My poet debut in Kathmandu, Nepal.

I had my poet debut in Kathmandu, Nepal in 2006. It included readings at two legendary institutions: Pilgrim’s Book House (Thamel) and Gurukul Theatre. The performance at Gurukul Theatre was quite memorable. The theatre was filled to the brim with poetry enthusiasts and poets, sitting in seats, on the floor and many standing. The program began with short readings by twenty of Nepal’s best known poets, after which I took the stage for a full forty minutes. I read several works, including the then new “In the valley of the kingdom (a poetic fantasy)” (premiered in Oslo just before I travelled to Nepal), “Whispers” (a cooperative work written together with Diane Oatley, and premiered at Gurukul Theatre in Kathmandu, Nepal), as well as a few other selected works of mine. This has to have been one of the most attentive and engaged audiences I have ever read for (although audiences in New York City, Buenos Aires, Oslo and Gothenburg, Sweden have been especially amazing as well). Both Gurukul Theatre and Pilgrim’s Book House – Thamel are certainly sorely missed by many residents and travellers to Kathmandu.



In 2007, I published “Rapture: endings of space and time”, Cyberwit, 2007, which included several poems written for the performances in Nepal.

While in Nepal, I also took several photographs which resulted in an art photography show at a gallery in Oslo:

Some people …

PUBLISHED IN 2005 (“Collected poems and stories”, Cyberwit, 2005).



Some people long for Spring,
and dream of assuaging the
bitter sores of Winter’s
darkness and solitude with
woodland walks and premature
sojourns to outdoor cafes.
And some people visualize
this year’s perfect garden,
an unusually colorful
palette of vibrant flora
exploding with hopefulness
and lust for living.
Or rather plan exotic
Summer vacations, June
weddings and cozy, social
outings with friends and
loved ones on traditional
holidays in April and May.
But others, like me, spend
year-long winters cuddled up in
blankets next to the fireplace,
reading about “some people”
in novels and romance magazines —
with utmost preoccupation.

Collected poems and stories



some people might say … 

some people might say that we are at war … against an unjust regime, which uses militarized police forces to actively repress minority populations (the 99%), and that police casualties are no more significant than black and gay casualties, i.e. tit for tat.

some people might say that a black uprising is 300+ years overdue, and that police casualties are a part of every historic revolution.

some people recognize that the 99% includes poor whites, latinos, native americans, muslims, asians etc., and that an eventual non-velvet revolution uprising against white supremacy is inevitable. whites comprise the ethnic group that kills most policemen right now, and that number will increase proportionately with the size and indiscretions of the police state.

some people eagerly await the chance to finally silence the kkk and the neo-nazis, as well as the pseudo-liberals who have raped black peoples with a smile for centuries.

some people say: “fucking bring it on!”

why? because we can’t breathe …


Yes, we are in the times that many of us have talked about for many years. None of this is a surprise since we have known that 2017 is to be the beginning of the turn-a-round. However, for that change of consciousness to have greatest effect there will have to be some sacrifices here on the planet. We can no longer sustain the population growth, the politics, the wasteful lifestyles, the disregard for animal and plant populations and species, pollution of air, water and soil etc. We see that animals are started to attack humans in sea and air and on land, nature is fighting back, and repressed and financially-/socially-enslaved peoples are beginning to say: “enough is enough!”


That is exactly what we need now: for people to put their feet down on the ground and say “STOP THIS SHIT!”

Many of us have long carried the burden of knowing too much, but now more and more people are waking up. The problem is that they do not think they can do anything about things, and hope that they will be off the planet by the time it really gets to be a slave planet here. Therefore, we need the young people to take the lead and fight back, to save themselves, humanity and the planet.

#Supportyoungactivists #Savetheplanet





See my photographic documentation of #OccupyOslo HERE!


JISEI: a new poetry book by Adam Donaldson Powell.






By Adam Donaldson Powell

First edition published by, India, ISBN 978-81-8253-403-2, 2013.

My new book “JISEI” is now available for orders at CYBERWIT and AMAZON.COM

Paperback: 245 pages
Publisher: (May 2, 2013)
Languages: English, French, Spanish, Norwegian, Japanese, Russian, Filipino
ISBN-10: 8182534038
ISBN-13: 978-8182534032



J. Richard “Rick” Davis (USA):

This book of poetry, is more than just a collection of poems, on life, death, and AIDS. It is a guidebook for anyone struggling with the meaning of it all – whether it’s AIDS, or cancer or any travail that is causing one to question the meaning and purpose of why we’re on this planet.


Albert Russo (FRANCE):

Qui est Adam Donaldson Powell? Ce poète rare qui parle de la beauté, de l’amour, de l’amitié, comme l’homme découvrant le monde à l’aube de l’humanité. Avec angélisme, direz-vous? Aucunement, il en parle avec la poésie du philosophe et du mystique. Il traite la maladie et la mort, non comme des ennemies, mais comme des connaissances, avec sérénité, presque avec sympathie, il va même jusqu’à causer avec elles comme l’on cause avec des passagers lors d’un voyage. Il se mets même à blaguer avec ces trublions, sachant qu’au bout du compte, il retrouvera la dernière.


