Life sentence (Zp I)

I sit on my bed
emptiness staring at me
thoughts possess me, controlling
all of me body

it hit me like nature hits people
when it feels like showing off,
but inside me,
like a gigantic hailstorm out of nowhere
ripping up all your defenses in seconds
and giving your umbrella
a time of its life
literally

dead
umbrella
death inside this
body

fate, deeper meaning, universal causality?
I need no prosecution
I plead guilty

what is my sentence
that's all I long to know
for what it's worth i'm contemned
to life

after that I have dream of letting go
enjoy for goodness in life
in tiniest things
and bring my death home
request is to spread it to sea on windy day
in the place I was happy
a long time gone

Ready

Four feet and inches
on tall wooden box
shoveled
ready
what about the ones
left behind

nothing unfinished he left
he willed even the last
glass of wine
something not said
or heard?

every last screw was counted
nail and mortar too
precision was done by perfection
under magnifying glass
a house it became
for what and for whom
ready

years upon years traveled by
walk around with glancing eyes
knock knock on the wall
bulldozed it shall
said the man
leveled and done
cleaned so neat
ready was done

what does it look like
how does it seem
by wings of bird from skies
eyes so high
from dirt by blacks of an ant
in morning at night
with binoculars


from far I suppose with telescope
to spot what's ready
it is easy a task
turn and look
the telescope the other way
around
ready

Happiness

All of the years
days in thousands

scarcity of words
and the left unsaid
multitude of the ones
that stand for nothing
in the end

how many are the deeds that
truly made significance

mindfullof memories stuffed and crammed
tiny little smallest ones
hovering shivering in obscurity
pains in sorrows of the loads
as if poured on you
for all the tons worth

thin with joy
yet giant leaps
dozens of acres sized moments
few a dreamful forgettable ones

the ones
are they happiness

Would you set the bed for me love

Would you set the bed
my love

for me to kiss
you there

for me to run
my hand like a rapid
playfully splashing slowly caressing
like water robbing on stone
smooth to fit my hand
hard yet soft
and tender
fitting

would you set the bed
my love
for me

to converge into you
as a way that makes stars to lose
their shine in comparison 
to flame as lava inside your vain
ardor like a burn
moments before fall
into one - me, you, us -
and the burst

would you set the bed
my love
for me

to come and blaze burning flames
on your skin, inside you, with the hunger in me
for you to splosh and weep as does the creek in spring
and scrape the last of strips from my back

would you set the bed
my love
for me

for the lava as a shapeless mold
chameleon of formulaic
one for two
shake off the worldly woes
for us as dream that was dreamt
perfection fulfilled the moment longer stretched

would you set the bed
my love
for me

Bubbles

Like a rainy day
oh, what a pathetic way
to begin my poem
except that it's a rainless way
I hop a long and, no
no sway to
make the dulliest of rhymes

my rainy day rains not on me
yet rainbow of mine
superceads having at least
compared to yours
a few colors more
today

spring s under my feet
lightly I move along
I am like soap bubbles
in slight breeze colored by sun
to sparkle like a prism

lighter and fragile
I am tempted to become
if I do burst
no worries nor harm
let's just blow some  of me more

Butterflies Our Lives

Butterflies and human minds
have you looked at them fly?
insane like drunk and driving
a plane
better yet, a helicopter

oh, look a butterfly, smiles the child,
the "innocent" mind
how many can correct it
swallowtail to be?

with varying colors and
shapes as we
are same
but marked  essentially
different lives
both outside and within
ourselves

butterflies are preyed
most of their lives
and proportioned time not
truly alive

we are but butterflies
in breeze of time

imagine a water drop
landing on us
during our
whimsy
flight

caught by life
on butterfly net or
bare hands
makes massive distinction
on affects, how we translate the life
in our heads

image is bright, colorful flight
in sunshiny day
human conduct is bound by rules
and laws to protect
us from ourselves

otherwise we live in shadows
of our thoughts

did you know that ninety percent of
lepidopterans are in fact moths? 

as per se we must fly
if we open our eyes from
self-deceit

metamorphosis appears only
from child to adult
anything else
is driven from denial

Finns And Gypsies

The year has warmed, first
slowly like a brick wall,
market place normally occupied
by teenagers spitting on ground
and half a dozen professional drunks
has been electric shocked (back) to life

rarity of event of
sudden sunny day lures
the Finns to linger
from their graves

I even hear them talking aloud
and suddenly shockingly realize I'm going along

Gypsies are posted on the parking lot
selling and buying everything anyone's got
while waiting there repair parts fetched
by the lowest of rank
to their youngsters' rusted automobile
for sale for 500 euros and carton of cigarette
to come with the car

they utilize the sun and see opportunity to sales

Ropes, Poisons, Guns...

