Pete Jorgensen

Nothing to See, Nothing to Hear

Nothing to See, Nothing to Hear is a collection of poetry and digital art (not AI generated) I created in 2020, and published under the name of Fjorgyn Mitra in 2021. Fjorgyn is a Norse goddess whose name means earth, with similar etymological origins as Jorgen (derived from George). Mitra refers to a Sanskrit word with numerous meanings in Hinduism. One of the more common, or general, interpretations of Mitra is 'friend'.

The collection was created in 2020 as a way of entering meditative trance in order to sublimate strong suicidal feelings; a means for becoming 'friends' with the dark, 'earthy' aspects of my emotions and existential perspectives on material life. I spent many hours on death meditation, imagining myself buried in the soil, suffocating, and breathing my last. It was how I felt. Some videos were created to accompany the poems, and are embedded below. I no longer monitor or curate these channels, and do not recall creating the website mentioned in the comments, www.nothingtodiefor.uk.

A simple painting of a grey mountain with a white top and a white glow above
Nothing to See, Nothing to Hear
A simple painting of a grey mountain with a white top and a white glow above
Sacred Mountain
A minimalist geometric composition with a white circle representing the moon hovering over a blue ocean
Butterfly Moon

The Bees Do Not Dance

The bees do not dance
The birds do not fly
The rain does not fall
The sun does not shine
Stillness and silence
Deep within
The storm’s eye

A circle with eight evenly spaced arms, like a wheel, made from squiggles of purple, white and blue, on a black background
Cosmic Octastar

Sacred Dragon Hijacked

Waves crash down
Break the crystal shore
Driven by the cosmic trail
Thrashing in the dark
The beast that wears the crown
In its putrid frigid mask
A heart of blackened lead
Hammers down on those who ask
So none will climb the mountain
And none will see the spires
The sacred dragon hijacked
Drains away their lives

A mountain made from brown dots with a lung-like bronchial tree expanding down from the top in white dots, on a background of red bleeding into yellow
Fire Lungs
A black and grey composition of squares, circles and skewed angular spaces with one small white dot toward the top
Geometric Chasm

Clapping Like Waxwork

Clapping like waxwork, slowly melting in the sun
Clapping to prolong their stagnant living death Clapping as it was prescribed

Hedgehog crawls slowly, whistling and wheezing
Stops dead in the midst of applause
Confused and blind
Maggots squirm from its eyes

Upended and wrapped in a towel
A young girl in blue gingham
Shy, curious
Delights at her first sighting

A faint squeal, puss drips from hedgehog’s nose
Wiped away by elderly fingers
To rest then, in the leaves
Near the compost heap

A cat, to toy with the dying
For pleasure alone
One final torment
The hollow blind eye of nature

A black and grey composition of fuzzy patches with a blurred circle toward the center
Black Sun

Darkness Stares Back

Eyes seek beyond windows
Searching for the light
Darkness stares back
Yawning eternally

an eye ball peaking out of a broken gap in a large burgundy sphere, red background
Fear

Time is Pointless

In a vast ocean of eternal nothing
Time is pointless
Give it your full attention

Dabbed paintwork of yellow forming a golden circle over a white cross over an orange infinity sign on a red background
Salvation

The Blind Flailing of Swords

Fearful and lost
They huddle in crowds
Loose threads of connection
Stitch outsiders’ shrouds

Angry and weary
They gather in hordes
Crouched under absurd banners
The blind flailing of swords

SalvationMarch on against the other
Sand castles defend
In violence forever
Blood blinds the beyond

Vertical columns of fibrous yellow and red, glistening like it's a little wet
Sinew and Nerves
A curved diagonal line separates a black and yellow area. A white lens shape sits on the line. A green semi-circle emits six lines of green toward the white lens, they are bent in direction and become red before moving on to a red receptacle in the bottom right corner
Communication

Nameless

I am immortal for I am death come flesh
And when the flesh withers and rots
Or burns to soot
I shall still be death

When the sun swallows the earth
With its last weak cosmic orgasm
When it burns to soot
I shall still be death

When the dwindling stars fade to their last
And all is cold, lightless, and still
When the song of silent ecstasy is all that remains
I shall still be death

When all is as it was before it began
You will know that what comes at the end
Is that which came before the first
And I shall still be death

And you would laugh, if you could last
As finally you would understand, I have no name
And that name, Death, that you hung upon me
You should hang upon yourself

A watercolour-style painting of a man in a black suit with a large plate of fruit, reaching out with a fork to take an apple that a man is standing on with a noose around his neck tied to a tree
Aspiration
A mess of red, black, and flesh colour, with rough silver fork and knife
Eat

