Svalbard Dreams

Today I suddenly got this feeling that I’d have to move to the island of Svalbard to experience one of the most northern arctic cities that exists. From the pictures that I’ve seen of Longyearbyen, the town looks ravishing despite the barren and untouched surroundings.


Pyramiden, Svalbard

Pyramiden, Svalbard (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Mostly my interest lies in visiting Pyramiden, which is an abandoned mining settlement containing the northernmost statue of Lenin. From the pictures the settlement could be thought to be haunted. A very inspiring atmosphere shrouds the entirety of the island.


English: Rows of multicoloured homes in the to...

English: Rows of multicoloured homes in the town of Longyearbyen. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Many would-be tourists like myself are usually interested in seeing the polar bears, as apparently the islands are full of them. So full that the university borrow’s rifles to the students that go on expeditions into the wilderness.


Another interesting fact about the island is that there is no sun at all during the winter. Living in Finland I’m always missing the sun during the winter, but there are only a few completely pitch dark days compared to Svalbard’s nearly eternal sounding darkness.

Of course there’s another side to it, there’s a short period of all day long sun. It makes me wonder how beautiful are the islands during the summer months when you’d probably see the permafrost glimmering in the sun.


Svalbard, tundra landscape

Svalbard, tundra landscape (Photo credit: Billy Lindblom)


I wonder if I’d have a chance at landing a job there. To be honest I have no idea of the job market in Longyearbyen or the nearby settlements. Could I hope to work, if I was hoping to have a longer visit? Perhaps I’ll find the answer to that question later. Until then I’ll be dreaming of Svalbard.



Poem: On Our Way Home

The quiet nights with fading lights,
Lone girls on their way through,
going to their sweetheart’s arms,
as the stars fade between heavy storm clouds.

It was such a shame:

Joey took a taxi feeling alive,
in the backseat with Shane
biding his time,
the wind gives a smile somewhere
down the line, they’re
on their way home from the bistro
Casa Blanca’s on a 58 Corvette,
broken down car, crammed with
swear words under its hood.

The taxi driver was a family man,
two kids and half a wife,
average in height, slightly plump,
lips like bagels.

No one saw the taxi driver,
except for his right hand,
which was rough lazy holding
the wheel lightly, hung,
relaxed over the music from the radio,
top hits twenty-twenty soul vision.

Parking meter streets hiss by the mile,
the car swerves down alleys, up the hills,
The driver tells Shane the song that plays
is about his wife, while Joey’s sitting around
snoozing, hanging his head hurting his neck.

There’s a couple arguing in a gateway,
the man’s making for a getaway, but she won’t let up,
they both stop as they see the taxi stalling by,
Joey wakes up and gives the driver a fifty dollar bill,
dreams come through and true one day,
the taxi driver whispers to Shane.

No one had noticed that it had been raining all along,
the water felt like balm, olive oil
extra virgin on the skin, real nice.
The taxi skids off into the distance free,
Leaving both Joey and Shane,
in five past 5 AM and the couple goes on arguing,
arguing, and someone off a balcony
starts complaining.

Soon the post-apocalyptic morning sun,
rises between the ten story buildings,
glimpsing from time to time. Joey smiles
dripping wet, soggy like a dog
as water fills his shoes.

The worst nights are the best to go up home,
to walk up the flights of stairs while coughing out
last night’s smokes. To finally crash,
into bed and snore formaldehyde dreams,
before the fully automatic T-twennee Sunbeam
calls the lonesome morning cockadoodle,

Flash Fiction: Grandpa Caleb

15th century depiction of Cain and Abel, Specu...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Long ago, a young couple had run off from home. They had traveled towards the east. Always to the east, hitchhiking and jumping trains. The couple knew each other intimately and soon they had twins. They called the older one Caleb and the younger one Dave. The young mother was happy, for the birth had been relatively easy and she gave her thanks to the great creator of the universe.

Though the family was impoverished the kids grew up into fine young men. Dave had an affinity with animals, while Caleb was strong and quickly started working at an early age.

Caleb worked hard to be a good boy. He wanted to make his father proud, so he brought the little money he could into the house. Dave also wanted to impress father, so he had picked up a fresh dog poop off the side of the road to place it in his father’s tea.

Father had no respect for Caleb’s earnings. He didn’t like Caleb one bit and used to beat him to a bloody pulp every chance he got. And with time Caleb’s countenance hardened and he became a very angry young man.

One day father asked Caleb why was his son such a sulking little weakling.
“If you don’t man up right this second, I will beat your sorry chin to the ground and I will make you get the largest stick you can find from the forest, so that I can break it in two on your head,” father told Caleb.
“You better be a man and keep your stupid little sulk inside and carry it, or else!”

