These eyes, they're dead eyes
This smile's a dead smile
And I'm empty inside
A window pane
With the imprint
Of your hand
It shows in my eyes
When I slant my head
And repeat myself
With every spoken word
You can tell
With every whisper
From my hell
The rebel spark in me, is dying
The voice in my head is lying
I can't be anything
Can't have it all
That's the illusion
They built for my fall
These hands, are frozen hands
This knot, a rusted rope
And I'm empty inside
A window in rain
With the imprint
Of your fingers
Thursday, May 27
Monday, May 24
My Bloody Hands
At first you had my pardon
While you were in shock, I pitied you
I was sorry for your loss
For disturbing you
With bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
At first, I felt for you
The broken china, repairing you
I wanted to glue us together
I was healing you
With bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
By now I fear for you
For everything you seek into
It was my blood, on my hands
You didn't see
My selfless hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
By now, you're in debt to me
Even while scared you should care for me
And be sorry for my scars
The devil applied
On my bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Taking away safe, replacing with harm
Stirring whirlwinds, and hurricanes
And burning the barn
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide...
While you were in shock, I pitied you
I was sorry for your loss
For disturbing you
With bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
At first, I felt for you
The broken china, repairing you
I wanted to glue us together
I was healing you
With bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
By now I fear for you
For everything you seek into
It was my blood, on my hands
You didn't see
My selfless hands
My wild collided with your calm
Ruining everything you knew
Stirring winds and storms
In your sky, so clear, so blue
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide
By now, you're in debt to me
Even while scared you should care for me
And be sorry for my scars
The devil applied
On my bloody hands
My wild collided with your calm
Taking away safe, replacing with harm
Stirring whirlwinds, and hurricanes
And burning the barn
Your innocence, doll, your smile
I run it down, as we collide...
Saturday, May 22
Bricks & Pillars
Oh, you felt guilty for everything
That's weighed you down
And you have felt like the tower
Now crashing to the ground
I don't blame you for your love
I don't blame you for what was
Come closer, I can pass my love to you
What little I got left, we could split in two
Come closer, I can give you my hand
Lead your way, through your day
And I'll help you build
Your golden bricks, and silver pillars
And I will lift you up
Don't give up, yet
Don't give in, my friend
Though I know this feels like the end
I know this feels like the end
I know you feel selfish, for mourning
All that you were given
And you have felt like a dying stream
I don't blame you for your love
I just won't let you drown,
let you down
Come closer, I can pass some love to you
What little I got left, we could split in two
Come closer, little angel made of dust
Don't stay there in the rain,
I won't let you rust
Now we build your golden bricks
and silver pillars
And I will lift you up
Don't give up, yet
Don't give in, my friend
Though I know this feels like the end
I know this feels like the end
Of us
____________________________
A song meant for my Karoliina Piispa.
Hang in there.
POET IN THE JAR
That's weighed you down
And you have felt like the tower
Now crashing to the ground
I don't blame you for your love
I don't blame you for what was
Come closer, I can pass my love to you
What little I got left, we could split in two
Come closer, I can give you my hand
Lead your way, through your day
And I'll help you build
Your golden bricks, and silver pillars
And I will lift you up
Don't give up, yet
Don't give in, my friend
Though I know this feels like the end
I know this feels like the end
I know you feel selfish, for mourning
All that you were given
And you have felt like a dying stream
I don't blame you for your love
I just won't let you drown,
let you down
Come closer, I can pass some love to you
What little I got left, we could split in two
Come closer, little angel made of dust
Don't stay there in the rain,
I won't let you rust
Now we build your golden bricks
and silver pillars
And I will lift you up
Don't give up, yet
Don't give in, my friend
Though I know this feels like the end
I know this feels like the end
Of us
____________________________
A song meant for my Karoliina Piispa.
Hang in there.
POET IN THE JAR
Monday, May 17
Idiocy - I'll Be Truthful
Just a few weeks left and I can leave this place, seems like so many of the people here, even friends, are total idiots! Everyone is either hurting everyone else, making nothing out of big deals, and making big deals out of nothing. Everywhere you look it's just complicated and hurtful, even among your friends, among people you knew; everyone carries dark secrets with them that you don't see by first glance. Why do you always happen to get in the way of idiots when there's so many good and trustworthy people? I don't understand, and I don't understand some of the things that people can actually allow themselves to do to eachother.
