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,
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.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)