming lies ahead... mindful dreaming... conscious dreaming... and “there is no stronger force than a dreamer awoken to action,” as the man said...

Golden Yoga –

Mythopoesy –

Dreamer’s Description –



Related
Another epic poem: Vortex Master
Golden Yoga: Life as Art
Stellar Storm (2023)
Rigorism (2022)
Nils Blommér: Ängsälvor, 1850... it rougly translates as "Elven's Dance"

torsdag 19 oktober 2023

Whirling the twirl (poem)

Hereby a poem.




Holy Roller, Whirling Dervish...
spinning top, pirouetting dancer...
gyroscope, spiral staircase, spiral DNA...

Crown hair, vertex, whorl... we all have
such a spiral on top of our heads...
a hair spiral, a twirl... and we all have
chakras inside... and all matter is spiral in nature...

A spiral motion inwards creates
matter, a spiral motion outwards dissolves it...

We all have chakras... and he who consciously
knows this, wilfully directs the energy of his
chakras, he is a Chakravartin, and he will
potentially rule the world... microcosm and
macrocosm... because these are mindful times...

These are the days...!

Kali Yuga is over and Dvāpara Yuga just beginning...
and at this conjunction I am come to you to lift you
up, elevate you into cosmic splendour...



Related
Human history
My author page on Amazon
Dog cat mouse -- a poem
Painting by Robert Svensson.

torsdag 5 oktober 2023

Lästips hösten 2023

In Swedish. -- Det har åter blivit dags för lite litteraturtips.




Jag läser. Böcker. Några av dem har på sistone gjort intryck. Se nedan.

. Svenska spritfester av Jösses Amalia (Fulsnygg förlag, 88 sidor). -- En fascinerande krönika om "svenska supen" och dess festliga förvecklingar. Det är ju så att vid varje svensk kungakröning från Magnus Eriksson till Karl XV trakterades Stockholms innevånare med en kröningsfest på Stortorget. Alltså en spritfest. Och sedan urminnes tider har man i Sverige "druckit jul" och firat midsommar med mälta, fermenterade och destillerade drycker. Där har ni "svenska spritfester" i ett nötskal och Amalias bok ger oss precis detta. Boken avnjutes bäst med en 75:a inom räckhåll, släng korken bara och drick direkt ur flaskan, så får du osökt en "svensk spritfest" i läsfåtöljen. Ledmotivet ges av en nyupptäckt epistel av Bellman: "Sup ur din sup, se supen på dig väntar".

. Prokopéernas kredens av Ivan Feting (Fett förlag, 923 sidor). -- Ni vet alla vilka prokopéerna var: diskreta dadaister i skymning och gryning genom hela Europas historia. Och här får de, äntligen, sin historia skildrad av den gode Feting som kan sitt ämne. Feting kan Procopius Credentia, det är dagsens sanning. Man skulle bara hoppas att han toge sig samman och skrev en roman någon gång. Det vore något för finsmakare: en skildring som dryper av fett, sådär som Feting själv gör.

. Omak säger skomak av Felicia Försvann (Inget förlag, 3,14 sidor). -- En polisongprydd praktkyrassiär i solens sken, det kan denna roman beskrivas som. Hör bara på denna osökta dialog i gröngräset: "Seså, sluta genast att läsa Guds verk och vila, statt istället opp och stöten ryssen i vadmalet!" -- "Jaså, är det så pass, och jag som var på väg att köpa krapplack av min faster i Kråkemåla...!" -- Där har ni det, den välljudande barockprosan är tilbaka i svensk litteratur och Försvann är tjejen att hantera densamma.

. 1,0 av Noll Ett (Smala lyckans förlag, 1 s). -- Här var det minimalism kan man säga...! Här reduceras litteratur, konst och liv till en bokstav: X. Det är bokens hela innehåll. Det är så elegant så att man tar sig för bröstet och flämtar efter andan.



Relaterat
Fenor och krom
Mythago Wood
Ballard
Min privata Operation Barbarossa
"Burning Magnesium" (2018)
Bibliography of Svensson
Ernst Jünger -- A Portrait (2014)
Science Fiction Seen from the Right (2016)
Actionism (2017)

tisdag 8 augusti 2023

Inlägg, 8 augusti 2023

In Swedish. -- Välkommen till detta inlägg.




