Faithless day
The ditch looks different in twilight, when colors pale, and shadows grow That’s when the poppies turn to blood and branches mimic bones. He remembers the brown of mud on […]
Category Archives: Real Toads
The time has come
It takes a kid to see that emperors wear clothes paid for with the blood of other kids. Shame on me; shame on you on every wimp who failed to […]
The last of the acorns
The last of acorns from my stately oak now rests; a poem in my open palm and echoes stories that the summer spoke, it tells of rainbows, storms and evening […]
For the stars (if anyone cares)
I sense it: the void I am filling with sixty percent water, some average bones (more solid than air); yet my thinking is silent and dreams are much more than […]
Birth of a new nation – an anthem
Hail to the chief, praise you, protector of wife-beaters, missiles and coal. Hail to the liars, to foreclosure kings, and slumlords of faked gilded halls. Hail to the chief, polluters […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 