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    Words ~ Ord!

    Words ~ Ord!

    {Dansk tekst under den engelske }

    I have so much to tell, I am a kid. I just have had a few years on Earth. My mother says I should be quiet and not talk so much.

    My words become silent.

    I go to school and am a good student. I wanted to tell so much. The teacher said I should be quiet and not fill so much.

    My words become silent.

    I want to work and try to find my place. I want to be a photographer; I want to try so much. I am a woman, and at this time, women are not allowing to be seen too much.

    My words become silent.

    I meet many people; they are over-friendly and nice. Then they start manipulating me to do what they want me to do and be.

    My words become silent.

    I am older and still cannot understand people. When I talk to them, it is as if the words become meaningless, without meaning, just a mouth moving, like on a puppet doll theatre. What do I have to say? What is important to say? What was important before is now irrelevant.

    My words become silent.

    I usually write to family and friends, what can one say now that matters? what to say. Talk about the weather, though too empty, discuss the new topics that are in all media, with racism and police brutality and social conditions?

    My words become silent.


    Before, I would be angry of things that it happens, but now. Why is no one really saying their opinion, what matters to them? Death? It has something you can touch and feel, is it? However, there is no death; we all live on in one form or another. Nature shows it in all its diversity. Is it different with us “humans”?


    My words remain silent.

    If I show others that “Now it’s enough” they get offended, scared or just turn their backs.
    Does it have anything to do with the fact that I am an “older” “younger” “child” or does it have something to do with being too thick or too thin? Is it “just” that the ugly face reappears, “Racism”


    Racism: White speaks down to black, brown, yellow or red?
    Racism: Black tells white that white must not do this and that if white would want to help. Is it reverse racism?
    Racism: Young people do not want advice from the elderly.
    Racism: Elderly people, who cannot stand the young people because they understand nothing, are noisy and do not stand up for them on buses, trains or elsewhere?
    Racism has many facets.


    My words remain silent.

    Justice and freedom, they are shouting from everywhere.
    Justice to get all his money back which the government has taken from us, to aid in any such situations as the present one.
    Justice would be that the members of the Folketing should give some of their salary to the total coffers.
    Justice will be that the money we pay in taxes to the “elected representatives” which is being withheld to a national fund.

    I use many words to say nothing.
    That is why I am not talking anymore. I no longer talk to people who do not want me to be who I am.
    My thoughts are mine and my words are mine. Sharing them with others is a situation that ends here. People do not understand each other. People do not see each other.

    My words remain silent.

    ~ © MC Inspirations

    Jeg har så meget at fortælle, jeg er et barn. Min moder siger at jeg skal være stille og ikke tale så meget.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Jeg går i skole og er en god elev. Jeg har så meget at fortælle. Læreren sagde, at jeg skulle være stille og ikke fylde så meget.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Jeg vil arbejde og forsøger at finde mit ståsted. Jeg vil være fotograf, jeg vil prøve så meget.  Jeg er kvinde og på den tid skal kvinder ikke syne for meget i landskabet.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Jeg møder mange mennesker, de er over venlige og rare. Så begynder de, at manipulere mig til at gøre hvad de ønsker jeg skal gøre og være som de ville have som jeg skal være. Jeg vender dem ryggen.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Jeg er ældre og kan stadig ikke forstå mennesker. Når jeg taler med dem er som om ordene bliver meningsløse, uden betydning, bare en mund der bevæger sig som på en mester Jakel dukke. Hvad har jeg at fortælle? Hvad er vigtigt at sige? Det der var vigtigt før, er nu uden betydning.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Jeg plejer at skrive til familie og venner, men hvad skal jeg sige nu, som har betydning, hvad kan der siges. Tale om vejret, det dog for tomt, diskutere det nye emner som er i alle medier, med racisme og politibrutalitet og sociale forhold?

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Før ville jeg blive vred, over at det sker, men nu?  Hvorfor er der ingen der virkelig siger deres mening, hvad er af betydning for dem? Døden? Det er jo en ting som man kan tage og føle på, er det rigtigt? Men der er jo ingen død, vi lever alle videre i en eller anden form. Naturen viser det jo i alle dens mangfoldigheder. Er det anderledes med os ”mennesker”?

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Viser jeg andre, at ”Nu er det nok” bliver de fornærmet, bange eller bare vender ryggen til.

    Har det noget at gøre med, at jeg er en ”ældre” ”yngre” ”barn” eller har det noget at gøre med at være er for tyk, eller for tynd? eller er det ”bare”, at det grimme ansigt viser sig igen, ”Racisme”

    Racisme: Hvid taler ned til sorte, brune, gule eller røde?

    Racisme: Sort fortæller hvid at hvid ikke må gøre dette og hint hvis hvid ville hjælpe? Er det modsat-racisme?

    Racisme: Unge ønsker ikke at få råd fra ældre?

    Racisme: Ældre der ikke kan udstå de unge, fordi de ingenting forstår, er støjende og ikke rejser sig for dem i busser, tog eller andre steder?

    Rasisme har mange facetter.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    Retfærdighed og frihed, bliver der råbt alle vide vegne fra.

    Retfærdighed til at få alle sine penge tilbage som regeringen har taget fra os, til hjælp for eventuelle slige situationer som den nærværende. 

    Retfærdighed ville være at Folketingets medlemmer skulle afgive noget af deres løn til den samlet pengekasse.

    Retfærdighed vil være at de penge vi betaler i skat til de ”folkevalgte” bliver tilbageholdt til en national fond.

    Jeg bruger mange ord for at sige ingenting.