En underbar dag... en sådan där dag då man får lust att bli ungdomspastor i Knutby Filadelfia... eller skriva ett blogginlägg...

Det får bli det senare, tror jag... så härmed lite stream-of-consciousness i konkretionens tecken... med impulser till noll och intet, alltet och evigheten.

+++

von Döbeln han red framför glesnande led. Det finns inget dåligt väder, bara dåliga kläder. Köp "Godis lunchlåda med sprit" och du kommer att förstå precis vad jag menar.

Molnen jagar --

Sol går upp, sol går ned ---

Det är på specialsträckorna det här avgörs. Och publiken vädrar morgonluft. Vi får gå ner på två femmor nu.

+++

Oljepriset ner --

Risk för alien invasion --

Olja in sadeln, den spricker annars. Olja in dina franska band, de spricker annars. Brännbart i bruna påsen, kartong i kartong, plast i plast, metall i metall och glas i glas.

Violoncello --

Fagott --

+++

Först kom realismen. Sedan naturalismen. Sedan neo-romantiken. Sedan impressionismen. Sedan expressionismen. Sedan kubismen. Sedan aktivismen. Sedan readymade-ismen. Sedan inget.

Ta det lugnt --

Koppla av --

Elementet må ej övertäckas. Stäng luckan till sopnedkastet tyst och försiktigt. Förbjudet att luta sig ut.



Relaterat
Horace som satiriker
Actionism presenterad på svenska
Heliopolis
Kungstornen, Stockholm

lördag 22 juli 2023

Preachment by woods hermit, inaugurating a new era of death and night and blood

Time for "inebriation, initiation, intuition"... this is the new attitude... this is the preachment we all need to hear...








I'm a woods hermit and an attic fanatic... having found the answer to the future of art... and the keywords are... woman, forest, ecstasy... death, night, blood... myth, saga, legend...

Sun, moon, sea, fire... initiation, inebriation, inspiration... bronze horns sounding out over virginal lands... pagan gods, rituals in the wood...

I'm a woods hermit and I will now enter the thousand mile taiga and live there... with my vittra damsel... in wonder and glory forever... "come on and join the elven's dance... their wizardry and wild romance"...

+++

She is woman, night, earth... intoxication, inspiration... enigma, fairy tale, myth... this is the future... these are the symbols initiating us to the future... this is the metaphorical room we will inhabit...

+++

I dream, and the whole of Germanic Sweden is thereby affected... unmediated... through osmosis... thus the warm, bronze shimmering dvâpara yuga will replace the freezing cold kali yuga... and the PC regime's system will go south... with time...

It is written in the stars.

+++

A musical, artistic, spiritual era replaces a rigid robot era...

The New Bronze Age encourages dreaming, astral travel, empathy...

Constant astral travel –

Constant vision quest –

Permanent state of emergency –

Constant meditation –

+++

The new era calls for total mobilization for total war, total astral war...

This war is a war for your soul... and since the soul is everything –- idam sarvam yad ayam âtmâ –- it is a total war...

Total War, Total Mobilization... Total Spiritual Mobilization...

Woman, night, death, dream... drunkenness and madness, narcissism and dharmashâstra... Krishna has 108 names, so does Odin...

Woman night death dream blood fire... this is the future... forest sea thousand mile taiga... this is the future... and not "city criticism asphalt"...







Related
Kali Yuga is over
Astral War
Burning Magnesium
Another preachment, from 2017
Asgårdsreia, Nils Blommér

tisdag 27 juni 2023

Go South and Preach -- a poem posted 27 June 2023

Hello... hereby a poem... enjoy...




We will today post a poem... it is titled "Go South and Preach"... it is about going south and preaching...

And here it is...
I’m a golden river running south...
heart of gold, golden yoga...


On a wave of euphoria
I’m going south to teach and preach
and liberate mankind...

Borne by the wings of dawn,
guided by the immemorial voice
of a myth, led on by a vision
I will go south to preach
and teach people how to dream:

“Dream-dream-dream,
and the colors will come naturally...!”




