8 Reasons that explain,Why I write

(And why you should, if you do not..)
1.Writing allows me to escape from the hindrances that exist in real life,
Racism, idiocy, insults, shallow people, everyday irritating things that makes life
So much worse, than it could have been.
2.It allows ME to choose what happens to person.
3. It allows me to let out my emotions, without hurting anyone that i care about,
4. It allows me to do what I want with “my world” instead of being pulled around
by events around me with the scary feeling
that “fate” actually do exist.
I have a theory on why it seems like fate exists too but i’ll get back to that later..
5.It also allows me to tap into a world without boundries, a world where I make the
rules, a world where everything my fantasy produces can be played into life, without
anyone being hurt, emotionally or physically.
6. It allows me to do something else than waste my time in front of the tv or playing
computer games when I’m bored and the weather is horrible.
7. It allows me to improve my reading, spelling, and regular grammary.
8. And last but not least.. I simply LOVE it!

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Poetry: Do what you want.

Dedicated to all Bloggers:

The road you walk, May not be easy.
And your stomach may be queasy.
Your quest have to be kept in mind,
And follow neither before or behind.

The dead do live even after death.
After their so called “last-breath”.
But life when there, is not the same.
They know no love, or light, or shame.

The dead do live but in what form?
The sight will cause your brain to storm.
But now I live, and so i think.
The politicians now, of greed they stink.

So keep in mind, your goal still clear.
Or else, you might get lost I fear.
Walk down your road, for your own sake.
Follow others and your world will shake.

Express your feelings, right then and there.
If not, the pain through your brain will sear.
So write it down and spread the word.
And let if fly just like a bird..

Poem – The ramblings of an old man.

The old man lay upon the floor,
The young man stood at the door.
My son, The old man said,
The young man looked at him in dread.

I’m dying my friend, but I’ll be born again,
And I even though I might be insane,
A few lines I will speak nonetheless,
About the whole of this mess.

For those who may be bound,
I leave this wicked ground.
For those who fear in dread,
the terrors of the dead,
Its all a simple lie,
That it is bad to die.

For those who are left behind,
See the world as kind,
For those who left you will,
Live beyond here still.

Their thoughts will still be born, And useful things be bred.
Even though, they’re not in flesh, Ideas can still be spread.

For those who live here still,
Stay true in heart and will,
And face the hardest life,
With honesty or knife.

For the afterlife is the same.
And the violence there will still maim.
Whether you die in peace or in pain.
Whether you die sane or insane.

Interesting sites..

Ronald Mcdonald and Hummer has made a business deal, so that “Happy Meal” (more like “Happy Poison”) includes a mini-version of a Hummer as a toy.
Make your own funny McD signs and file a complaint at:
RonaldMcHummer
…………………………………
Blogexplosion, has been amazingly improved since last time I used it(which ended in a series of events that made me leave it).
Now you have all these new (and cool) features, like renting away advertising on your blog against credits, having a blog battle and much more..
…………………………………

Giant Blogs displaced?

Guess what ? Todays post is about Giant Blogs that (has been displaced) (or a huge conspiracy that sets out to control who people vote for) ?/(what do you think?)
Well I was going to surf my “almost-daily” blogsoldiers.com session today, when suddenly, a custom designed Giant blog appeared the Colored lines.
……………………………………
Translations for the more/less technical knowleged of you:
(Giant blogs = Custom designed, member of a blog corporation, amazingly many visitors and commented like hell)
(In between the colored lines = In the blogsoldiers surf frame)
…………………………………….
And my first thought was “What the heck is a custom designed, member of a blog corporation, covered with a huge and expencive advertisement skyscraper section doing in Blogsoldiers?
I thought this was where blog started receiving visitors, and hell these guys where probably making their living from it. I did not for one second even consider the option that bloggers receiving 585+ comments on a single post in a single day would even bother surfing 1 page at blogsoldiers, much less spending money on credits here..
585++ comments, imagine all the people visiting that blog daily!
But that’s not all..
After this, at least 4 more blogs of exactly the same network appeared on my screen, so what my question is, WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE ?
Are they being paid by the republicans or democrats to convert more people to their cause ?
(Or am I just being incredibly paranoid?)
Are they trying to control the world through readers?
Are they trying to steal the atteantion from the “little blogs” owned by ancious bloggers?
Or are they simply completely(and amazingly) displaced ?

