BIG POWER (a poem in lirumlarum)

Ruumiit tippuu katolt’ alas,
sukeltaen sukeltavat
ihan kuin miekkavalaat

Lapset katsoo telkkarii,
löytää netist ystävii
ja syövät sateenkaaria

Olen syvään uneksinut
maailman kataluudesta.
En tiedä viisastunko vai en,
ken tietää tuollaisen.

Savimaja hikipaja
rahaa tulee aiva sama
huorataan kaikki nyt.

Sama tuoksu uusi hinta
lattiassa sama pinta
ihminen on verilettu.

Olen syvään uneksinut
kauneudesta kauneudesta.
En tiedä viisastunko vai en,
suutu ei mun ruusunen.

Kauppasissi, fatalisti,
transsi, farssi,
klarinettimurha,
sikamies, mikä mies,
uusi lies’, tuhontie,
valkotakki, taskumatti,
krapula, satula,
maanantai, sunnuntai,
yö-työ sut syö,
olen pelkkä paimenkoira.

Olen syvään uneksinut,
vain sinusta.

 

This was originally written by me in Japanese, so I don’t give a damn if it’s only in Finnish. Use the tools given to you by our overlord. The translation it offers is exactly the way I want the world to read it. Go raibh maith agat!

August hides in a tinderbox somewhere,
because the girls of spring can’t be found,
so kindle your cinders
and kiss me goodnight, Lucinda!

July is a haven of unmistakable splendor,
I know all the pope’s ministers would agree,
so with your smile big and bright,
o kiss me goodnight, Lucinda!

June sways so gently in the arms of summer,
it’s golden like a fable when drunk on black label
and we danced to music, so soothing n’ amusing
now kiss me goodnight, Lucinda!

A year’s gone by maybe more this May,
the lips of the sun couldn’t compare to your stay,
there’s only one time when the flowers bloom right,
and now they’re somewhere with Lucinda!

All summers beget Lucinda!
All the world covets for Lucinda!
All my dreams are made of Lucinda!

Cremation Phoenix

A dream of death cannot be seen before you die!

Listen to the truth in these roots of gospel sound,
The clogged minds rust under simian cries
Venereal disease flogging this Jesus carcass
Oh Christ is weeping through our olden times
The virtue of horror, terror, terror, horror

Sleepless and burned lay barren each idealistic lie.

Cremation phoenix, cremation phoenix
The smoke and ash all satisfy
with the evil so rampant we’re petrified,
I lock my doors with long lush hair
Oh Christ, Oh Christ
contracted disease that just ain’t there
flogging the Jesus carcass carcass carcass

I say, the Cremation phoenix is coming down
She’s here to take Christ out of our Jesus carcass,
hollering bail me out, bail me out of this hell Leviathan!

Seventh Serenade: The Story behind the Six String Switchblade

This is the seventh serenade
that got stranded on this earth:

I’ll put a ring on that finger
like knife to your side
as my love will streamline
past your ubiquitous eyes.

A serenade for the weak,
for the meek who are fighting,
this is the seventh serenade
that got sold without worth.

The seventh serenade
to have died in the dirt.

Sicko’it

I’m sick of this polka parisienne
that all trapped songbirds sing,
but why complain when the sounds
that I crave aren’t even audible,
how could I listen to words through metal bars
if I cannot stop and think in my time of living.

I watch film snippets with familiar faces,
they make me think of home, but something is missing
The motion lacks life, depraved of emotion
it lives, yet not within me, but in hopes.
I have lost the touch of that reality
and as the credits roll I suffer of a saudade
that I didn’t know that existed.

In the film,
I watch souls escape modernity into nearby forests,
they’re poets, artists, singers and songwriters,
It’s in the woods that they love where they feel at home,
whilst I like to fear death and breathe through concrete
–my home was built around looting and riots where the worst of humanity
sadly comes to light.

When I am with the world,
I listen –eyes closed–
There’s a gentle whisper in the breeze:
“Sick of it, sickovit, sicko’it.”

Undesirable

When the horrors of alcohol psychosis make for a bearable life
I grind my teeth at night and converse with pink elephant mansions
with beautiful bell towers, immaculate architecture
While outside faces blank people crave for altruistic egocentrism
I roam hallucinatory dream worlds in my sleep
And wake up an undesirable

Struggling to bring calm to the self
I sway with the winds of the 21st Century
The destruction I see around me I commit on myself
and take part in the decay of a culture,
I become a violent descent to abandon
with my fists flailing wild, ecstatic

I question the sincerity of the very air
that murders us by night
and the stories we feed each other
about being pretty individuals,
for when the day is done we have ripped
all good souls to shreds

But who am I to wag a finger
I am an undesirable.