Oh, I wish I was a
citizen of US of A
would have bought one
from local Walmart

and gone out under the stars
and felt the cold sting under my chin
last look at the Orion
and gone happily ever after

or I wish I'd had access to goblet
of the good old poisonous cocktail
what a wonderful way to end the days
with cigar and wine or even
cognac, unless,
it's too fine to be spoiled
with the poisonous lime

but no, not in here and now;
cannot even get a prescription on insomnia
alternatives scarce: rope is so barbarous way
and wrists, well, I might be
couple of pieces short of being a man

so "Here I stand. I can do no other"
and thinking again - I'm writing again
re-married and occasionally having a ball
of my life, writing these thoughts of sorts

Few Lines of Letters

8th grade
I had lost what I am
in realization
that I wasn't truly what
I actually was

did not know but the fact
that I was only shadows of what
the others made me

popular, local celebrity at
the age of t-h-i-r-t-e-e-n

lost in that swirl
broken the rules, hearts
and something fragile inside

pain increased as despise,
first sober thoughts were
disguised from revelation, to be turned
into self-hate, cutting
withdrawal, snake slithering to
its pit

I was squeezed out from fluids of live
turned inside, and the inside out
burning insecurity in
expectations out
-side

hibernation, the ice four age teen
like a dying species
alone, loneliness grows exponentially
I made acquaintance with the moon
soul mates surrounded by stars and occasional
shivering lights, magical waves
of polar lights

cold, lifeless, visited still by friends
I did push away them

breathing poison through my lungs to heart
and brains just enough,
and slowly too, to keep me alive
to see my death fuller and fuller, constantly
thinking of bursting

I found a way out of my self-made solitude and
yes, I met my redemption
in letters and words of books as I
hid myself in them

I found a way to dilute the poison out
in words of a poet greatest
on the earth:

"Thank you for life, Mother
Few lines I made letters today
That's all. I am happy."

For all the muses in the world
I took upon me
those simple
words

and do still
and forevermore
when levels of poison
run high to be cleansed again
"Few lines...That's all"

------------------------------------

Quote is from "Onni" a poem by Lauri Viita (translation is mine), a Finnish poet that died tragically in young age in car accident. The very same day the news of his death was in papers Finland's most acknowledged poetry magazine published his poem "Onni" = Happiness

Hurry On

In hurry, I hurry on, like a hurry
never before
as long as I make it round
four corners
of the street of life

hurry,  hurry on to where
from whence
as long as I carry on

who knows where this takes me
the road
as long as I hurry on
on with hurry

through the scattered noise
and motion
filling my head 
going insane

if I don't get along with the hurry
I just be better off dead
if I can't shake off
this life
I hurry on

Blinded To See

Crippled the crumble
fallen on knees

heavy weighted fall
the wounded crawl, in
dungeons of hope
heinous not to hold
together, but tumble

your prune
ripe, overdone and
at last rotten
forgotten
done
locked, sealed and
eyes opened

watchfully, so so slowly

to view the ruins
to build upon yesterday's
pieces, recollected constructs
of art of life

one way or the other
the other makes one
anew, use not to get used
by lack of simmering sight
in roulette of
night

the dark side of the moon
does in fact shape
the light

Love Fixes Antenna

Plate roof slippery when
covered on ice
perfect for
a snow glider slide
if not the fall

antenna has been harassed
by early winter's gales
live on, now, at once,
the Idols finale season number nine

wife's a wife, love's a wife
and life's a wife

break a leg and break a neck
in the name of life of wife
it's a slippery climb

Between Packed Ice

A prisoner
inside my head
heart is closed
squeezed between
packed ice

receptive?