I could just sit by quietly and watch all of it, and shut the fuck up about it, but that wouldn't be me. It would go against everything I've ever encouraged others to do, everything that I stand for. I will hold back slightly, out of respect to my friend. I will mention no one by name, I will not go into exact detail out of respect to my own integrity, but I'm going to tell you what happened.
This weekend I had too much to drink and ended up being approached by my friend's partner in a very inappropriate way, while I was sleeping. It stuns me that someone would cross that line. I'm angry and disappointed, and worried about my friend, and how she's taking it. I told her what happened, I think she already knew it, but it doesn't matter. What friend would I be if I didn't tell? I hope she understands that I have no reason to lie. I've been her friend for a few years now. I don't want her to be angry with me, don't want to lose her. I don't know how to patch things together, I feel like it's my fault even though it isn't, and it makes me angry too, I'm supposed to be a strong person and no one has that right, to cross that border. You just don't cross it. No matter if you're drunk, you should be able to think, you should be able to think somewhere deep inside that this is not okay, this is taking it too far.
I wish I'd been more sober myself and I would have left as soon as it happened, but I could barely even lift my head up without the room spinning. This just sucks! And what an end to an otherwise perfectly nice night? I don't get it... it's not fair!
Phew. There I got it out of me. Those of you who haven't heard about it already, now you know, at least shallowly and that's a good thing. Because no one tells me to shut up. No one tells me what to say or not to say, what to write or not to write. No one tells me who I am - and no one, absolutely no one - has that right.
POET in the JAR
I could just sit by quietly and watch all of it, and shut the fuck up about it, but that wouldn't be me. It would go against everything I've ever encouraged others to do, everything that I stand for. I will hold back slightly, out of respect to my friend. I will mention no one by name, I will not go into exact detail out of respect to my own integrity, but I'm going to tell you what happened.
This weekend I had too much to drink and ended up being approached by my friend's partner in a very inappropriate way, while I was sleeping. It stuns me that someone would cross that line. I'm angry and disappointed, and worried about my friend, and how she's taking it. I told her what happened, I think she already knew it, but it doesn't matter. What friend would I be if I didn't tell? I hope she understands that I have no reason to lie. I've been her friend for a few years now. I don't want her to be angry with me, don't want to lose her. I don't know how to patch things together, I feel like it's my fault even though it isn't, and it makes me angry too, I'm supposed to be a strong person and no one has that right, to cross that border. You just don't cross it. No matter if you're drunk, you should be able to think, you should be able to think somewhere deep inside that this is not okay, this is taking it too far.
I wish I'd been more sober myself and I would have left as soon as it happened, but I could barely even lift my head up without the room spinning. This just sucks! And what an end to an otherwise perfectly nice night? I don't get it... it's not fair!
Phew. There I got it out of me. Those of you who haven't heard about it already, now you know, at least shallowly and that's a good thing. Because no one tells me to shut up. No one tells me what to say or not to say, what to write or not to write. No one tells me who I am - and no one, absolutely no one - has that right.
POET in the JAR
Wednesday, May 12
Hunt That Word Flow!
The idea is spinning uncontrollably in my head and I can't breathe, every waking second it's on my mind, it's in my blood, racing. The story is telling itself inside my head, sometimes in slow motion, other times in ultra rapid speed, always altering, always revising, always coming up with better ways. It ties itself together as it spins through my subconscious, when I least expect the solutions to appear is when they pop out and seem... obvious. I wonder why I never thought of it before.
My fingers are itching to act out on this, to type, to turn this imagery and world inside my head into letters on a page so that someone other than me can see it. Can grasp how beautiful, how sorrowful, it is; even though my ways of describing it in words will never be quite enough to mediate what it's really like.
Alarm clocks go off inside my head telling me I have the previous novel to revise, a poem collection to finish, an apartment to clean out, course books to read, cats to feed, a tattoo machine to fix and a painting to make but I put them on snooze, shutting out those that aren't immediately important in favor for those that can possibly afford 10 minutes more of snoozing... because the idea is fleeting, the world is fleeting, and I have to grasp it while I can. These flows don't happen often. Not even during Nanowrimo, when all you do is write, putting less crucial things such as personal hygiene aside; do you often see them. They hit you sometimes in the madness around 3 AM on a week night when you can't sleep, or when you're nowhere near your word processor and you have to jot it all down on a coffee machine filter for the time being; but this is a flow, and a major flow, and I have to catch it until something dams it up and blocks it off entirely. Like a beaver (I am convinced this will amuse a certain someone) building a dam across the river bed stopping the water from running wild and free.