Maria Cristina Azcona (ARGENTINA):

Adam es el esclavo líbero, el que rompió las cadenas y nos golpea con su martillo de oro las nuestras, incluso aquellas que volvemos a crear a cada momento, enfermos pero de la cabeza mientras él, enfermo del cuerpo está cada vez mejor de la lucidez mental, cada vez más cuerdo y descarnado. Su poesía es cada vez más aleteo y menos cuerpo, más alma y menos carne, más verdad y más arte hasta que llegará el momento ese sublime en que el hombre se hará poema, para siempre, en nuestra mente que ahora, tarde, podrá ver en el interior de su alma.


Lisbet Norderhaug (NORWAY):

I disse vidunderlige, dype og mørke diktene kan vi synke inn i oss selv og la oss treffe av lyset som gjennomstråler mørket. Adam har satt ord på den gjenkjennelige fortvilelsen over å måtte forlate livet, men han beskriver også gløden som skinner til oss fra den andre siden. Han har hevet, ja, transformert, historien om ett menneskes dødsprosess til en sang for oss alle.



AIDS has changed the world in more ways than we may possibly know. We will never fully comprehend the impact of losing so many people taken by this disease. Their contributions could have altered the face of humanity, the world of art and literature, the rearing of future leaders, the impact on communities, and the hearts of countless individuals. And this is all looking at the impact of AIDS in a broad perspective. It is a disease that, regardless of our own personal admissions, affects us all. However, behind the public fray of communal loss, social change and medical advances, lies the experience of the individual who must still awaken each day with the acknowledgment that they carry inside of them an evident ticking time bomb. No different from the rest of us who live with our own mortality, but distinct in that their clock has a name. That name is AIDS.

— Christina Landles-Cobb (USA)

My first public performance of my poetry in New York City was at a trendy art gallery in the SoHo district, back in 1986. The place was packed, wall-to-wall, and the audience was enthusiastic. I was reading from my soon-to-be-published first book of poems, entitled “Notes of a Madman” which was an illustrated collection of mystical poetry from Pagan and Sufi traditions. The gallery owner, an enigmatic young man, was particularly obsessed with the poems and spiritual messages in the slender volume of verse, and he read the book over and over again. Some months after the reading I again called the gallery to say “hello” and another young man answered the phone, saying in a somber voice: “Didn’t you know? He passed away shortly after your reading.” He had died of AIDS.

That beautiful young man hung onto my verse in a time of deep personal transformation. I have never forgotten the awe and sense of responsibility I felt after that telephone conversation. Since then, I have always written and painted with the intent of inspiring creativity and transformation in humanity. And now that I have — myself — lived with the AIDS virus for twenty years it feels appropriate to inspire once again through writing about one of the greatest transformations Mankind can ever know. It does not matter what we die of … every Soul and Life Expression is precious, and to be celebrated.

I die (and I am reborn) just a little bit each day of my life. Should any given moment be my last, then my epitaph will surely be the sum of all my thoughts, poems and tears of joy and sorrow … from day to day, over the course of eternity. Perhaps just one of these short daily poems will touch upon a few readers and lend a bit of realization of the magic that each of us creates in our personal and collective transformations.

– Adam Donaldson Powell



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.


une chaude journée d’été à marseille,
sans souci …
oh là là là là là là !
il a remarqué mon regard
il a l’air en colère
il vient vers moi
il demande une cigarette
nous allons à mon hôtel
il me quitte une heure plus tard, satisfait
le lendemain, je le remarque dans la rue à nouveau
et il a toujours l’air en colère

pour certains,
une vie avec le sida est une vie gâchée
ils n’ont rien à apprendre,
et rien à contester …
et ils ont surtout engendré la haine
envers le monde et envers eux-mêmes

… ouah, quel beau mec !
oh là là là là là là !


Pienso en tí …
y muero
en mis sueños.

Pienso en tí …
y ahora
lo único que queda
es la música,
unas palabras perdidas
y … quizás
una que otra lágrima
errante …

Pienso en tí …
la lluvia oculta
la arrogante apatía,
el retórico insoportable.
La apología
sin rostro
de los que piden perdón.

Despierto y descubro
que baten
ventanas con grietas
y sueños quebrados …

De súbito …
no puedo llorar más;
la lluvia ha parado.
Bajo el cielo desnudo
la vieja pintura se descolora.

Y yo pienso aún en tí …
hasta olvidar
el silencio que ya existía

antes de la muerte de mi amor.


Ingen solnedgang for meg, takk.
Jeg vil reise til sjøs i vakre flammer …
midt på formiddagen.


ANETTE TRETTEBERGSTUEN (Norwegian Labour Party Parliament Member) ON “JISEI”: “Break the sound barrier with art”, by Anette Trettebergstuen (Norway)


Azsacra Zarathustra comments on Adam Donaldson Powell’s poetry book entitled “JISEI”




Adam Donaldson Powell