På sopptur i kongeriket.


Barbeint tripper jeg gjennom skogens kongerike
Uten antydning til verken forståelse eller fare.
Jeg er på oppdagelsesreise, og jakter etter soppens
Gjemte hemmeligheter som et naivt barn i spøkelsesalder.
Nå og da blir min skjønnhetssøvn forstyrret av naturens
Stillhet, som fremkaller ubevissthetens ristende og
Fortryllende bilder fra steder uten tidsrom eller navn.
Bak en dinosaurusalders bregne, og ut fra under en
Mosedekket stein, titter den vakreste sopp jeg
Noen gang har sett, med en svær rød flate spekket med gul.
Jeg strekker armen min mot det skattete funn og
Stopper opp akkurat når jeg er i ferd med å ta på den.
Steinen har begynt å stråle smaragd lys, først med
Den rolige anspennelse til rødglødende kull, og siden
Som den overveldende illuminasjon av Guds evig kjærlighet
Og barmhjertighet, gjenspeilet i trillionvis av smil.
I det øyeblikket reiser jeg ut av kroppen, og chakraene mine
Stiller opp i en perfekt linje mens jeg ser på meg selv
Og summen av menneskelig eksistens fra langt ovenfra.
Og i den fullkomne harmonium gjenopplever jeg livet som
I de himmelske periodene mellom jordiske inkarnasjoner,
Og alle mine daglige bekymringer og hemninger virker like
Drømaktige og ubetydelige som en midtsommers dagdrøm.
Jeg returnerer aldri helt tilbake til bevisstheten som kjent
Fra før, men beholder en liten del av den utstrålingen som
Har nylig preget mitt hjerte på en så vidunderlig måte.
I ryggsekken bærer jeg hjem ingen sopp, men trolig den
Mest ettertraktete skatt fra skogens kongerike: javisst,
En alminnelig stein — som souvenir fra livets drømmereise.

To My Beloved (my Sufi poems).


first … three beautiful poems by Rumi (13th century):



Ahhhh …

Tonight this dervish shall

embrace the Wine Seller,

and dance

in the flames of drunkenness

with my Lover.


qaddasa Allahu sirrahu …

I too smell the perfume, Master,

and I am not far behind you.

We shall soon kneel together

within the joyous breaths

of ecstatic sleep.

alif … dal … mim …

Verily, I am … Adam.


i am but a liar,

my Lover.

i promise to stay,

but you know i

will often forsake You.

i swear to friends and family

that i will bid them “farewell”,

but i will steal my way back to you

in silence, My Beloved …

like a thief in the night.


i can sense the sweet Essence

of My Beloved long before

i reach His embrace.

there is no room for

anything but our love,

and time is both

nonexistent and eternal.


i am drunk with

infatuation for you,

my Lover.

i pray that tonight

will be the night

that never ends.


last night, My Beloved

took me to the cinema.

he showed me an action film

where i was the main character.

against insurmountable odds,

i miraculously conquered the relentless

huntress Mortality, and

survived to meet yet another day.

early this morning,

My Beloved and i

sat together and rejoiced

over the divinity of the human process.

and — at this moment — i humbly embrace

the Mystery of a new dawn.

clouds over oslo-7

i am not a man, and

i am not a woman.

i am not gay, straight or bi;

i am neither meek nor strong,

and my skin is colorless.

i am but the wind blowing gently

through the tresses of My Beloved …

aspiring to become the simple caress

of divine essence: the breath

of Oneness.


lost in the assertion that

there is no god but God,

the drunken darwish is

rendered ecstatic by the

soma of perfection …

“La ‘ilaha ‘illa-llah …

‘illa-llah … Allah!” …

thus, through the magic of Dhikr,

does the Serpent

unite with the Regenerative Spirit

and transgress the mundane.

the secrets of the

unwritten runes within

the eye of the triangle

are deciphered solely through

meditations of the heart;

and the rays of initiation

illumine the paths

of those led by

nothing more than

the promise of Salt.

Bjørndal in summer 2012

Ishq Allah, Ma ‘bud Allah!

my qualifications as a Sufi are tested

at each and every moment.

call me instead: a madman of God.

clouds over oslo-14

I am off to a party

with My Beloved!

Virus has insisted upon

tagging along, and he

will surely invite his

sordid friends

Life and Death;

but My Beloved and I

will be lost in our own

private celebration

in the Wine Cellar,

and we cannot

be distracted.

This happy darwish

shall whirl and dance

in ecstasy — for an

eternal night of Love.


when the illusions

(Life, Death, Virus) fall away —

then, My Beloved!


a lifetime of seeking to expose

the veil behind the veil

has not led me any closer

to cognitive understanding

of the rawness of life,

the mysteries of the universe,

or the whimsical journeys

of incarnated souls.

while i truly cannot believe

in that which i cannot see,

i am learning that true vision

has little to do with my eyes.

the Essence of God is

permanently engraved into

my heart: Allahu!

it is there that i sit,

together with My Beloved:

smiling and holding hands

while the bombs of fear, greed,

selfishness, egotism, anger, virus,

hatred, apathy and war-making

continuously explode …

all around us.

and i sing my only prayer, over

and over again, while tears

of joy stream down my cheeks:

“La ‘ilaha ‘illa-llah …

‘illa-llah … Allah!” …


when i one day

return to My Beloved

it will not be with

bitterness in my heart,

but with humbleness for

the extraordinary learning

this life has afforded me.

i have far fewer answers

than i had before

my life with the virus,

but the wealth of new

questions i have learned

to pose gives me a richer

understanding of Enlightenment.


Excerpted from JISEI

Allah hu …



Playing with language to create new ways of writing.



Playing with word combinations, word sounds, word color and smell associations, as well as levels of language and speaking help to make poetry and prose cinematic and colorful — without long and tedious passages. I also use languages (in both pure and less-pure (or mixed-language forms)) to create a sense of closed social groups, “insiderhood” etc. In my sci-fi novel: “2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel” I went so far as to invent languages from different star systems. Here is a poem/song that appears in the novel (and which has been performed by singer Embla Laache before an audience of hundreds at the Oslo City Hall, some years ago:

EXCERPT FROM “2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel”:


Icueza cantare moenø pei
solani veinå quon mare
icueza mentari elizena che
quale øpfani en tana.

Zingara sten farno,
fantuvi goan rulci mene,
eluelco neuxpå zentaven amu.
Ulempå skovå nnana
cquerca wuleka … intelgo;
cquerca wuleka … zingara.

Zingara sten farno –
sten farno accompli.
Tes quofta Kristiania,
Tes quofta.

Tes qofta Kristiania, tes quofta Kristiania,
Tes quofta … tes quofta.