Thoughts About Cars
Drifting thoughts.
Interesting article I read,
in a few years robots and the chip
can take over most manual work
and cars are so advanced they
don't need a driver.
75% of the population will be
permanently unemployed.
Appealing, but who is going to buy
the clever cars?
I think we have to rethink the future.
And a last thought who the hell wants
to drive a car
that drives itself?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Pig Farming
Pig Farming
British farmers treat their pigs better
than their European counterparts,
straw strewn floors to walk on and
toys (usually footballs) to kick around
in the pen while they wait…
Alas, like their European brethrens
they will be slaughtered roasted, boiled
or smoked, usually when very young;
straw and toys are for you and I so we
can say we’re kind to animals we eat.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Unmarked Page
Unmarked Page
This blank page looks like a snow landscape
a plateau of possibilities, and thoughts not
yet born. II will leave it blank after all snow
will thaw to greenness and the plateau will
bustle of mice, men and Angora goats.
But I may write something on the left hand
corner just a small mark, nothing deep, just
to say halloo and then leave the blankness
to its own silence.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fado
Fado
What do we do with Fado, this guitar sound and
guttural Portuguese voice that has a twang of
Arabia in its heart and is pure poesy.
Life, loss longing and the finality of death, is in
songs that celebrate love’s unbearable sweetness,
our tragedy and the unobtainable.
Yes, sing me a Fado, let me hear the guitar and
I will close my eyes float in a sea of melancholy
and remember you.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Restless Heart
Restless Heart.
Moonless night is peace
Full moon and my poor heart aches
For the impossible
Let it be said with swiftness
I’m incurable romantic
When the moon hides
Behind clouds of indifference
Her absence hurts
But I will deny utterly
That I care about romance.
What I hate to see
Is an anemic moon at noon
Tells me off failures
I should have said I love you
But in a bar a girl smiled.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Illusion
Illusion
Don´t mention the moon, but it looks
like a rocking chair made gold platted
by lovers restless hands and dreams.
Park benches soft as duvet when you
hold around her not trying to blow
cigarette smoke in her hair.
Moonlight has made her face forgiving,
you know she has been married twice
and has two grown up children.
Yet you love her tonight
while the moon paints her hair golden.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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New Mirror
New Mirror
My wife brought home a new big mirror
She wanted to see all of her glorious self.
I was happy with the old one that showed
my face, upper arms and chest.
This damned mirror makes me look like
a child’s drawing of a man, a rotund body,
matchstick arms and legs. My image took
offence walked away in disgust, left me
standing there in my elderliness, staring
into blank eternity.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Within The Circle
Within the Circle
Around the burned down stable, near
the oak that was struck by lightning,
there is a silence within the stillness.
I can hear screams of stabled mules
running in circles trampling each other
into a bloody mass and falling beams.
Within the circle sheltered by whispering
leaves I can hear rattling of chains and
the forest afar sings of endless sorrow.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen
poem by Oskar Hansen
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From Face To Faith
From Face to Faith.
As, Christianity sinks into
ennui of middle class tosh
of an all forgiving god.
Zionists, claim their right
defend themselves against
the people they robbed.
Moslems zealots are busy
blowing each other up
and playing the victim.
Atheists are hateful of
those who believe in god,
call them deluded.
Good luck to you; may
your faith not blind you
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Equine and May
On the flatland was a field so green, had cute blue
flowers that tend to disappear in end of spring.
The pasture was framed by purple poppies and no
sheep around, those infernal eating machines that
graze meadows into wasteland.
Stood in the middle of this succulence,
the aroma was overwhelming.
I swooned.
Sank down on my knees buried my face in the moist
wondrousness and wished I were a stallion.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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