The Meat Robot

The meat robot cries for food
The meat robot eats its goo
The meat robot pukes on you

The meat robot grows and grows
The meat robot learns to know
Meat robots serve their masters

The meat robot feels alone
The meat robot wants a clone
The meat robot finds another

The meat robot wants a home
A cave made from wood and stone
The meat robot builds a nest

The meat robots propagate
Making more meat robot slaves
The meat robots’ masters are pleased

Too many meat robots now
Their numbers must be brought down
Knees bent, heads bowed to the ground

The meat robots in a trance
Led on their macabre dance
Turned one against the other

The Moon Like Spice

The moon, like spice, casting shadows
Silhouettes of trees like a crow’s wing or cockerel

A distant noise, like a furnace
Like ecstatic ends
And you want to comply?
With what?
Form or ideas?

The green vine creeps
Reaching into the dark
Shining in the light the moon stole from the sun
And each grasp for now, borrows will from a future unknown

Be like a child they say
And to the child?
Be like me, a dead child
In the distance, the sheep bleat their nature in darkness

And the moon, like spice, offers no advice
Just glimpses of stolen light

Watercolour and ink drawing of a lighthouse in a sea of purple, blue, and black, emitting two beams of light across a grey sky
Lighthouse
A fiery explosion on a black background
Progress

Tsunami of Filth

The collapse was slow
The decay came from above
The earth cracked deep
A drought of love

Those in the basement
Were crushed into dust
Those balanced above them
Still only looked up

Fake chiefs in penthouses
Slammed doors, locked out the screams
Surveilling their thiefdom
Bursting their seams

Their feast soon to end
They awake from their dreams
Gold robes cannot save them
From the poison and fear

A tsunami of filth
A flood from the void
Rising up to drown all
Both the fool and the seer

An abstract painting with forms of black, purple, grey, blue and orange. Toward bottom right is a small, faint hand print
Silent Hand

Scraps of Meat

Here we are
Brothers and sisters
Fighting over scraps of meat

Tortured flesh fighting
Over tortured flesh

Here we are
Brothers and sisters
Rattling our chains
With poisonous pride

Using our crutches as vulgar batons
To take the anger
From our spleens

Here we are
Late arrivals
Fastening buttons
To hold our pride

Here we are
Blazing fires
To finish the waste
Of wasted lives

A chalk drawing with a blue sky and brown earth landscape in long, wavy horizontal stokes. To the far right stands the small silhouette of a person, slightly bent over, to the far left, the silhouette of another person walking away with a small figure by its side
Cleaving

Skull, Wool, Bones and Skin

Unzip the tent, peer out
Thick mist obscures all views
Pack and wrap, lift the load
Map of hope, compass of truth

But this terrain is off the edge
Climb and descend, blinded in rain
Haul in tight, ropes round the waist
Stumble down holes between tussocks

Trek on, face burnt by wind
Desperate for a landmark
In a deep ditch, the corpse of a sheep Skull, wool, bones, and skin

Follow the grey stone wall past the forest
Tracks, a dog, big and fast
Down further, now waist deep in the water
And on still, keep your back to the hill

Water laps cold on the chest
Ground soft and uneven under foot
Cling to the barbed wire and stumps of wood
One more push to the old stone hut

An abstract drawing of coloured blobs
Perception

The Endless Feeding

Seeking high and low
Unsanitary, occult places
The quest to solve the riddle
Every end becomes a middle

Love, fight, drunk on the night
Embrace the chasm till the morning
Until the sun comes in
Melting the shadows of the dreaming

They’ve made machines of men?
That’s what they’ve always been
Eating, drinking, shitting, boasting, and breeding
Little coals for the fire, the endless feeding

Religious rules, political schools,
Economic tools, all shepherding fools
The wise nihilists know nothing
Helplessly faking knowledge of something

An arrangement of rows of spherical blobs made from splattered lines of purple and blue, with green yellow and red toward the center. Each is connected to another sphere by a sharp randow line like lightning
Transmission

Silent Voice

Nobody hears the silent voice
The silent voice does not speak
History, a boiling cauldron of arrogance
Ignorant of the wisdom of silence
Authored by those possessed of forceful desire
Sucking the life from the here and now
Into deep dark tunnels of filth
Where it is cast in sculptures of excrement

An abstract painting of brown and dark blobs with two wavy lines of small blobs in yellow and mustard green, and a further below in red
Biocide

Nothing to See, Nothing to Hear

I thought you were leading the way
Making a path
I followed

But you moved so quickly
Disappearing into the future
Your light faded like the waning moon

Soon I stood in darkness
Directionless
Nothing moved
Nothing breathed
There was nothing to see
And nothing to hear

