Monday, October 15, 2012


We´re all princesses 1. and 2.



1.

We’re all princesses
loving to be loved.
We’re all kittens
furry and funny.
We all want to be
someone’s baby and someone’s mom.

There’s a house,
there’s no plan.
There’s the sea,
and the wish to swim.

And I’m full of poems,
to burst to spill on you, on everyone.
I’ll sing them out later,
I’ll be the sea.



2.


We’re all princesses,
waiting to be wanted.
And we’re all lions
knowing what’s best for us and for the others.

We’re all cubs,
we’re all mothers,
we’re all fierce when ours is taken away.

And we smile back when someone smiles at us.
And we smile back when someone smiles at us.

mustaa, valkee




mustaa –
valkee –

Lattialla on valkeita muistoja,
suussa on mustia sanoja.
Viime yössä oli kaksi eri nimistä
eikä tämä aamu ala loppua,
eikä tämä päivä ala alkaa.

valkee –
mustaa – tilaa uusille muistoille

ja kylmät kaakelit.

black and white as


black and white as
the sink,
the floor, white
as in the memories from
last night
like the two girls,
and this day
or morning not
starting or ending

no light,
only the white,
no one in the kitchen,
here the tiles, seams in between, fractures,
no wish to go
no need to leave

and the dripping
of the white water
on the black,
the sweat,
no memories,
as the black
as the white

the cold tiles,
the surface
of the white,
the endless of the black space for the memories to come.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Friday, August 24, 2012

About leaving


About leaving (a song)


You were sitting on a chair
in a silent room,
I was lying on a bed
just beside you.

You were not leaving
as there was no one left to follow.

We talked about following,
and I lost my opinion,
Because it’s like borrowing
someone else’s dream to leave.


                      Sometimes I’m stuck in your orbit
and I can’t take my own course
and I don’t understand all.
Maybe there’s nothing to know of
just sometimes to make sure 
I’m dreaming my own dreams through (doing my own things too.)


I was crying on my bed
my head was full
of images of you
and of her who loves you too.

And my tears
are for the fear
of loosing.

And we talked about love and loving,
I lost my opinion
because it’s like the river and the stream
of lightness and kindness and giving.

I won’t ever loose you
you are my friend
as the situations change
we are soft like the summer air.

Odottamassa




Katsomassa kun varjot vaihtuu,
odottamassa ratikkaa ja
seuraavaa 
ja päivää,
että paistais aurinko.

Ja unohtamassa hymyillä
ja olematta uskaltamatta sanoa
moi ja kiitos ja ole hyvä.

Ja huomaamassa kukat
ja nauramisen, mutta
olematta muistamatta muuta.




Ei ole



Ei ole aamua,
ei ole aamulla.
Ei ole eteenpäin,

ei ole eteen, eikä päin.
                      Mutta aina kun hymyilee saa hymyilyn,

ja aina kun sataa, sataa.

auringon aamulla



auringon aamulla
ratikan äänet,

koneet repii asfalttia irti
alhaalla

ja minun rintalastaa
painaa, niskan takana

vetää ylös ja takaviistoon,
tukistaa vähän,

joku tunne
vetää ja kielenkannassa,

kitalaessa omenan jälkeen
hapan makea,

en juonu mitään
ja siitä jäi jälki.




Thursday, August 9, 2012

no plan


No plan


We’re all princesses
loving to be loved.
We’re all kittens
furry and funny.
We all want to be
Someones baby and someones mom.

There’s a house,
there’s no plan.

There’s the sea and the wish to swim.
There are the waves of kisses.
I’m the wave and you’re the sea.
I’m full of words of romance
to come out.

I’m full of poems of happiness
to burst to spill on you, on everyone.
I’ll sing them out later,
they’ll come and I’ll be the sea.

about leaving


Leaving

You were sitting on a chair
in a silent room,
I was lying on a bed
just beside you.

You were not leaving
as there was no one left to follow.

We talked about following,
I lost my opinion,
Because it’s like borrowing
someone else’s dream to leave.

                      Sometimes I’m stuck in your orbit
and I can’t take my own course
and I don’t understand all.
Maybe there’s nothing to know of
just sometimes to make sure
I’m dreaming my own dreams through.

I was crying on my bed
my head was full
of images of you
and her who loves you too.

And my tears
are for the fear
of loosing.

And we talked about love and loving,
I lost my opinion
because it’s like the river and the stream
of lightness and kindness and kissing.

I won’t ever loose you,
you are my friend,
as the situations change
we are soft like the summer air.




The Girl and The Tree



The Girl and the Tree

Once upon a time in a land not so far a way lived a girl with wavy hair. She had a laugh that could wake up a giant and a smile that would melt the frozen sea. When she hummed, the birds would come listen and when she sang they would sing along with her.

One day she was looking for a place to rest, either a home or a nest. She met a tree that she liked right away. She smiled at him and went up the stairs, up up up until she reached the highest leaves, in the crown of the tree. There she found a piano and on the table, always a warm cup of tea.

She visited many times and the tree was always there for her.  Mr. Tree, as he liked himself to be called, was funny and warm, yet fierce. He was kind to the small birds that came to sing to him.  

Mr Tree's long hair of leaves smelled of the salty air near the sea. The leaves would fall down in the autumn and the branches would get tangled up by the strong winds. To help Mr. Tree, the girl would comb his long hair. She took it upon herself to help him with the knots, solving the mysterious tangles and freeing up space for new green to grow. Sometimes she would be gentle with his hair; sometimes she would rip and tear the branches, and Mr. Tree would shake his head and say ''stop, you’re hurting me.''