Dusk to Dawn

This state of day looked almost drawn.
When dusk turned slowly into dawn.
With clouds of pink and white and gray.
The sky the blue of a summer day.

The sun that slowly rose, seemed too shout ‘here’s dawn’.
And when it neared the lingering clouds the colors seemed to storm.
The waves of green, topped with white.
Witnessed the breathtaking sight.

As dusk turned into dawn..

The Devil’s try.

The sky did fall unto the ground,
as the master of night released his hound,
The prey he sought, was not of men,
but of the ideas that guided them.

Creatures of such ideas fell,
into the killing heat of hell.
Why us ? They thought.
We could have fought,
We could have won, We could have run,
The thought had visited more than one.

Time did pass, as birds did fly.
Walking the eagle had to try,
The sky was black, night and day
Which it was, none could say.

The earth was hell, The humans fell,
The creatures that sought the same as well,
An end to pain, was all they sought.
Ideas, began to be forgot.

As soon it’d come, as soon it went.
The hell on earth, the devil had sent.
The trouble was, the devil thought.
With life destroyed, who would he have fought?

© Ragnar, The owner of this Blog.

The Man of The Mountains (unedited version)

Tiny drops of sweat beaded on a huge man’s forehead. He stood in the middle of a humungous mountainside.
The man was young, almost in his middle years, he had black hair, cut short, which he never could quite restrain from looking rough, and green eyes.
His body was muscular, his arms looked like very thick ropes, and his shoulders were broad.
His chest was large, covered up in muscles, and his legs looked like they should belong to a bear.
He wore plain woollen trousers, held up by a worn leather belt holding a hefty axe, a white linen shirt, and new, brown tanned leather boots, which still hurt to walk in.
His eyes moved quickly from spot to spot on the lower part of the mountainside, he couldn’t see anyone, but was convinced that someone was there, following him.
He thought he saw something moving down the mountainside, near the slope, so he quickly started moving again.
“They’re going to catch me, they are, I know it!” He thought, “They won’t, you fool, you are halfway, and they’ve only just started!”

He quickened his pace a little, and moved towards the lowest spire of the enormous mountain, or at least so it seemed.
The mountain was huge, though not very steep, and not really tall, but there were at least 6 jagged spires, and it was all blueish grey stone, with edges and holes everywhere.
There was not really a path up there but, the man had found a way up when he was younger.
In his mind he could see the ones chasing him, catching up with him and beheading him on the spot.
“I haven’t done anything at all.” He thought..
“So why are they chasing you then?”
He had just stood there, on the mountain slope, watching the events.
The little town he had lived in was now partly collapsed, crushed by large rocks.
And they blamed him, claiming the mountain seemed his best friend.
“Like the mountain had its own will and intended those rocks to smash those houses. They are all mad!” He thought.
“It was an avalanche, I had nothing to do with it!” “Didn’t you?” “Then why are you arguing with yourself?” “I’m not…” He realized that he was in fact having an argument with himself, and thought he was going mad.
He had just been sitting a little up the slope of the mountain, when they started yelling for him.
“Fedrin Odilhes!” They had called after him. “Yes, Fedrin is my name”. Fedrin thought, as he continued against the spire, or rather, the row of spires. “Didn’t even remember your own name? Now that doesn’t seem very innocent does it?”
Some inner voice inside Fedrin seemed to say. “Shut up! Just shut up.”
He told it, and it disappeared.

The people that lived in the village called the mountain Odilhesfernat, which meant “Spires many”.
He had been named Fedrin Odilhes (Born by Spires) because the people in the town had found him near the row of spires.
When he finally was at the lowest spire, he went up to the carving in the stone, which looked like a doorframe.
He touched what would have been the door with his hands, and thought of the door moving upwards. And the door of stone slowly started to creep upwards.
Revealing what seemed to be a tunnel.
When the door had disappeared completely into the roof of the tunnel, he went inside and thought of the door of stone closing the opening again.