Patience dears, I'm getting there eventually, but for now Jake & Maddy need me,
and I have to catch that flow.
Hunt that flow!
POET IN THE INSANELY PRODUCTIVE; EFFICIENT AND SLEEPLESS JAR
My fingers are itching to act out on this, to type, to turn this imagery and world inside my head into letters on a page so that someone other than me can see it. Can grasp how beautiful, how sorrowful, it is; even though my ways of describing it in words will never be quite enough to mediate what it's really like.
Alarm clocks go off inside my head telling me I have the previous novel to revise, a poem collection to finish, an apartment to clean out, course books to read, cats to feed, a tattoo machine to fix and a painting to make but I put them on snooze, shutting out those that aren't immediately important in favor for those that can possibly afford 10 minutes more of snoozing... because the idea is fleeting, the world is fleeting, and I have to grasp it while I can. These flows don't happen often. Not even during Nanowrimo, when all you do is write, putting less crucial things such as personal hygiene aside; do you often see them. They hit you sometimes in the madness around 3 AM on a week night when you can't sleep, or when you're nowhere near your word processor and you have to jot it all down on a coffee machine filter for the time being; but this is a flow, and a major flow, and I have to catch it until something dams it up and blocks it off entirely. Like a beaver (I am convinced this will amuse a certain someone) building a dam across the river bed stopping the water from running wild and free.
Patience dears, I'm getting there eventually, but for now Jake & Maddy need me,
and I have to catch that flow.
Hunt that flow!
POET IN THE INSANELY PRODUCTIVE; EFFICIENT AND SLEEPLESS JAR
Tuesday, May 11
Chasing Ella
Jake and Maddy are two brothers accidentally ending up in a fight with a couple of older boys. The situation is half salvaged by the old man Ellis walking in on the fight. When paying their respects to the man months later, at his funeral, something strange happens involving the graveyard's gravedigger, and the brothers find themselves in a completely new and sinister world. Ella's world. With the idea of finding Ella weighing on Jake's mind he continously zones away from reality and retreats into himself - counting on Maddy to keep them both out of the worst trouble.
Maddy is the narrator in this Alice-inspired tale, landing you in the middle of a dark dream world as far from any children's story as you can get.
Maddy is the narrator in this Alice-inspired tale, landing you in the middle of a dark dream world as far from any children's story as you can get.
Thursday, May 6
Alice & The Caterpillar
A slanting sign post
Slanting arrows
Which to follow?
Which to trust?
She's a little girl in a blue little dress
A question mark, a game of chess
She's Cheshire, she's Lancelot
The giant mushroom,
in the parking lot
She wanders on, sign says Here
The other sign points her Over There
Maybe she should take neither,
and just walk across the grass
Some of Caterpillar's grass
I'm Caterpillar, in my cocoon,
I'm everything from sun to moon
I'm a man of riddles, a man of smoke
She senses my fumes
I make her choke
I will stroke your hair, Alice
Your dark blue curls
Blow little smoke rings,
Over your head
Then leave you with the mushroom, instead
And the slanting signs
The cookies in the glass jar
And the Drink Me wine
I have to go now, Alice
Leaving my cocoon
Hate to leave you guideless
And lost, so soon
But follow those signs, Alice
They'll lead you the way
Anywhere they take you will be
Some other where than here
And some other where than here
Will be some other place than now
Some other time or no time at all
Tea time, doubly so!
Now hurry on,
You never know
Keep your hat on, Alice, and bow
To yourself
And to no one else
Bow to no one else
Slanting arrows
Which to follow?
Which to trust?
She's a little girl in a blue little dress
A question mark, a game of chess
She's Cheshire, she's Lancelot
The giant mushroom,
in the parking lot
She wanders on, sign says Here
The other sign points her Over There
Maybe she should take neither,
and just walk across the grass
Some of Caterpillar's grass
I'm Caterpillar, in my cocoon,
I'm everything from sun to moon
I'm a man of riddles, a man of smoke
She senses my fumes
I make her choke
I will stroke your hair, Alice
Your dark blue curls
Blow little smoke rings,
Over your head
Then leave you with the mushroom, instead
And the slanting signs
The cookies in the glass jar
And the Drink Me wine
I have to go now, Alice
Leaving my cocoon
Hate to leave you guideless
And lost, so soon
But follow those signs, Alice
They'll lead you the way
Anywhere they take you will be
Some other where than here
And some other where than here
Will be some other place than now
Some other time or no time at all
Tea time, doubly so!
