Compassion for what’s far away
Oh my children, why? are you complaining, falling, screaming when i need your help with Borrioboola-Gha, the venture for which our funds have dwindled. Oh my children now be silent […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Spiders delivered through flames
My bones were once lighted with stars, and with God given ass; making love my fingers caressed your careless guitars. I foresaw what humanity sowed but I gave shit, injecting […]
On skates
On skates, when carried by the wind across the solid glass of ice you feel like flying. Below you see the pale shadows of rocks against the solid black of […]
Island of your words unsaid
On oily doldrums, in the silent sea an island lies. It’s filled with crosses and on craggy shores are rotting carcasses of moored intentions and the words unsaid are feeding […]
A carefully selected mismatch
Spontaneous is carefully selected mismatch, expensive socks unpaired and designer patchwork parkas made in Bangladesh. It’s feng-shui of the coffee-shop where posers order oolong tea. It’s zen on Instagram and […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 