One night the girl came to play and to sing old songs from her country. The songs were sad and melancholic. Mr. Tree listened quietly. He told the girl something wise to comfort her, and then something silly to make her laugh. The girl laughed so loud that it started to rain so much that the land flooded and the girl couldn’t go home. She asked Mr Tree shyly if she could stay for the night and sleep in his arms. They both dreamt about love, the rhythm of the sea, and silken chocolate cake filled with cream.

Time passed and the girl began to miss her country more and more. She sang the folk songs of her people to help to remember her land. The birds became so sad for her that they didn’t want to sing anymore. The Tree gave her some comfort, but it wasn't enough. She climbed up to him and he surrounded her with his warm bark and soft leaves. She needed to go and sing her songs on the ground of her country, where her songs were understood.

The girl left that place where Mr Tree grew but never forgot him.

Friday, April 27, 2012

time


I just got the realization that time never stops, that it keeps moving. There’s no way back to the past , like there’s no fast forward to the future. I understood it just now that I’m here and not somewhere else and even though I miss people or moments elsewhere, I can’t go anywhere to find something to be the same.


Nothing has stayed the same as I remember, nowhere. 

No one is the same how I knew them or how i think i know them.  


It seems stupid and simple and i just felt this few days ago.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Day 1 after summer 2011, coming back to Berlin




As I come out from the airplane the smile comes to my face.
The air is heavier than in Finland, it's warm and full.
At the S-Bahn station Beusselstrasse I’m flirting with a cute guy and he walks past me and smiles. He takes the S41-train. I take the 42 to the other direction.
Home is still here, but no one is home. My room feels like no one lived there, the spirit is gone.
I clean a bit and get a culture shock about the dirt in the kitchen. I clean more.
I sleep.
sleep.
sleep.
sleep.
I clean more and I throw away my pillows.
When I try to sleep the sun comes in and wakes me up. 
I eat together with a girl staying at our place and then Sabine comes and we talk.
We bike to Prenzlauer Berg and go for tea and then to the contact jam. 
I meet many of my friends there, I feel disconnected. My soul is still travelling somewhere in the air, or it's still in Helsinki. It’s going to take time.
I come home through the dark city, it’s more quiet than I remembered. 

(nyt kuulostaa ihan unelta)

it is the hot, it is the poem



I don't write poems, 
i write how the weather is, or questions,
How it rains today or doesn't.

It's me and me, it's the emptiness around. The poem.

It's me pushing away the lover when it gets too hot and sweaty under the blankets made of feathers. 

The poem is the silence and space around, that i need, that is mine, 
that is around me. And it is the sweat, it is the hot. 

Miteinander - i like this word - ich mag dieses Wort, ich mag es sehr.


MITEINANDER

MIT EIN ANDER

MITEIN

EINANDER

MITEINANDER

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

suunnittelematta sunnuntai


           
                                                                                             
Onko oikeasti, onko
mahdollista olla rehellinen
ihan arkisesti,
onko mahdollista onko onko,
olla suunnittelematta tunteitaan,
reaktioitaan,
minun ja sinun ja minun.

Onko mahdollista olla
arkinen ihan rehellisesti
ja erikoisen rehellinen
kokoajan arjessa
ja suunnitella sunnuntaita
vasta kun se on siinä, tässä, sohvalla, pyörien pyörien alla,
ihossa, lihassa, tuulessa.

Sunnuntai tulee sohvalle,
istuu alas ja odottaa.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

U-bahn


mies istuu metron penkissä,
katsoo minua silmiin,
katsoo nauraa ja meillä on mustat takit,
nahkakengät,
kännykät ja kirjat,
koulupaperit,
kaikki vierekkäin.
Katotaan sää metron telkkarista
+4 ja pilvistä

tänään huomenna ylihuomenna.

Vuoronumeroita


Kymmenen numeroa jäljellä,
kymmenen ihmistä.

Kymmenen ihmisen sukulaiset,
kymmenen ihmisen rakkaudet,
kymmenen ihmisen sukulaisten ja rakkauksien unet,
kymmenen ihmisen ja sukulaisten ja rakkauksien unien värit,
kymmenen ihmisen ja sukulaisten ja sukulaisten rakkauksien ja ihastusten ja kymmenen ihmisen rakkauksien unien värit ja maut ja todellisuudet.

Kymmenen ihmisen tulevat rakkaudet ja rakkauksien sukulaisten lasten painajaiset ja ensimmäiset suudelmat.

Kymmenen ihmisen lempiruoat.
Kymmenen ihmisen kaikki vaatteet, yhdessä kasassa.
Kymmenen ihmisen liikakilot,
kymmenen ihmisen lemmikkien ilmavaivat,
kymmenen ihmisen isovanhemmat.

Kymmenen ihmisen omat ja/tai puolison viikset.
Virheet. 
Villapaidat. 
Änkytykset. 
Ongelmat. 
Traumat. 
Onnettomuudet.

Ystävät.

          Unelmat. 

      Tulevaisuudet.






hautuumaalla


Mustia perheitä ryhmänarisuttamassa joulun lunta,
ja melkein huomaamattomia

tervehdyksiä,

toivotuksia.

uuteen kotiin


Matkalla uuteen kotiin
kun maas’ on hanki,
multapelloilla valkeeta,
rehupallot hymyilee
hammasriveinä.
Aurinko paistaa
sisään ja mummo
nukkuu ikkunaa vasten karvahattu korvilla.
Taivas on sininen kuin unissa.

pimeä/dark




auringonlasku alkaa kolmelta kunnes
on sinistä kunnes
on pimeä.

the sunset starts at three until
it's blue until
it's dark.