Related
Poem: Vortex Master
As I was going to St. Ives // I met Burl Ives
Poem: New Life
Härnösand diocese church

torsdag 18 maj 2023

Dog cat mouse -- a prose poem

You know the drill... I'm the modern Orpheus, the preaching poet of this era... and now for a new poem by me.




1.

This is a precious and prancing prose poem... a journey into sound, color, words, and stream of consciousness...

This is the story of Cantankerous the Beauteous – the can-can tank girl – a panzer “pom-pom playgirl”...

Shall I liken thee to a summer’s day...?

I’m a flickering fay – don’t go away –

I’m green and hyaline – join me in my submarine

She’s got a mean streak – she’s preaching on the beach –
she’s a real peach



2.

This is Actionism, creedism, my teaching and preaching routine... this is musical musings about a man and his music... this is poetic poesy by a born singer... this is caleidoscopic banter by a fire-and-movement preacher...

This is Åsele, Enköping, Berlin and Antropolis... this is Dharma Town, Runaburg, Dorylaon... this is Carl Griffensteen, Arno Greif, Jenro Klao... this is burning magnesium, MG-rattle in the distance, burning love... fire -- I'll take you to learn... fire -- I'll take you to burn...

I'll see you burn...!

This is Bonanza, High Chaparal... this is Flintstones, Fenix 5... this is Kojak Barretta McCloud... Cheers Seinfeld Happy Days... goodbye grey sky, hello blue... nothing can hold me when I hold you...

This is metal, shock pop, glam rock... this is acid rock heavy rock stoner rock... this is black metal white metal yellow metal shiny gold... you are gold, always believe in your soul... you’re indestructable...

This is black rock white rock red rock... this is preaching and teaching with a Marshall amp... preaching to the power chords... see the mountains darken yonder, black sun rising, time is running out...



3.

Ken Ray Ken Ray... Bonanza Flintstones Hawaii 5-0...

Nixon Ford McGovern... Washington Pnom Penh... hard fighting at the Parrot’s Beak...

Bonanza High Chaparral... cowboys and Indians... the steppe is burning up...

German army tank crew... British army infantry... The Tirpitz... Timpo Toys Britains Corgi Toys Dinky Toys... Volvo 1800 with jeweled headlights...



4.

Dog cat mouse... Bristol Blenheim, medium bomber of the RAF... I can play the recorder, can you...?

Patrick the Frog... Mister Men... Barbapapa...
Salt Lake City... we’ll be coming soon...
Here – comes – Bod.

You get the drill... I was born in Sweden... in a Swedish family... we spoke Swedish... but the English language nevertheless filtered through... in TV, in songs on the radio... I remember hearing Arthur Brown’s Fire rather early... it spoke to me... and I am a Sagittarius... a fire sign...

I learned English by listening to pop music... by building plastic models and reading the instructions... Airfix Revell Matchbox you name it... best language school there is... so when in 3rd grade we had English on the curriculum it got kinda basic... too basic... cat dog mouse...



Coda

Let me tell you about the Dreamer’s Description of the world...

I read spirit into everything – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...
All I do is sleep and dance and sing – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...
I see everything as myth math and metaphor – that’s the Dreamer’s Description...

I always return to the same dream –
I’m old in the land of dreams –
Dream is all I do – so everything I do, say, preach and teach – becomes dreamy, becomes the Dreamer’s Description of the world...



Related
Actionism (book)
Vortex Master (poem)
Painting by Robert Svensson

tisdag 11 april 2023

Poem, posted 11 April 2023: NEW LIFE

Good morning. Welcome to this poetic declamation.




Today we will present a poem to you. The poem is called "New Life".

Here we go.



++++++++++



I am a volcanic eruption,
the birth of a new island,
the creation of a whole new
land... Surtsey 1963...!

I am the appearance
of a new planet, a new world
suddenly sailing into view.

As a writer I’m more
than a mere scribe.

I’m a creative author shaping
new lands, new people,
new concepts – new vistas,
new colors, new sounds.

New body...!
New life...!
New everything...!


I’m a sub-creator under God.

In the alchemy of fire and movement
I'm the glorified creator of new worlds.



Related
Poem: Vortex Master
As I was going to St. Ives // I met Burl Ives
Picture by John Bauer