Category Archives: Writing

Poem: Crutches

They are my support
To help me walk,
Every day.

If I lose one
I make damned sure
To keep the other one.

While slightly imbalanced
I can still walk
With only one crutch.

Tomorrow
I'll be back on two
Balancing myself again.

If I drop both,
Insisting I can walk
Alone without them
I hurt myself more
Causing pain, tears.

Tearing up wounds
With each step

Tore down my defense
My support
My crutches

Neglecting myself
Hurting myself
Killing myself

Mania,
triggered,
paralyzed.

Breathless.
Through the dark.

Recovery.
Day by day.

Silence. Alone.
With this pain.

Never will I drop all my medicine on the same day, ever again.

a whiff of fallen leaves

I wanted to describe the smell
Of the fallen leaves, rustling
Smelling like only fall leaves do

Different than the decomposed
Spring smell
Still indicative of season change

What words do I use
For these dry heaps
Of fallen leaves
So you can smell them too?

Do they smell the same
In every place where leaves fall
In the fall?

The smell is stronger
When moisture meets each leaf
Something about the surface
Connecting with the air,
Spreading small molecules
Flowing through the air
And finding their way there

To your nostrils
Their final resting place
In the fall, when they calm
You down and tell of the ending season

On How do you make time to write?

When I read this question today the first thing, and the truth, that came to my mind was “I don’t”. Then I wondered why? Why don’t I make time to write?

The problem isn’t that I’m not making time to write, the problem is that in not making time to sit and be bored.

Taking the time to do nothing, walk the forest, or sit in silence. I realized, by being asked that question that I don’t need to make time to write, I need to make time to fill my head with the things I want to write. Then the time writing them doesn’t have to be as long.

A silent ride on your commute, no music.

An evening without movies, or games, or books.

I fill up my alone and still time with sounds, or I sleep. I don’t give myself those minutes I need to just put two and two together to want to write something.

When I was younger it was incredibly important to me to write every day on my blog. That was the only way you grew I felt like. On the other hand I had a close friend 10 years ago, who took the time to think and waiting for the puzzle pieces to fall into place before he was ready to write down his posts.

I don’t think this is for everyone. I don’t think it was always for me. I used to write things out as soon as possible, even live blog events. Maybe I did that as a process to be able to move on to the next event, conference, happening to cover. I needed to clear my head.

These days I’m more like my friend, I wait for a lot of puzzle pieces to form in my head before I write them down. This works most of the time, a lot better than trying to write when you just have a tiny kernel, I find waiting for the cup to be full makes it easier and less painful to measure (sorry about the mixed metaphors).

This line is thinking is now more relevant because NaNoWriMo literally just started. Where people are pushing out 50k words in a month. And I wanted to participate, in a way that fits me and where I am now. With this post in mind, I think I’m going to take 60 min every day, while I’m alone and just sit with my thoughts, and see where it brings me.

That said, I also believe that learning new things is an important part of writing. Reading new books, from new cultures. Reading experiences from people who are not like you. Find some piece of history to engorge yourself in.

Never stop learning, and you’ll always have something to write about, just remember to give yourself pause, and make space, rather than just time, to find something to write. Give your head rest, and take a deep breath.


If you enjoyed this bit of musing, and would like me to be able to write them more, feel free to head over my patreon and pledge your support!
Alternatively, check out my support page for more info.

Sick and Sick

Being sick and energetic. 
It's such a weird combination.
I'm not the same sick now
as I was then,
but rather I'm a normal kind of sick
instead of abnormal.
You know, then I was undiagnosed,
and sick for years
--just imagining things--
now I'm here and queer, wait that's not right.
Well it's exactly right but not for this conversation.

My throat needs clearing
my lungs help out,
one cough after another,
an itch impossible to scratch
deep down my throat.
It's like the words are just stuck down there,
unable to move, clawing at my throat
from the inside. Screaming LET US OUT!

What is so strange about this kind of sick
is that it's supposed to be normal
but it doesn't feel normal
because I already have plans to do other things,
what do you mean I have to cancel my plans
and take it easy?
I spent 8hrs doing nothing yesterday, isn't that rest?
Not enough,
apparently.
And here I am. Better than ever but also sick

Being sick and energetic.
It's such a weird combination.
Sick in a way I have not been in a long time,
after cutting ties with the outside world.
after not being able to go out there and enjoy it,
I am now right here today going stir--not crazy
--I'm restless, but I need to rest,
because I've got a cold,
or tonsillitis, who knows.
But the cold isn't getting better
and I'm bored of resting.

Please LET ME OUT.

How can you be sick when you're this energetic.
It was just a small cough--What do you mean I lost my voice. Oh..

Being sick and energetic.
It's such a weird combination.
Is that why they are trapped there,
the words I want to share.
Clawing at the inside of my throat, screaming, and crying.
Please please, dear Madame let me out?


If you enjoyed this poetry, and would like me to be able to write them more, feel free to head over my patreon and check out the tiers there, $2 will be giving poetry straight into your inbox!
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Project: Farmor – stories (un)told

This is a slightly edited, albeit early, version of the Project Proposal I made for the Creative Writing Project course I am taking this spring. The course is the equivalent of writing a BA Paper, but in Creative Writing.

If you’re curious about why I’m so obsessed with poetry this spring, this is why. While it wasn’t recommended to switch genre from the other courses to the project (I’ve taken Creative Writing I and Creative Writing II at Malmö University in the past), I argued that my circumstances are special, and that I find that poetry would best fit this project. My tutor instructed me to complement my studies with a crash-course in Poetry. Anyways. To the Project Proposal:


About one and a half years ago my grandmother passed away. About 10 years earlier she and I had begun a journey for me to write about her life. She suggested to me that I could use whatever stories she told me, and rebuild them, with my own creativity and make my own stories. She had always loved my story-telling.

After she died I spent a year wanting to write only things that were real, and exact, and a biography of her life. Then, I realized that there was an opportunity here to tell more stories than just my Grandmothers stories, while also telling hers.

After pondering, and reading other works, I landed on wanting to tell parts of her journey through poetry. And not just one type of poetry, but rather explore her life, while exploring poetry at the same time, and sharing stories that would’ve been untold otherwise. Each poem should stand on its own, while also being able to fit as a piece of a greater puzzle

This is the project I want to work on for this Creative Writing Project. Fictionalizing her life entirely did not feel right, but creating poetry out of it felt like the right way.

The goal will be to deliver a poem bi-weekly for publishing on a new website dedicated to that story [this part wont happen, explained why below], after a month starting off and preparing drafts and ideas and stories I want to find. I want to find stories by talking with more family members, to have them share a memory of her, and stories she’s told.

The end goal of this writing will be publishing a small collection titled “Farmor – Stories (un)told”


This draft was then revised, in order to fit the project proposal template. But there are a few things I want to add. Referring to poetry as stories may be misleading to some, but I believe that they always tell a story, give us a picture of something. Which is what I wish to do with this project.

Now, I want to remind everyone that since I am creating this for a course at University, and will get graded (and have it checked against urkund for plagiarism probably), I will not be posting any poetry here. Until after the course is complete, and even then I may end up with a separate website for it. I’m unsure at this point of time

Lastly, I have set up an account on the ‘verse specifically for talking about writing a little bit more. And if you want to follow me there, you’re welcome to.


If you enjoyed this poetry, and would like me to be able to write them more, feel free to head over my patreon and check out the tiers there, $2 will be giving poetry straight into your inbox!
Alternatively, check out my support page for more info.