Now hurry on,
You never know
Keep your hat on, Alice, and bow
To yourself
And to no one else
Bow to no one else
Wednesday, May 5
Tea
I don't want to be
your bitter flavored tea.
I want to be the lemon slice,
all the sugar, all the spice,
the scent of safety
behind the void.
Stir me like you stir your tea,
have me like you wanted me,
good and pure,
and then destroyed.
I'll be bitter,
I'll be sweet,
all of what you want from me.
But you will choke on me.
You will choke on me.
your bitter flavored tea.
I want to be the lemon slice,
all the sugar, all the spice,
the scent of safety
behind the void.
Stir me like you stir your tea,
have me like you wanted me,
good and pure,
and then destroyed.
I'll be bitter,
I'll be sweet,
all of what you want from me.
But you will choke on me.
You will choke on me.
Sunday, May 2
Gunsmoke
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You build a world of mirrors
Never look in the glass
And follow the train tracks
Without looking back
You never stop,
You never breathe
Never to take time for me
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You lost your hope in the funhouse
Lost among the aisles
Chasing your demons,
Chasing your vial
You never cease
Glass from lips
Always have that wine
At ready
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
I'm not the heart by hire
I'm gunsmoke, burnt out fire
I can see it in your shallow eyes
You rule out fire for cold ice
I'm not what you're looking for
Don't you realize?
I'm not your replica
Not your copy
Not your lie
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You've done your work with me
Leave me in my bed, go home,
Fall asleep
In your own sheets,
With your own scent
With your own replica
Paying your rent
Where is your desire
Where is your greed?
Ignore connections,
And attraction
Heart by hire
All you need
A heart you're leasing
might not bleed
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You build a world of mirrors
Never look in the glass
And follow the train tracks
Without looking back
You never stop,
You never breathe
Never to take time for me
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You lost your hope in the funhouse
Lost among the aisles
Chasing your demons,
Chasing your vial
You never cease
Glass from lips
Always have that wine
At ready
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
I'm not the heart by hire
I'm gunsmoke, burnt out fire
I can see it in your shallow eyes
You rule out fire for cold ice
I'm not what you're looking for
Don't you realize?
I'm not your replica
Not your copy
Not your lie
Where is your desire
The fire in your eyes
Your lust, your greed
Your bullet time,
Slow motion speed
A heart by hire
All you need
You've done your work with me
Leave me in my bed, go home,
Fall asleep
In your own sheets,
With your own scent
With your own replica
Paying your rent
Where is your desire
Where is your greed?
Ignore connections,
And attraction
Heart by hire
All you need
A heart you're leasing
might not bleed
Magic, Cynic
Could it for once be something... more? Something that wasn't entirely schemed, planned out and calculated from every direction? Couldn't there be that look across the room, across the road, the sound of her light steps on the floor, on the pavement? Could there be an honest smile? Could there be gentle eyes? Wiping away every inch of me that is cynic and tough. Wiping it away with the magic.
I'm not a romantic in person. Not in the way of pink glouds (yes, glouds), glitter and a big fancy marriage in a church, or getting so attached to your other half that that's exactly what you become - half a person. Two people joined together as one, losing all identity and touch. Not in the way of believing that love is something that gets stronger over the years, rather than losing all of its introductory charm. I know that what you feel for someone can be strengthened by the day. I was there, I've felt it, I know it. And it was different from other things I known. But the deep part of me, the one deep inside that doesn't act like me, speak like me, think like me; that part didn't disappear. There were still feelings of being chained to the ground. It was because I hadn't found the right one. I had found someone I let very close, someone who it hurt to love. But it wasn't the one. Couldn't been.
If there is such a thing as a soulmate, how does it work? Can you really just find one person that is that mirror of yourself, without becoming your replica; and if it doesn't work out that's it? We've blown it? I doubt it, it just doesn't feel right, but when did life feel right? When was life fair, last time I checked? And if there are indeed odds that we will find that one person who's completely right for us, the odds that it will last seem to shrink beside it, in comparison.
