Built Of Champagne Glasses

Laws of motion
something screaming through anger
laws shattered for
a second
that splits to neutrons
in slow motion
regret, before that
pride

can't remember what the issue was
on that occasion
the thick strong heavy glass
I do

sound that hurt not ears
but insides of
who I am

like crystal champagne glasses
used for building blocks of me
in heavy artillery of
fist sized rocks

splinter and water-drops traverse and
split the second fragments of
time with
shame
all over the kitchen
after collision with the sink
my first aggression at the adult age

I hear angels cry
beside our little ones

can one love so much that
it causes pain
like Lennie adored those cute soft things

I have seen at least a peak from
the gates of heaven
as we are but one
her smile erases
facts of life
without money I have traveled around
the world a thousands of times
just letting go and falling in her breathtakingly
blue eyes
gathered stars like diamonds
on the journey back

yet there I still stand
ashamed
but too proud to admit
listening the cries

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

Patience

Have mercy
on your soul
said the snail
to himself
at the beginning
of the glide up
the chute
of the seven storey high

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

mind full of 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

The Ones Whom

When I am gone
warm soft sun
kisses my cheek
hello

thick gentle breeze
like voice of my mother
lifts me to morning like no another

mountain creek chirps me
to refresh

two set of smiles
shine closing towards me
granting me fulfillment of
what I was seeking
whole life

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patience

 Have mercy
on your soul
said the snail
to himself
at the beginning
of the glide up
the chute
of the seven storey high

Sell Or Trade: A Head

Including brain, strained in use, but sharp when working properly, numerous different kind of data storage devices running back till 1978. You name it, we've got it. Regarding memory lamentably somewhat true-Bond of a version so forget the stirred - these are shaken. There has happened a few accidental flips, flops and flaps. Life. Overran and in too heavy use; there were multiple overlapping processes continually in too  little a capacity (few hundreds of times). Melted, stuck, dislocated....what do I know of technology - just had to give it a go...didn't...go. I only wanted to think, my own Zahir, thought of thinking. I give up. I hope a happy new home, if some nerd can still make this useful somehow. Plates are fine. The hair has started to grow on wrong places. In trade I'll take ordinary thoughtless head, simple will do, might even be for the better. Price is negotiable, a lot to bargain that is.

Lost On The Ways of Life Without Emergency

Always have this perceived so;
life to be a journey
crossroads of a choice
for me on the way
to a goal

destination's a riddle of 
intersections' mishmash
varieties of other
lives

a path, a way or an avenue
none to give a peak
to live a little
turn and 
renew

irreversible crossing invariably
are for prospectors of live
so choose with care
hopeful, determined 
or in chance

one-way streets are full of
unplanned dreams
or complex
issues

rules of the road, convenient 
to other,
do not apply 
or even exist
ticket of lottery 
you will have in your hand

so trust yourself for it gives 
you a feeling of 
upper hand
laws of life 
hap-hazardous occurrence

algorithm of life is lived
regulations reformulated 
as we stroll on  

-------

with junk of a so called car
I drive along  
given to me once with 
a statement: "no refunds" 
made of rust 
and unforgettable bumps 
clattering noise 
makes mine a home 
like the humming of heart 
with all it's faults   

with little repairs, 
little repairs
repairs
 
oil change made just enough time ago 
not to remember when
dipstick informs we are running low:
insignificance put on a hold
tires we have some 
without we can of the spare one  
throttle can still give us a ticket
if other parts 
fail us not 

most pleasant and relaxing a seat
at least on a driver
and you dared to hump along

ahead somewhere 
we will rest to repair
where, we will find out about  
eventually

we are together 
nonetheless

for now  

The Wait

The wait
time has extended so
and out of place

soon
to a little child
on a long road trip  

be there in a minute
to one smitten in love
on a date, early arrived

"please hold, your call will be answered shortly"
when to do-list consists on nerve breaking
mountain of piled up things

the wait
vacation still weeks
to come

the wait
asks not patience
how do you do?   
how does your waiting hold
and on hold how does your wait do? 

the wait 
like a fuse to Lapland
when here
and always vice versa   

ps. my patience ran out - it's not ready, but i couldn't wait... i'll work it on later... i will, i will
   

Pots And Pans

Cooking with five pans at once
even pots I got two
luckily hobs 
amount only four

children are parroted
hot thing! hot thing!
hobs are covered with guards
we prevent nothing from happening

cleaning on the
same time doing laundry
on bouncing washing machine
vacuum screamingly hissing sound killed 
by squealing fire alarm

watch for this 
       and notice that

have to remember and mind,
learn, to be cautious
and little more 
thorough

or else you 
              will not
    or you 
           will come

with pointer stick slaps
on fingers, directions 
to a good life

I myself can not
          go on anymore

pots and pans I ram
to oven too, the stew
main switch off
                    my head

lids I lock and seal
comfortable cushion
as can only dream

Quagmires And Dead Ends

Black painted thoughts
beyond the conscious
crammed in my head

no
not enough
out of stock with pity

quagmires and dead ends
frustrations of emptiness
pain that uses no name for itself

shut down mechanism of silence
transition to presence
calmer and colder than death
a life sucked out of joy

I laugh
to me or myself

cry
a dry tearless cry
asleep
in a dream
searching me
diving in my sorrow

Mother

In front did you know
the moment, felt it you may
rustling inside did you hear
that it is me

was it then you started, to weave
rope, completed in time
to the needs on occasion to come

to a rope to pull me into life
with it as quagmire into you
to pull through stressed early years
without sleep, like on tarmac
in a sledge pulling me behind

intertwining  an add-on rope, you did
giving the limits like on a neck of a dog

where did it come the anchor rope
that too did you do
and how had you knowledge
resiliently strict twined

along rebellious years I hid to banes
readily made was, of course
where had you strength to do that too
      and on time to throw
            a safety rope

at last I did find a way with an axe
to cut off our ways
loosen apart rope(s) had become

mine escaping to freedom
thine holding to it's own

diverging ways of two
in the run mine got lost too
in places that even shadows don't shine

lost ropeless crouching cries
no where or strength to go
a way with an axe I  came across
with it writing to stone

MOTHER: do you have rope to home
yes,
always

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

I don't know does this work at all in English (Finnish is a superior language). I thought long  and hard and almost deleted this but egoism or need to share - who knows - decided eventually push the "publish"

I wrote it to my mother on Mother's Day this year since she insisted that I can't waste money on flowers. This one is so personal to me that it's impossible to say how bad or good it really is. I'm blinded by love on this one.