Live Poetry | Vintervikens Trädgård
I performed with Stockholm Poet Society at Wintervikensträdgårds Café on a late summer evening. This time I wasn’t just reading poetry – I had a live band behind me, improvising with every line, pause, and breath. Their music wrapped around my words, sometimes soft, sometimes raw, always alive.
I left the stage knowing one thing for sure: music with my poetry is absolutely my thing. It lifts the words, cracks them open, and adds a rhythm I want to keep exploring. This is something I will continue doing – no doubt.
For this performance, I decided to test something new: shorter pieces. I read three poems – Trump, Queen, and a brand new one called Gamer. Each one carried its own beat, and with the music, they transformed into something bigger than I had imagined.
Usually, I bring my art with me when I perform – the ink drawings connected to my poems. They say so much about what I write and add another layer for the audience. This time, however, I didn’t. And I must admit: big mistake. My drawings and my texts belong together – they sharpen each other, and next time they’ll both be there. No doubt.
Still, the atmosphere was unforgettable – late summer air, an open garden café, music weaving through poetry, and people leaning in close to listen.
I’m grateful for the musicians, for the Poet Society, and for the audience that shared the night with me. This was just the beginning – more experiments, more collaborations, more words set to sound.
Music + poetry = my way forward.
The Poems
Trump
They wrap the world in plastic skin,
Sell us futures paper-thin.
Eyes are wired, hearts grow numb,
Forests fall to profit’s drum.
They carve the air with phantom lines,
Then crown the cruel and call it fine.
The floods rush in—they turn away,
Raise mirrored walls to keep decay.
A thousand veils and silent lies—
The end crawls in beneath our eyes.
But ash remembers how to burn,
And buried seeds will twist and turn.
The silence cracks, the ink runs dry—
We speak, we rise, we won’t comply.
Queen
Tears of blood upon her skin,
Each drop a war she holds within.
Crown of ash, unbowed, unbent.
She is the storm, the punishment.
They came to break, she rose instead.
A queen of silence, forged in red.
Gamer
Fingers tap, the daylight slips,
lost in screens and pixel trips.
Endless feeds and flashing lights,
pulling us through sleepless nights.
With every click, the real grows thin,
we chase a world we’re trapped within.
Bound by the glow, we drift away—
tomorrow fades into today.