One day Caleb and Dave took the rowboat to the river. Soon they had a quarrel and Caleb punched Dave right in the nose. Dave started crying as blood gushed out of his nostrils. Dave tried to spit and wash the blood off, while greedily splashing the water from the river to his face.

Caleb saw the river turn red and it made him sick –Dave made him sick. So Caleb decided to be devious. He tied the boat to his brother’s leg unnoticed. Then Caleb told Dave that he’ll see him in hell and took one oar and thrashed at the boat until it sunk.

Once Caleb had swum to the shore his father was waiting for the boys at the road. He asked Caleb where was Dave and why was he wet. Caleb said he didn’t know where Dave was, as Dave had pushed him off the rowboat before rowing off.

“What have you done?” said father to Caleb in a fit of rage, “I know your brother’s blood is on your hands! Curse you! Curse you, you vile child! Once I catch you I will cut off your hands and cut off your legs, so that you can’t do anything useful with your life!”

Now Caleb was running away from home just like his parents had done before he was born. He was to be a fugitive and a vagabond, no one could know why he was forced to such a life. He swore no one would ever know his dark secret. The greatest punishment for Caleb was his own existence, but in truth he was afraid of death and hid his face from the crowds to work silently in the shadows.

He traveled sixteen long arduous years, across the country until he was an even stronger and larger man. His strength was seven-fold, though his pain remained unbearable.

By now he had met a girl. She was pretty and he knew her well, inside and out. Soon she bore Caleb a son who was to be named John. And that day Caleb decided he wouldn’t travel anymore, but settle down to make a decent living for his family.

Little did Caleb know that his wife was the kid sister that his mother was expecting at the time of Dave’s death.

John was born very special and John passed his quirk through many generations, until nothing but Lament was born.

Lament was born lame, but he still decided to have two wives, which wasn’t customary or legal at the time. The two were called Hellen and Fatty Mama, both beautiful specimens of the human species. Talented to meet each of Lament’s expectations –none of which were too special.

Hellen gave Lament a child called Joe, who was to become the father of all hobos and the patron saint of social reclusion. Soon Hellen bore another child called Jimm, he became a rockstar and never contacted his family ever again.

Lament kept Fatty Mama busy as well, and soon the family grew even larger. Trouble and his sister Candy were born. They were never up to any good and Lament grew weary, so he gathered his wives together for dinner one solemn night.

“Hellen and Fatty Mama, hear me now for you are my women, my property” Lament spoke.
“I have heard many stories of my great great grandfather Caleb, who ran away from home for reasons of his own. Sometimes I think he killed a man to bring us this family of ours and as I see my remaining children grow up to be cheap harlots and swindlers, I sometimes think I am to suffer for his sins over seventy-seven times over.”

So Lament spoke long with his wives, taking the matter slow and heart to heart. And early next morning they all sailed away to life everlasting. Never to be loved or forgiven by anyone.

The End

Poem: Coin Street

Pawn shop dry cleaning,
Coin street
the piss be streaming,
The arduous battle for
Shall remain on the saddle
of working life comes to a quick
torn end.

Born to do an honest job
like a human being,
but reduced:
sweating like a kosher meat
before these heavenly trials of judgement,
and defeat.

Butchered like a back alley dog
that ate a banana once a month,
and drank tap water
twice a day.

He put on his Sunday shoes,
cologne to keep away smelly blues,
tried to save his nose from those awful hues.


Now I come in if I may,
to his house with my broken arm,
complaining about how my left leg
is shorter than the right.

I had no bread to bring to him,
except my company,
may it work like the flesh of saints,
oblatum to him.

These two fifty bucks
won’t save me for long, and
neither will he.

Losing touch

“Wake up in the morning n’ look at my cock. It’s all shriveled and cannot get hard no. Tell me, where did I go wrong, must be I’m getting way old.”

I was reminiscing one of my favorite songs today and I thought this parody of it up. Props to those who can recognize the song.

“I go find me my meds, no other thing to do. Take me a walk, but my knees they ain’t no good. Tell me, where did I go wrong, must be osteoporosis the heart of this song.”

With age I have lost my touch with maturity. Sometimes I fear what I’ll find funny later in life. I have started to like some really odd slapstick the peak of all

“My head fumes like a chimney, the kids make noise. Got a hearing aid of dreams, I turn it off in my blues. Tell me, where have I gone wrong? Ain’t nuttin’ going right with me, I’ve been peeing blood too long.”

The rest of the song was about saggy old woman tits that hang around the knees.

Flash Fiction: I was an Old Man

I was an Old Man
by Miki Korhonen

This is the first time I try to turn a dream into a short story. I tried to catch the theme and the feeling of the dream into a story of under 1000 words. It’s a story about an old man and it begins with a dinner party and it ends with a popping sound.

P.S. If anyone reading this story know how to interpret dreams, I’d love to hear what you’d reckon this all means.

