Author: Jombert

Jaques Rosseau sa (slik jeg tolker det) at vi alle lever på samme jord og vi må leve sammen, fordi vi låner vår tid på den. Ingen må få ta mer enn andre og hevde de har rett, når de bare har tatt rett. Vi må ta vare på jorden.

Hva har dette med noe å gjøre. Det er bare en kommentar til en tid.

Men likevel, menneskets sjel er det samme til hver tid (Sigrid Undset)

Problemene vår er de samme som når Jeriko falt til mennesket.

Til og med når vi framskynder klimaendringene ved å pumpe gass ut for å tjene våre økonomiske lyster (de til de rike og de med makt). (resten av oss må bare jobbe, ha bil, mobil, er fanget i hedonismens hjul) er en type krig, mot oss selv , mot planeten.

For å sitere en anonym kilde, vi vet hva vi burde gjøre, vi bare vil det ikke, vi har det for gøy som vi har det.

Og så har vi problemet med de endeløse krigene som pumper mer og mer gass ut i atmosfæren.

En enkel bønn

måtte vi ta vare på planet vår

glemme vår hedonistiske

og krigerske natur

og finne en måte å leve på

som gjør at vi kan leve

i pakt med hverandre og naturen

Cold, cloudy, rainy days

sun, where did you go

what did we do for you to go away

Someplace across the sea

the weather is so hot the leaves

crumble to ash in the sun

A child says he longs for the heat

The old man chuckles

Cold is cool, heat wears you down

Soon, you’ll long for the cold summer

…

DEN sterkeste står for seg selv

Vi er sterkere når vi står sammen

Solen og månen liker å ikke dele

himmelen og bli sett

men de kan ikke

unnslippe hverandre

The red color springs

Among the leaves

The few leaves of red

the blood red wine

this deep drunk conviction

that it makes everything better

is subjective

wine gave me the push into

a grand mal seizure the first time

red red wine, who wants to live forever

nobody wants to live forever

so bring me down

six feet under

with a lightning strike

made by my own brain

while I sleep

I’ll bite my tongue

my heart will stop

and I will not even know

i’ve become a red leaf

red wine, among the green leaves

and grapes

that still breathe

in a way

don’t do it to soon though

I want to see how it all ends

But I know I cannot

The world is on fire

The world is a flood and a landslide

We build more, more AI

Because that makes sense

In any sense that is nonsense

humans are a brief lightning strike

between the second hands somewhere

when somebody tells me you’re sabotaging your life

I relax and say that doesn’t matter

(we were just here briefly, for a song and a dance)

(and then it’s just over, I like sitting, or walking,

standing makes my leg shake)

(I can’t train it away)

we get sentimental about the things

the objectives and subjectives and verbs and so on

of life

but in the infinity of it all

(theory is that even infinity has a kind of end

but that end is the beginning of something else)

we are just here for a lightning strike of life

appreciate it while you can

I don’t know what the end is like

but I do believe it is likely

that it is the beginning of something else

En reisende munk møtte en gammel dame ved en elv. Hun bar tunge sekker med noe. Han sa, jeg kan hjelpe deg å bære de sekkene. Hun sa nei, hun ville bære dem selv. Han sa ålreit, vil du bære byrden alene, er det helt ålreit. Han fortsatte å gå. Ok, du kan bære en av dem , ropte hun til ham. Munken snudde og løftet en av sekkene. Når de kom til den lille hytta der hun bodde sa hun takk. Munken sa nei, takk for at du lot meg hjelpe.

A traveling monk met an old lady by the river. She was carrying heavy sacks of something.

He said, I can help you carry them.

She said no, she would rather carry them herself.

The monk said allright, and walked ahead.

Okay, you can carry one of them, she called out.

The monk walked back and lifted a sack.

When they came to her little cottage, she smiled

Thank you, she said

No, thank you, the monk said, for letting me help.

when one cancer cell becomes more

when one people and country takes

another

becoming bigger

the final cure

death of the organism, death of the people

death of the country

the aliens drive by our barren world

a single samaritan alien

puts up a tombstone

with the text

“Greed was like a disease, they could not survive”

Fire, fire,

mitochondria fire

the heated world

too warm for man

the chilled world

too cold for man

mitochondria gives us the energy

to watch our hands do nothing

as the wave of our own design

comes crashing down

there is no reason to be sentimental

it’s just another road-kill, car crash

nothing we could do about it

some would say

standing there

knowing lightning struck

that something has be lost

it will not come back

maybe pray like hell

to get it back

but it is probably gone

forever