Love Poem #1

Your vines grew like mavericks
how slow they embraced
As I removed the green needles
while slumber I faced.

When you knocked on my shoulder
in heart we grew older,
but ill health made me fragile
too disturbed and senile.
The last things you said
–disappeared without a trace.

Youth is mere borrowed time,
there is no storm to stay
I’ll weep up in heaven
when you fade to gray.

And the hours that were golden, flew off
with chariots –now stolen
While the lost nurtured Meadows
who lay deep in the ocean
With their gentle eyes wide open, they
proceeded on with the wake.

I was a coward in hiding,
trodden and homeless, I
should have bought you bright flowers
–instead you–
–brought me white posies
and laid them by my side.

…
“There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

Rumbo to Eternity

I told you in my dream: that today
We set the rumbo to eternity
–which way to go?
Oh, I don’t know–

Where does eternity lie?
Set the rhythm and we’ll get to it,
encompassed by entropy
moving free like air made solid,
we’re a breeze in motion

forward, back
get up, no –go down!

Keep still and don’t melt
for our humanity ain’t a syphilitic typhoon,
though we may prop our chins ugly faced
we don’t have to be –ridiculous

Let’s stay gentle,
like a candle that is about to start a fire,
we are ablaze in eternity
and frozen in comfort

Where is Eternity?
For it sure ain’t in me
–is it in you?

Does it flow through your muscles?
Does it crackle in your brain?
O’,it does!
and I can see it clearly:

I sense it in your speech,
In your pupils, nostrils
and even your tonsils
–though they may be removed,
they still move through you,
continuous in existence
in this world visioned through trash can goggles
that are covered in rotten smut

I speak to your image in the mirror
–I speak to who? Me!?
And I realize that our words are trapped
between dimensions of looking-glass
Perhaps they found what we failed to grasp–
–Perhaps they did find what’s still left of Eternity

No one cries on bended knee

She hides a shank
She hides a shank
Heed my word, she hides a shank

My good, good wife carries a murderous knife
hidden between the layers of her short dress
She’s showing off her thighs and pretty legs
as she navigates the dance floor of a nightclub called Paradise
She moves swiftly with grace, eyes deep and set
on this girl I took the pleasure of committing acts of debauchery with just last week

O my wife’s fiery gaze was filled with despise
Filled with bloody murder, filled with bloody murder
And her furious stride only spoke of the poor slut’s demise

No tears–
No more tears, my wife said to herself
She said, I’m gonna cut down that wrecker
Gonna chib the very smile off her pretty face
She spoke to the mirror with her sad maddened mind

Let me tell you the story of last week and my precious harlot,
and how I went running around town,
Yeah, saw her standing by a bar
And my friends told me she only frowned
That she was abandoned by her mother
And never loved by her father
So now she only moves her pretty lips around
They say she was left by the creek
as a babe in a basket
They say she was almost dead
when some whore at a whorehouse
took on work as a saint
by taking the poor child into her loveless arms

But now she’s gonna die
Nobody leaves this world alive
Not even saints leave this world alive
So LORD have mercy on a sinner,
Have mercy on us all

My wife drew the hidden blade
and sunk it deep into her victims eye
The frowning victim’s eye
My good, good wife repeatedly stabbed her dying body
each puncture full of answered prayer
and guiltless serenity

No one cries on bended knee
No one cries on bended knee

I stood frozen
Horrified at the scene,
the carnage that covered these women
the crime of passion, and of love
My good wife declared all this was for me
Like a golden gift for nobody–

She hides a shank
She hides a shank

And none shall weep on this brand new morning
Even if the night ran red filled with torture
No suffering, there shall be no more suffering now
For the innocent lay bare and dead

No one cries on bended knee
No one cries on bended knee

Oral Maneuvers

ORAL MANEUVERS
LICK IT LIKE A LOLLIPOP

ORAL MANEUVERS
I LIKE IT SOFT TO THE TOUCH

ORAL MANEUVERS
EAT SOME ICE CREAM FROM MY A-HOLE

ORAL MANEUVERS
IT’S LIKE FLYING SOLO

ORAL MANEUVERS
TOOTHPASTE PROPHYLAXIS

ORAL MANEUVERS
I THINK MY MOUTH IS ROTTING

ORAL MANEUVERS
THE DOCTOR SAYS I’M DYING

ORAL MANEUVERS
I CAUGHT A ZOMBIE VIRUS

ORAL MANEUVERS
I’m a zombie
You’re my candy
I would love your milky body

I would tongue
all your glands,
your intestines and future plans

ORAL MANEUVERS
IN THIS APOCALYPTIC CITY

ORAL MANEUVERS
INTESTINES ARE A TREAT

ORAL MANEUVERS
MIGHT NOT BE WHAT YOU THINK