contemporary thoughts, 2017
FOREVER TEMPORARY â€“ Contemporary thoughts, 2017 As told, written, illustrated by Nikodeemus Toukola tel. +358 44 208 32 38
FOREWORDS I have known Jules for a longer time than I can imagine and still keep wondering his patience when our friendship has become more of a union. I have shared most of his joys and sorrows of despair moments. Everytime - there. Rational romantics are the killing kind and that is the partial reason for this loose-tooth essence of charisma. A natural child, so very pure inside the torment that has always been here. I have never met anybody who could pull this kind of emotion when one is executing his own character. And despite several major set-backs, would still continue to do so. He is not only an artist, but something else. A much more something else: A modern renaissance human - a glance for a better future. M. Dark, HelsingissĂ¤, 24.03.2017
BONFIRE OF VANITY 4th day, 9 packs of cigarettes, what a merit to carry. Bye-bye characters sing the song of their people, like wolves without the moon, they howl, pick every lock there is deep inside the mind. Yet again I am hurt by that laughter. Unprofessionality and Jante’s law. This time there is stake more then just losing my face; that I could always handle, that is something I am used to. When honour and honesty are at the farside of the world this “safe place” turns into a living hell. Small piece of summer breeze, that is all, as you were - and so on. For months I have waited that years would pass by. Days I have sat at the dungheap, waiting that I would find my place. Kept waiting. Sitting and waiting. I lost Tinka during that spring, eventually I guess all markers pointed towards to that. And I just wish, if there would be a way to open your head to another person, “Look, see, now you can look, with or without permission.” “See?” Even though you try to pull out the skin off, it does not peal. Never. Something that broke somewhere deep inside years ago will never be healed and can not be fixed. If you ever stared inside the eye of a madman and you understand what the sosiopathic glance means, you will definately understand the meaning of it, at least when it is time for the end-game.
LOSING MY FACE AND “THEIR” NAMES On an occasion there can be only one, mold casts only those that are fit, leftovers? They are carved to fit. Even by force. Crowd by none. I could never see myself as it is commonly approved. The one time I streched my arm to somewhere far my voice dissapeared, or removed. Not sure anymore. All those times. The flame kept burning through ember, once bright again, burned down as fast you could say “Cats in the cradle.”
THE MOST DANGEROUS PROFESSION OF THE WORLD Misunderstood human. Well, that could even mean almost anything. In worst case scenario a unit could become almost anything - without restrictions. It moves, with the power of thought. Hidden. Waiting like pure. Thought of that is beautiful. Slow-minded gardener cares the best, The Cutter is reserved for others, even the world needs everyone and I presume we are many. As I wonder deep inside myself, I forgot the winter. Nevertheless I survived and spring came. I was already dead. Gutted. Blue star and Space geese kept me going. Alas, the thought of losing everything achieved that I created. This time. NO. I would rather die. I was returned to a place that holds memories, memories that hurt more then thousand years. Crystal clear stagnant water has a silhouette, it changes the shades according seasons. Is the mountain gentle? “No I believe not.” I believe no one is gentle after a aeon of being still. From the beginning of time. Is the Lava necessary? Why do they mold us from natural state to something that is unnatural? Why can you not hear the despair or grief when it is necessary? Those people that have nothing. “Trough the filter”. Noything more. The moonless night lit the travelers. Only bobcats smiled in a way that they can. Without any expressions, but saying everything.
(UNKNOWN ERROR) When the pull-up is over and cleverness is long gone trade. A human is left so alone and ways of what? Because the teaching and idealogy of certain era can be a certain weakness. Drowning in the shadows and everything taught does not apply anymore, rules change or they are made as we speak. In real time.
The high Priestess of Moral kept me in her grip and everything foretold is still just an excuse. You can always smell the despair miles away and the character within character does not count as loneliness - It is the truth. It matters though what the other does when it contaminates the weaker person, and that is a whole new story.
MORE THEN ONE LIGHTS The most important room in Rome was inside the Melted Heart. The smallest one, like embryo. Others were important as always, but as the silent readin became more common, the path to the smallest one just vanished. Almost forgotten. If you have a place in your mind that brings comfort, you can be certain, there will be people that will poison it. Will and trade are different things. Even a smallest dent can shake it to Richters scale. It is hard to define the Golden road in the middle as the class differences change to invisible. Vice, virtue and love, like math meant one time something very different. Grains of sand in testubes, small drops at exoplanets - the world needs stories.