with a dozen spears
pierced through me,
deathly,
spiky to be considered
as human

sun's shine lights
but
warms not
it teases
when wind is shut off
like flashlight pointed
straight towards your sight

start off with a wrong foot?

rather with wrong body
yet underestimated expression

in a wrong life
how's that?

anger has no limits
when it pivots inside
deep
compelled to silence

passer-by's careless smile
cuts more severe than
cutting your wrist
bitter bees covet
every cavity and
expand your mind's
universes beyond everything
with bitter sweet
poison

another day
or yet
give me another
life
or
death

Painted Sunrise

Bloody skies
I rip over me
out of Hades' sombre
minds traveler

without leaves
on my roots I stand
naked for passer-by
to point at

ugly as dead
and dead at least

I look under from my
branches
leaves of my life
as a rotten pile
picked up by winds
mixed up in deaths of others'

as a rotten pile

melancholic eyes
watered in their gaze
colored setting downs
deeds that are past and done
beautiful red with yellow hues
but wistful and insane of saudade
cut out from realities as if
dislocated from its joints 

my sunrises tiptoe
silently behind the curtains
in secret
above the clouds

life wills to be
for me everlasting winter
brightest of sunshine of spring
is only painting
creation of novice's poor
experimentation
without emotion at all

Cigarettes And Madhouse

In mad rooms
lives but humans
yet enormous through
magnifying glass
unconventionally ordinary,
ordinarily unfit
lifeless but quiet
inert when waking

madness does not have limits
installed, they are

human mind
is compartmentilized
confined with consepts
shackled
controlled by gigantic
watchdogs 

with words rules closed
with locks, codes
to painted notes
crammed in sport arenas
bureaus queuing numbers
grinded into molds
formulas of conduct

human mind -
cover up the worse of it
stuffed and dictated
must keep them up
the appearances
can not, can not, can not

formaldehyde benzene cadmium
carbon and monoxide
that lovely little
nicotine

human mind
I will myself the last one
this will be
I will, I will, i will, will, i

Bound By A Shriek

With the first shriek
you fastened
my heart
to belong
as yours

hided it with your
tiny little fingers
into yours

without knowing
instantly forgetting
it there

bound together they
beat in oblivion
out of reach
yet reminded of
each other

from here to the last of breaths
inseparable


--------------------------------------

I wrote this to a dear friend when their child was born

Night That Swallowed The Day

Eye patches
I put on to hold the light
I will remain here
I shut myself in
in bed molded here on
surrender as a relic
of life

powers beyond
will move even mountain
I cannot even only eyelids  of mine
close nor open

numbers of time run wild
till their goal
who and when
did close my shades
from the stare into dark

the envy for the day
and the ones who possess it
curse the night in which, I
fumble and scrabble
for a life
in my dark day
that swallowed the light
from nightless night

Song Of Life

Song of life
comes with all colors and
genre's of music
though I enjoy only two

digitalization

brings it loud
and to all around
24/7
I would sometimes
just prefer to

 b e

Thoughts of the Day

Cloudy haze
a misty maze
cotton candy

the days of my thoughts
cotton

dandelion's seedcase
in the will of winds
my thoughts
sway by drifting
waver away

an anchor I'd need
would you have it for me
days of my life
haze

cloudy maze
a rope to it to tie
the cotton to belt
gird the cloudy haze

anchor holds well but
rope suddenly starts to slip
cotton candy deprived from sweet
my thoughts my days
slip away before they end
what's left I now do own

Shades of Hell

The greys
with all of their shades
clouds with all the possible shapes
life with all its emotions


how heaven is so





attached to hell


bound so often
by one single word
or act
to chain of events

countless to imagine the colors
and hues of skies

hell does not burn
for it is black

and dark so that
as embraced
to its very depths

one begins to imagine black
not to lose sight
sidotut joskusyhdellä sanalla
     teolla
          tapahtumaan

laskea en saata värejä
sävyjä taivaan


helvetti ei pala
se on musta

niin synkkä että
syleillessään syvyyksiinsä
siellä alkaa kuvitella mustia
nähdäkseen

***

elämän laulu on
kaikkia sävyjä, musiikin
genrejä
vaikka pitäisin vain
kahdesta
digitalisaatio
tuo soiton kaikkialle
24/7
joskus tahtoisin vain

o l l a