If you say that

Things are going well for you.

It works well.

You thrive.

You have it good.


Then they make sure that

It did not go well for you.

It does not work well.

You do not get on well.

You do not have it good.


Then they make sure that

You start to cry.


It is just so.




To my Mother
The great love in my life
The one who shaped my personality
The one who protected me
And who was my first compass
To the world.

To my Father
That is unable to show
His love by kissing and hugging
Or even talking
But saved my personal stuff and
All photos of my youth and even my school
Backpack and my pens in my little
Closet in his house for more than
Twenty years.

To my Sisters
My great supporters
Who call me often and
I feel that they miss me when
Their voice are shaking

To my Brother
Who is confused
Right now because of
Family problem and share
His story with me by not saying
Anything but just calling often.

To my Daughter
My beautiful daughter
Who takes me with her
To another world
A beautiful world full of
Happiness, full of fun and laugh.

To my unborn Baby
To my 100 grams of pretty human being
Who made me crying of happiness
When I watched its movement on the screen
Who reminded me of strong feeling
Of fatherhood again.

To my Wife
My biggest love
The most beautiful and caring
Woman in the world
Who loves me for who I am and
Does not try to change me
Who is my best friend.

To my Friends
Those who are around me
Even though some of them are living
A thousand miles from me
Those who are with me in my struggle
Who gave me the courage to carry on
And not give up.

The words are not enough
To describe my feelings
And my appreciation for you

Look in my eyes
And read it by yourselves
That I’m blessed and I’m
Grateful to you.

By Samuel E. Rajeus, Stockholm, Sweden, 09-23-2003



Dedicated to the Nobel Laureate in literature Wislawa Szymborska

Operation: Survival (2)

It was her courage
Her desire to help
Her refusal to become victim
Her look forward and not backward
Her desire to live
(despite a difficult childhood and even traumas)
Her talent to write
The ability to laugh
The ability to love
The ability to grieve
What was the explanation for her successful life.



Genital mutilation of children / an honorable rite?

Call it a thousand years of tradition

Call it a historically accepted practice

Call it a broad social ritual

Call it a religious esteemed Convention

Call it a general popular ceremony

Call it what the hell you want!

It is nothing but a criminal act.

Wislawa Szymborska

Wislawa Szymborska, July 2, 1923- February 1, 2012

1996 when she received the Nobel Prize in Literature, she got the question, which reads:
Why have you produced (written) so few poems?

Her answer was:
I have a big trash can under my desk.



Without dreams, you die!

… She said: ”You seem to be quite happy with life!”
I countered with: If you come a little closer, you find that I am far from happy with life …

She added: ”What are your future plans?”
I countered with: Future plans are dead long time ago …


A protester killed by Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard in post-election turmoil in Tehran, Iran, June 2009









An injured protester in post-election demonstrations in Tehran, Iran, June 2009



Those rich honor keepers
Are believers among other
White bearded and big stomach
Men who give order to their
Daughters to listen to the God´s word
And hide their faces behind a veil
But they in the same time have four
Wives and “a good relationship with
The woman in the neighborhood too”

Those large honor keepers
Are rich God´s men among others
Who sit in their stores from
Morning to evening and mix
Hundreds tommans rice with five
Hundreds tommas rice and sell it
To people for five hundred tommans

Those religious honor keepers
Believe that they can commit
Any criminality if they just can cry
Some tears at a religious ceremony
While they wear black suit and give
Away some money to house of God

Those real honor keepers
Are religious women who
Go to religious ceremony regularly
And give God feasts every month
To show their jewelry, dresses and
Other means to other false women.

Those powerful honor keepers
Send other ordinary people´s children
To war and those youngsters get murdered
While they in the cities keep their disgusting

Those bloodthirsty honor keepers
Put in prison young men and women of
Fine people and execute them in order to
Keep their own honor that never existed.
Those monstrous honor keepers are
Those most dishonored human beings
In the history


Fotografen Pieter ten Hoopens skildring av sitt möte med kvinnorna i Damaskus belönades nyligen med priset Årets bildreportage utland i tävlingen Årets Bild.


”Hon kommer från Irak. Hennes man dog i kriget men hon har inga papper på det och får inte ersättning från FN:s flyktingsfond. Sängen hon sitter på finns i Damaskus, dit hon flydde undan våldet. I början städade hon på hotell. Någon berättade att hon skulle tjäna mer pengar om hon sålde sin kropp. Så hon är prostituerad. Nätterna igenom dansar hon på en nattklubb i stadsdelen Garamana för att locka någon man att köpa sex. När morgonen kommer får hon sova.” SYDSVENSKAN/ lördag 13 mars 2010

They gathered there, men and monsters
Thousands of thousends
To watch two women´s execution.

They were there, those dead and those alive
Thousands of thousends
To watch two girl´s execution
Two prostituted girl´s execution.

The guards, the men of God, the mullahs
Men with beards, the murderers
All were there to perform two girls execution.

My town cried that day
Sky´s tears fell on my cheeks
The sky was sad, too.

The girls were taken to the square
By armed guards.

Men mumbled to each other
And I stared at the gallows
Men and monster
Cried and laughed
Those dead and those alive
All were there
To perform two girl´s execution
To watch two girl´s execution.

Nineteen and twenty-one years old
With beautiful faces covered by the fear of death.

Their crime:
Stealing clothes
Stealing food
And prostitution.

The murderers bind their chadors
Around their bodies
And hang them one by one.

Their bodies, trembled all
Over on the gallows
Their eyes full of fear in the
Presence of the death
And their hope and attempt
In vain.

The guards, into lines, cold formed,
Like chess soldiers
Under the greatness of the colored flag´s dance

And the vampire´s joyfulness screams
And the bloodcrying men´s eyes
Under the sky´s tears.

It´s impossible to escape death.

Hungry people and naked bodies
In poverty´s and misery´s territory
Hang on the gallows.

Yes, it is impossible to escape death.



Those dead were pleased because
However ones again God´s will
Was completed.

Those alive cried like rain.

And my town cried
For the death of those two girls
Forty days.

From ”Shadows, collections of poems” / ISBN 978-91-977393-1-3

A Foolish solution

Man kan motsätta sig dödsstraff därför att man betraktar livet som heligt oavsett vad en människa har begått för hemska handlingar. Man behöver inte ha något sådant religiöst färgat synsätt för att vara dödsstraffsmotståndare…För när en stat medvetet och kontrollerat avlivar fångar finns inte bara frågan om fångens rätt till sitt liv. Minst lika central är frågan om staten ska få ta sig rätten att utsläcka hans liv. Vad gör avrättningen med statens om beordrar den? Vad gör den med bödeln, statens tjänare? Vad gör den med oss övriga medborgare, med vår syn på varandra och på gränserna för vad vi får göra mot andra?Det måste finnas gränser för vad stater tillåts göra mot enskilda människor. DN 23/7 2009/ Ledare

Freeze in the cold.
Are suffocated in the heat.
Are killed under the rain and snow.

Sleepless, have nightmares
The whole night,
Under viaducts and on
Dirty streets,
Outside the city.

Die of thirst.
Die of hunger.

In a foolish world—
Life is death in every second—

Death is liberation from the infected body.

Sentenced to death

A foolish solution
For robbery and murder
A foolish act

In a foolish world

Life is death in every second
Death is liberation from the infected body.
Death is liberation from the horrible memory of life.

A foolish solution
For a foolish act
In a foolish world.