And the blissful horror of emptiness
Swallowed me whole

An abstract painting of a sunrise in thick strokes of colour, green grass, blue sky
Demiurge

Peacock’s Tail

Hovering like a humming bird
Buzzing like a bee
You are my flower The nectar for my feed

Memories of who you were
Burn on the funeral pyre
Filtered desire, misconceptions
Now just movements of the dance

Chasing the peacock’s tail
In the prison of belief
It’s the nothingness of nothing
That you seek

An explosion of coloured dots emerging from a black circle, concentrically arranged in fiery bands of white, yellow, orange, pink and purple
Flames of the Void

Death Cults

Cults of comparison
Death cults
Seeking elevation
A mountain of bodies
The climber, addicted
No looking down
The festering pit
A kingdom of faeces

A view of the top of a black bird flying over a messy arrangement of multi-coloured circles and lines.
Carrion

Cauldron of Instincts

Banal shouts
Red faced, sweating
A cauldron of instincts
Metal clangs
Engines buzz
Clouds of concrete dust
The living gift is slowly murdered
The idiots grin
Demolishing their only house

An energetic impressionist painting with upright strokes of green grass, a small bee, and a red-crested bird. A giant head sits on the horizon with wavy purple hair, it has no face, just one large eye toward the top of centre
Self

The Game Continues

Without travelling I arrive
Inside a game
I am thirsty
The drinks here are only for the players
I am hungry
The food here is only for the players
I wish to leave
But the game must be completed

I am tired of the game
Tired of the hunger
Tired of the thirst
I stand still
The game continues
I sit down
The game continues
I sleep
The game continues
I dream
The game continues
I scream

A yellow disc surrounded by concentric shades of blue and a watery donut of pink
Emanation

Shadow Dances

Finger points into space
Shadow dances in the cave
I hold the sun with my spoon
Still
This has no name

Black cell wall forms in various sizes, overlain an array of colourful patches blended in to each other including green, purple, yellow, red, and blue
Apoptosis

The Odour of Blood

Ears twitch
Leg shakes
The last moment
Wide eyes
Nostrils flare
The odour of blood
Those who went before

Coloured squares arranged like a nordic-style blanket tapestry
Weaver

Under the Arch

You read the book
You watch the play
Yet nothing
Is not seen

Listen to the sermon
Sing falsetto praise
Yet nothing
Is not heard

Mirror the ritual
Under the arch
Yet nothing
Is not connected

Doomed to dance alone

A pale blue background with lots of bubble-like circles in lighter hues and one large white semi circle
Delusion

Drunken Slumber

The stars shine for nobody
And for nothing
Crematoriums
Absurdly burning absurdity

God
The shadow of a foolish dream
Dreamt in drunken slumber

Awakening brings not bliss
A new horror begins

All without essence
Thirst never quenched
Hunger never satisfied

Welcome to hell
There is nothing here

A lime-green circle with a black dot center, surrounded by concentric circles of black and green fading in intensity toward the outside
Shining Eye

Cut the Glass

Good?
Nothing is good
You think you ate the fruit?
It was a mirage, a hologram

You self-endowed judge
Look in the mirror and laugh
A hollow cruel cackle
Cut the glass

Various shades of grey slashes and strokes on a white background
Death

Luciferian Moths

Flutter around candles
In dark caverns and closed halls
Luciferian moths

Pulled into spirals
Constellations of false light
To mortal flames

All will die
Knowing nothing
Of the true fire

Circling the Rock

Blind sheep startled
Footsteps
Squelching mud

Sheep turns in circles
Hooves knocking against boulders
Speak soothing tones

Calm for a moment
Sentiment connecting
Shattered by the panic of blindness

Move closer
Reach out a hand
The effect is opposite

Turn away, heavy heart, walk on
The exhausted devotee still circling the rock
In fear ‘til death

A minimalist zen drawing of a landscape outline in red, single mountain, and a red disc in the top right corner
Blood Moon

Dance Alone

To be free, dance alone
A single fragrant rose unfolds in the desert
A kiss from the divine

Follow no path, leave no footprints
Memorise nothing, the past is a lie

Breathe the water
Eat the air
Shiver naked in flames
Fly through the earth

Let the feathers fall from your wings

Put down the knife

Put down the knife
Things are as small as they need to be

A white glowing sphere, top left, with purple outer glow, on a dark black-purple background

The Crow on the Tomb

The crow
On the tomb
Knows the tune

Pete Jorgensen is a singer songwriter, guitar player, bass player, sound engineer, philosopher, author, artist, and horticultural scientist who has lived in Liverpool, Lancaster, Lancashire, Cornwall, Camden, and Surrey, England, UK.