Verse Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

What is my verse?
Often so angry
Of being cheated of life
Soiling the beauty that is all around us
The lovely line in
An old woman's face
Those who only see dancing girls
Do not see beauty
Only lusting after effervescent
That is no more than a bubble
In a glass of cheap champagne.
My verse get mad when seeing poverty
Yet the most beautiful sight I ever saw
Was outside a shack
An empty paint can full of flowers
Picked a dawn
In the mythical forest
Injustice is the chainsaw that cuts down
Christmas trees that are made into vulgarity
Of artificial snow, blond angels
And toy bells that lacks the tone of truth
I find my verse in the simple life
In the unspoken and unknown
Where everything is real, clean and blameless.