Dream

If only I could traverse
always back
to that

Stabbed In The Back

The powder,
nausea,
jealousy of
competition,
the worst coming from
the heist

to use her grandest asset
her own palest shine
stabbed with,
icicle

Reality Scared Shitless

Here for you all entertainment, 24/7, reality TV
and soap dreams, simple things to simple people brain
melting or wannabees, reality would be scared to death
if it would see its face on TV - and so would TV
in mirror of reality; was this what I was made for

Would You Set The Bed

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

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 a 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 of mine
I hurry on

Broken Acts

I am a therapy to myself
in words

a road winding like a creek
in spring time
snake on a rock
slush in hailstorm
books in foreign languages

a flower
grinding its way through
tarmac
through or
from the crack?

success always comes with price
and likelihood

what I want, where, when
with words

acts are broken

not functioning
hole in the tank
fuel is consumed in the
act of filling up

with words I write pain to words
with words the pain to pieces
as words to sentences
dreams

then if and when, dreams

acts broken

convict of self-made prison
out of pain, with
words to sentences
invented dreams to escape

words for words as words
in a row I place
as words to words to utter

since acts are broken