And it cannot by changed
When end of days are darkly bled to restless sleep and hollow laughter of rotting flesh and living dead When end of days are darkly bled the hope is waning […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Knowing darkness better
“Every day the world grows darker, intolerance and bigotry keeps growing…” Hammad and Johnny stood towards the back of the crowd , hand in hand just listening. Behind them a […]
The perfume’s heart
This poem is a potion made from sandalwood and myrrh, and usual stuff like attar from a midnight rose, cinnamon and ambergris, a touch of thyme and rosemary, but underneath […]
Bad night
We’re waiting, smothered in this cheerless darkness of a dying year, waiting in this lack of light for another dawn to break, waiting for a listless dawn to break the […]
Chosen
When I’m low, when skies are grey with merry mirth please make my day, but take it slowly, dear, to cheer me up when you with toddies warm our cups. […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 