I'm not looking for something perfect, something magical, or something that was meant to be. I just wish I wasn't looking at all. And if indeed I wasn't, I'd accidentally stumble upon something small, that was real. Something that was not calculations made on a match making site, an assumption of attraction only based on our sexual identities, something that wasn't a random and shallow encounter in some bar just to be left the day after. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. I make it out to be as though I was left and hurt while friends of mine don't find it odd at all to be thrown away like a useless rag after use. Some call it casual, that we all have needs, that it's all done on equal demands.
But is it?
We're shallow people, we've lost our faith in romance. I don't remember what it's like to cast a look across a room and meet a pair of eyes and you just instantly know that there's a connection. I don't remember what it's like to kiss someone sober, in a magical moment, a first kiss full of anticipation and desire. I don't know what it's like to have someone close to you that doesn't feel like a burden, that gives you energy rather than taking it away.
Why am I up at this hour, why am I like this again, will things never turn back to normal? I want to be the person I used to be, I want to believe, I want to feel there is something out there for me, someone, someone with those pretty shoes. Someone witty and smart, and reassuringly odd, an Alice, a little girl. I don't wanna be up at 4.11 AM on a Saturday night staring at a screen at words that feel dead to my eyes even as I type them. I don't want to feel like I'm dead, like I'm dying away from everything that's worth living.
I don't wanna wait. I don't wanna wait for everything to work out eventually. I want things now and I want them good, I want it all, I'm done with substitutes, which everything that's trivial and doesn't matter. I want this month to race by because in a new city I can have a new start and a new life and who knows maybe just a grain of something that resembles love.
Something that's real.
Just a look. With those sparkling eyes.
I want to know when I will find you.
When I will find her.
So I know if it'll be worth my wait.
POET IN THE JAR
I'm not a romantic in person. Not in the way of pink glouds (yes, glouds), glitter and a big fancy marriage in a church, or getting so attached to your other half that that's exactly what you become - half a person. Two people joined together as one, losing all identity and touch. Not in the way of believing that love is something that gets stronger over the years, rather than losing all of its introductory charm. I know that what you feel for someone can be strengthened by the day. I was there, I've felt it, I know it. And it was different from other things I known. But the deep part of me, the one deep inside that doesn't act like me, speak like me, think like me; that part didn't disappear. There were still feelings of being chained to the ground. It was because I hadn't found the right one. I had found someone I let very close, someone who it hurt to love. But it wasn't the one. Couldn't been.
If there is such a thing as a soulmate, how does it work? Can you really just find one person that is that mirror of yourself, without becoming your replica; and if it doesn't work out that's it? We've blown it? I doubt it, it just doesn't feel right, but when did life feel right? When was life fair, last time I checked? And if there are indeed odds that we will find that one person who's completely right for us, the odds that it will last seem to shrink beside it, in comparison.
I'm not looking for something perfect, something magical, or something that was meant to be. I just wish I wasn't looking at all. And if indeed I wasn't, I'd accidentally stumble upon something small, that was real. Something that was not calculations made on a match making site, an assumption of attraction only based on our sexual identities, something that wasn't a random and shallow encounter in some bar just to be left the day after. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. I make it out to be as though I was left and hurt while friends of mine don't find it odd at all to be thrown away like a useless rag after use. Some call it casual, that we all have needs, that it's all done on equal demands.
But is it?
We're shallow people, we've lost our faith in romance. I don't remember what it's like to cast a look across a room and meet a pair of eyes and you just instantly know that there's a connection. I don't remember what it's like to kiss someone sober, in a magical moment, a first kiss full of anticipation and desire. I don't know what it's like to have someone close to you that doesn't feel like a burden, that gives you energy rather than taking it away.
Why am I up at this hour, why am I like this again, will things never turn back to normal? I want to be the person I used to be, I want to believe, I want to feel there is something out there for me, someone, someone with those pretty shoes. Someone witty and smart, and reassuringly odd, an Alice, a little girl. I don't wanna be up at 4.11 AM on a Saturday night staring at a screen at words that feel dead to my eyes even as I type them. I don't want to feel like I'm dead, like I'm dying away from everything that's worth living.
I don't wanna wait. I don't wanna wait for everything to work out eventually. I want things now and I want them good, I want it all, I'm done with substitutes, which everything that's trivial and doesn't matter. I want this month to race by because in a new city I can have a new start and a new life and who knows maybe just a grain of something that resembles love.
Something that's real.
Just a look. With those sparkling eyes.
I want to know when I will find you.
When I will find her.
So I know if it'll be worth my wait.
POET IN THE JAR
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