Before it closed entirely a grey mountain wolf darted through the opening.
The opening closed, and it should have been as dark as night in the tunnel, but sunlight shone through small holes in the roof, Fedrin took the hefty wooden axe from his belt and planted both feet steadily on the ground a few paces from the wolf. He wielded the axe in both hands with a fierce look in his green eyes.
The wolf darted forward, sharp teeth bared, when the axe rushed down and took of its head.
Blood splattered all over Fedrin, the floor, walls and the roof, and then as suddenly as the flow of blood from the neck had started, it stopped.
Fedrin smiled, “Being a lumberman had finally proved useful.”
He thought, as he took up the bloody wolf head and smashed it into the tunnel’s right wall.
He could not help feeling shaken as he cleaned his axe on the wolf’s fur and walked downwards in the tunnel.
He had made his first kill, and if he knew how many more he would have to murder, before this nightmare-like adventure was over, he would kill himself on the spot.

Walking down the plain tunnel, he realized that every bit of this tunnel was carved with precision that seemed impossible.
The stone was not ruffled, like most human work was, there was not even marks from chisels or pickaxes, the stone was completely smooth, almost as if the mountain had formed the tunnel by itself.
Even the holes in the roof, letting dimmed, greyish, sunlight in, was exactly 5 feet apart, and cut in perfect squares.
Being closed up in a tunnel filled with greyish light, it seemed like the walls was closing in on Fedrin, and his pace rapidly increased from a walk to a run, just to get out of the tunnel.
Where you couldn’t tell one meter of stone from another, other than the difference in height. Fedrin’s steps echoed throughout the tunnel, in a way that made it seem like someone was following him.
He was on the edge of giving up, when the tunnel straightened, and a doorframe, just like the one earlier, appeared in front of him.

Desperate to get out, he thought of the door exploding, but unable to really concentrate because of his ragged breathing, he sat down to the stone floor, trying to settle his breathing and the feeling that the walls was closing in on him.
“Ok now, Breath slowly.” He told himself, and his ragged breathing started to turn into a slow and calm one.
He thought once again of the door exploding, and this time the door obeyed his thought.
The door slowly cracked, from the middle and outwards, as if resisting, but then, suddenly it burst out of the frame in pieces, leaving a rectangular hole in the mountainside.
He heard some weird noises outside but darted out nonetheless.
When he came out of the tunnel, he blinked a few times to adapt his eyes, and realized he was in a hidden valley, and, that two very small, muscular, human-like, bearded, grey eyed creatures with grey skin, was standing on either side of him, wielding long handled spears.
He saw a blurred movement and felt two spear-points against his neck, he studied their eyes, looking for some sort of hint, but all he could see, was determination.
All hope was lost, or was it?

I See Dumb Bloggers!

When I first started blogging all the other bloggers were, at least to some extent, intellectual.
As the days passed however, more and more dumb bloggers popped up, copied someone else’s posts, splashed ads all over the blog, and thought that someone would bother to stay long enough to click one ad.
Thus, only the blogs owned by people that was to some extent intellectual, got readers.
After a while though, people started paying attention to the dumb bloggers’ babbling and ramblings, so now, every now and then, I see a blog with lots and lots of comments, but when i start reading through the posts, I don’t understand why anyone would bother even reading it,
Much less commenting it (unless the comment’s sole purpose would be to make fun of the blog and its owner).
These blogs that only posts things other people have written, or with things the owners have edited a word or two in and calls the post their own, and to top that, the whole blog is covered up in ugly ads that scream: “I am an ad!”
So, here is my question, why are people reading these pityful blogs?
Are they dumb too?
Do they read them instead of newspapers?
Or have they simply not seen the posts anywhere else before?

Who’s right, and who’s wrong ?

Well, now with the new midwest crisis, the fighting between Hizbollah and Israel, I can’t help wondering if any of them has the better reason..
Allthough I would never support such extreme actions, what if one of them actually can defend their attacking the other part in a discussion and win, now matter how well-spoken the opponents are.
So, lacking being a member of UN’s security counsel, I’m asking you(yes you!).
Who do you support in this war?

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