    Derfor taler jeg ikke mere. Jeg taler ikke mere med mennesker der ikke ønsker mig at være det jeg er.

    Mine tanker er mine og mine ord er mine. At dele dem med andre er en situation der ender her. Menneskene forstår ikke hinanden. Menneskene ser ikke hinanden.

    Mine ord bliver tyste.

    ~ ©Mariane

    Thank you for your visit ~ Tak for dit besøg

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    Pennen

    Pennen ~ The Pen

    English below:

    “Pennen, der skriver den historie som aldrig ender, drypper sort blæk ud over papi-ret, pletterne fik det til at lige som om det var regn på en rude”.

    Jeg føler mig virkeligt meget uinspireret. Jeg skrev kun de ord der dukkede op i mit hoved, men der var ingen fortsættelse. Udenfor hyler vinden og fløjter når den ramte vinduerne som ikke var tætte. Jeg kan høre træerne knage ude på gårds-pladsen. En hund gør, det lyder ud over markerne. Jeg kan høre skridt i gruset på vejen, der fører op til gården, mon det er gæster? Jeg venter ingen, så det kunne være nogen som var faret vild. Jeg rejser mig og kikker ud af vinduet men jeg kunne ikke se nogen komme hen til gården. Vejen var meget smal og var dækket af træer på hver side og jeg ville med det samme kunne se en bil eller andet mo-torkøretøj. En underlig følelse af utryghed kommer snigende. Uret i køkkenet tik-kede højere og højere og i takt med lyden af mit hjerte som dunker, i det samme lyder der ugleskrig.
    Jeg forestiller mig, at dens skarpe øjne fokuserer på en lille grå kat der jagter sit bytte over en træstub og uden at tænke videre over livets cyklus tager uglen sig sammen og reflekterer over, at det er en hurtig “snack” han er ved at gå glip af.

    Månen skinner klart så jeg kan se både uglen og katten.
    Pludselig lyder der et skrig der flænger nattens stilhed. Uglen blev så forskrækket, at han glemte hvad han var i gang med og katten hoppede en halv meter op i luf-ten med et hvæs, pelsen på halen lignede en flaskerenser. Selvfølgelig slap byttet væk. Et skrig lyder igen, stilhed, det er som om naturen holder sit vejr.

    En sagte lyd, som om ladeporten blev åbnet, og én person løb væk. Da jeg ikke kunne se helt hen til laden fordi den lå i skygge af træet, tager jeg min lommelygte der hænger ved siden af døren og løber ud i gården for at se hvad der sker. Det var intet at se på gårdspladsen, jeg løber videre over til laden og åbner porten.
    Pærerne synes at være i stykker så jeg løber tilbage og henter en kasse med 3 stykker, jeg skynder mig at få skruet dem i og tænder lyset, ønskede jeg at jeg aldrig havde gjort det, for det var ikke et kønt syn der mødte mine øjne. Der lå to døde hjorte men den ene viste sig at være en ………………

    ~ © Mariane

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is MC_Div_151.png

    The Pen

    “The pen that writes the story that never ends drips black ink all over the paper, the stains made it look like it was raining on a pane”.I do feel much uninspired. I only wrote the words that popped into my head, but there were no continues. Outside, I hear the wind howls and whistles when it hits the windows, which were not tight. I can hear the trees creaking in the courtyard. A dog barks, it sounds it came from the far fields. I hear footsteps in the gravel on the road leading up to the courtyard, I wonder if they are guests. I am not expecting anyone, so it could be someone who got lost, I am used to people coming up the road asking for direction. I get up and look out the window, but I cannot see anyone coming to the yard. The road is very narrow and covered with trees on each side and I can immediately see a car or other motor vehicle coming up to the farm.

    A strange feeling of insecurity creeps in. The clock in the kitchen ticks louder and louder and at the same time with the sound of my heart pounding. At the same time, an owl screaming.

    I imagine that its sharp eyes focus on a small grey cat chasing its prey over a tree stump and without thinking further about the life cycle, the owl pulls itself together and reflects on the fact that it is a quick “snack” he is about to miss out. The moon shines brightly, so I can see both the owl and the cat. Suddenly there is a scream; it tears the silence of the night. The owl was so startled that he forgot what he was doing and the cat jumped half a meter into the air with a hiss, the fur on its tail resembling a bottle cleaner. Of course, the prey escaped.

    A scream sounds again, and then silence, it is as if nature is holding its breath. A soft sound as if the charging port is opened and one person ran away. Since I could not see into the barn because it was in the shade of the tree, I take my flashlight that hangs next to the door and runs out into the yard to see what is happening. There was nothing to see in the courtyard, I run on over to the barn and open the gate. The bulbs seem to be in pieces so I run back and pick up a box of 3 pieces after I had screwed them in, and turned on the light, I wished I had never done it; it was not a pretty sight that met my eyes. There were two dead deer, but one turned out to be one…………..

    ~ © Mariane 

     

    Thank you for your visit

     

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    Book review

    Book review #1

    I just finished a book written by Ali McNamara “Kate and Clara’s Curious Cornish Craft Shop” – Yes a long title but it is definitively worth to read. A story full of love and spirituality, describing a small coastal village with such a passion and joy.

    I love the author Ali McNamara’s humour, which is close to my own, and I chuckled several times during the time I read the book. Is it a humouristic book? I think it is a mix of everything: Love, passion, humour, seriousness, and so good and well written. Danish is my mother tongue, but she writes her language so well for a foreign to understand without any trouble.

    This is not the last time I buy a book written by her.

    Thank you very much for your visit. Welcome back any time!!