I had seen myself in the mirror for the first time in ages, my hair was turning gray and I was growing old. I never thought that time would slip me so fast. All those years gone by felt like a matter of minutes.

At least I was home and I was surrounded by the few friends I had managed to keep through the years. On the couch sat John and Lori, I sat with my wife on the arm chairs. We were separated by a glass table with a few glasses of cognac. I had finished mine. We were playing charades and having a good ol’ time. 

The apartment was moderately large and lavishly decorated. Golden beige drapes, tall windows and a small balcony. I had lived here with my wife for years. There was a dust storm outside and nothing could be seen through the windows, but inside we were comfortable.

I knew John from long back. Long ago we had discovered something we shouldn’t have. I’d rather not get into it, but it was a hell on Earth, known as **** ********. The most vile human experiments happened there. A facility run by demons in human form. We told the story and managed to shut the place down. I was still young then.

John and I never spoke of those days. I know I am right when I speak for him saying that we were spared by grace. Jesus, fate had mercy on us poor sods!

No matter, it was just one of the many havens of evil in the world, but nothing turned out any better. A few interviews and people lost interest, they forgot the whole place existed.  I know I did right with John, but sometimes I feel that it didn’t matter squat. The world managed to ruin itself anyway. At least I was old and wouldn’t need to worry about anything for too long.

Anthony came from the kitchen with some appetizers –ten oily bruschettas with raw Italian pork. Lori ate them all leaving one for John, my wife and I to share. I didn’t like Lori, but she was good friends with my wife and John didn’t mind her. Lori never had any fashion sense and she had her odd mannerisms that always drove me up a wall. Today she was hungry.

We all had a good ol’ time. Truly. Time flew as we joked and talked about boring old people things, things that were exciting for us now. And soon it was time to go to bed. John and Lori decided to have one more drink on the couch. They knew where the guest rooms were.

My wife fell asleep straight away with a smile on her face. I decided to read a book. For a good while I flipped pages until I saw a picture of a monster in between the pages. I woke my wife up by nudging her and she had the face of the same monster from the book.

She attacked me trying to bite me with her small clear fangs. I tried to talk sense into her, but it was no use. I wasn’t as strong as I used to be and I felt my arms weakening. Her gaping mouth coming closer inch by inch. I decided to dodge her and I locked her in the bedroom.

I stumbled into the living room to tell John, but I was greeted by Lori’s monstrously gleaming eyes. Both John and Lori started to dash at me by awkwardly climbing over the glass table. Lori fell through, but John managed to get on one of the armchairs. I turned to warn Anthony.

Anthony was washing the dishes in the kitchen. He was normal and he saw I was shocked. With a worried face he came at me and I knew John and Lori were closing in. I told Anthony to shut the kitchen door and that the apartment was filled with monsters. He didn’t heed my warning and kept coming at me. I told him to get back in the kitchen before it’s too late as I ran back into the living room.

I saw John and Lori extend their elongated arms towards me. I jumped into the fire place and shut the small iron doors. I was safe for now, but Anthony had come into the living room and unaware of danger he was tackled down. John and Lori ate him up like the spaghetti in Lady and the Tramp.

I gasped for breath and looked on in fear. I started crying for I thought that I had left the horrors of hell behind me. It was just like back in **** ********. I had hoped that I’d die of natural causes, for God’s sake, I was too old for this.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I wasn’t in the fire place anymore. I was in a dark shower room. I recognized this ungodly place, the stench of anguish was horridly familiar. I was back in **** ********.

Questions filled my mind, had I ever escaped? Nothing had changed. I couldn’t breathe for I was too afraid. I wished I had never been born. The shadows started to move and I knew they were reaching out at me. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t scream.

I had died of an aneurysm inside the fire place. My brain had gone

The End

Spooky Poetry: Demon-woman

A spooky and disturbing poem about a man who faces a ghoulish fate!
I hope it makes you all feel as sick and disgusted as it made me.

Hark woman,
Do not promenade through the night,
for I begin to grow weary of your vanity,
And it would be most splendid if you’d choose
to stay out of sight.

Your dress looks so floozy,
The wind could strip you naked
with just a quick, swift gust of wind.
o, it makes my body feel sick
and my sanity evermore fleeting.

You are guilty like a demon,
You fill me with doubt,
n’ scare me out of my wits.
I can feel it in my guts; I see
Your flimsy legs take the form of hooves.

Hark woman,
I think you are the death of me,
Your eyes they are so deep,
they remind me of the abyss.
God save my remorseful heart.

O woman,
I can see your claws
as they rip through me,
I can see your devil teeth,
While you devour with glee.

I could not be saved,
I should have run
the very night I saw your gaze
your eyes of blood,
all unfazed by God’s torture.