Aldri i hele min tilværelse hadde jeg sett for meg at omstendighetene skulle tvinge meg til å gå til slike tiltak.

Blakk, skadet, og arbeidsledig kom denne farende fanten hjem til Norge etter ti år utenlands like før jul 2013. 

Det var da nøden tvang meg til =Oslo for å kunne holde hodet over vannet.

Med historier å dele. Og behov for en inntekt.

Nå har jeg mistet denne helt da Korona viruset tvang oss til å stenge lokalene.

Null inntekt. Null livsgrunnlag. =Oslo var min redningsbøye og en plattform. 

Nå sitter mange av oss uten. Inkludert denne rennesteinspoeten. 

Med kroniske ryggplager, urolig mage, og gamle skader, så har også arbeidsførheten sterkt begrenset seg. 

NAV og HELFO lar vente på seg å gi meg en skikkelig utredning eller ordning. Fallende mellom alle stoler og institusjoner. 

https://www.aftenposten.no/meninger/debatt/i/6nAb50/utfordring-fra-rennesteinen-morten-alme

I disse harde tider, så er min appell et rop om nødhjelp. Et drastisk tiltak jeg aldri hadde trodd skulle bli nødvendig i verdens rikeste land. At mesener skulle tilhøre fortiden, da fattige kunstnere var avhengig av gavmilde sjeler der staten ikke rakk til. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NvVDBQ-UU38&list=WL&index=57

https://www.aftenposten.no/meninger/debatt/i/6nAb50/utfordring-fra-rennesteinen-morten-alme

Homeward Bound

Sometimes I feel like Dusty Roades

The American Dream

Norwegian style

One leg in each camp

Connected

Disconnected

To and from everyone

Having wined and dined with kings and Queens

Future, present and the past

I rub shoulders with rock stars

And share grub with bums and hobos

Right there on the street

Nothing is quite as it seems

From just a glimpse

Lurking a smirk under the six-pence shadow

I don’t get star struck

Cause I really don’t care

About yer status as a high and mighty

With yer swelled heads in the sky

I take a harpoon and blow it up

Like captain Ahab on the big white whale

I have traveled 1st class

I have slept in sleeping cells and drunk tanks

In countries far away, and right in my hometown

Just to write a fucking line

Of poetic justice

Against the powers that be

Who practice their daily misdeeds of injustice

Against the poorest of the poor

All the ones who don’t fall in line

Being different in any kind of way

The powerless and disenfranchised

Getting blamed for their own demise

By a cold shoulder who knows no compassion

The ones who stand alone

Follow their own nature

Across every border and barricades

Party lines, borders and nations

Defy the standards set

By a squeamishmess of the mob

Who demands that no one dare upset their sense of reality

Of religions, status symbols

Of gender norms and majority political correctness.

I have no master, nor do I bow down to dictators or gurus

I say Namaste

To the grunt who are like myself

Than to show an ounce of respect for status symbols until it’s earned

I follow no norms

I do however love to play

The funny game

Of masquerade and 6 degrees of Separation

Calming down

In my own mind

Letting Sister Mary Jane

Do all the work

As all the worries and stress are things of the past

I have fought with cops

Fought with the law

Fought powers that be

School yard bullies

Friends and foe

Abroad and at home

Against an enemy unknown

I have fought with myself

An eternal struggle

That is still going on

As I dream of the day

When the war is over

Having a sacred toke

Of the holy smoke

Underneath GAIAs ganja tree

At peace with myself

Gazing at the sky

Longing for a forever home

And the world around me

Wanting them to realize

That we are all the same

And we are home

Morten Hasjladden

=Oslo Selger 1223