THE JOURNEY OF A SNAIL (POUR R.D) According the new future Studybook of New Zealand(The first batch); Furry snails were the last known species, that people noticed the unreversable change in ecosystem in stratosfar(they all talked about climate, but the problem was much higher). The productivity of the slime stopped and no one saw that coming, they move so slow presumably. The average speed for Furry snail was 1.5 times relatively to others and their natural territory was silent times infinity. Doeble tested experiments were made after the transmutation tests where they tried fodder made out of simulated earwax to the whole ecosystem. The final results were inevitable and made the most experienced scientist shiver with the power of Swedish forehead slap. Something needed to be
ROMANCE Is exposed image where they dig up the smiles with software. Love is open smile after the endurance is non-existing. Death is timeless sentences in a dark water, where no one has to fear when diving. For many times I have looked the broken mirror, lost myself to many paintings. Shook hands with shadows. But when the winter my head got soften like ice in the spring time, even though it was just the beginning. I keep your image on the smae place as the rest of the secrets. A black small book that hold deary close to my heart. It does not protect from bullets, but keeps wind for a while - if necessary.
A mild life long path. Always visible, tasteless one could say, odorless and transparent. Outlines randomly scattered, not everyone can see it, but are forced to believe - the map tells us so. “Therefore it must be so.” The greatest threat present withers butterflies back to cocoon. We all cast a shadow, if nothing else. “Is that how important we are?” The freedom of self-expression is suffocated traditions to children that live on winks and butterfly kisses of all times.
THE LAST PUSH OF THE WEARY ONE
I am afraid to death this tight room that is so vast that I still am able to fly. Behind the corner haunts the faceless “something”, “it” that evens up the lifes malformations like a rounded grinded tool, those abnormalities that should be just as they come.
Just like mountains. I am a bit younger. 487 years. Always been here. Always ready to leave. Always ready to help. Never ready. The scale of eternity is the courage. Profanity to something that is deeper the life creates envy, that Scandinavian envy. I closed my eyes when made foretold the last time. I saw my own ship, That Ship. The colour of yellow. Reality Now? Not so pleasant sun and the henchmen underneath it. INvisible shackles that burst the last pice of hope through the chest. I have never heard crying cheese talking, but after a days journey you can be certain that your feet smell, with or without shoes.
TIMELESS BEAUTY Is like spark from brimstone. When it smiles and chuckles pure laughter. You can dive inside every wrinkle and river of the age. Lose yourself and find yourself. And again. Every day.
MASTER OF MY CONSCIENCE Hey Mister Hello. From one hell to another. No, it does not bother me. I will promise to rip myself open again, when the time comes. We still have time. Probably. At least few hours. Because I used my time today twice, are you sure it wise to put mental punch clock inside me? Do you really want to set up borders inside my mind? A democracy or monarchy? Even the leviation limit would be rationalized. Is that you really want? Seatrocasy is a long gone idea. Currency comes as a happy pill- Is that what you want?
A man Is an island. Hay to the donkeys, come now and already kill me. At least be quiet at that time.
THREADS IN HEAD Believe my story as I tell it. There is more force in the beard - if you grew it by yourself. Cut the braid, seal the other end and voila: Superstition is back again. “Hello old friend.” We marked each other a long time ago, by accident. Chance reaps the harvest with the second cycle now. Threads in its head are because that made-up brawl with one-eyed God. I bit, I kicked and fought - and I hate myself that. Forced.That part I have shooked away from myself. Two out of five, not bad result if you think of 38 hour cycles. I take back the lost time with a cigarette, I try not to despise. You would not recognaize me after all these years, because You as well are my partner in crime. Roaming ocean, as it always will be. We join, we part, we are - just - like - mountains.
A LONG TIME AGO I once told you something beautiful. Even through the current fumes, I remember it. I really need you now, because we remember differently. The path for two is a bargain with destiny, no direction, only calling maybe, if one would believe in such. I think about my madness everyday. The illusion never broke. I don’t think even hard-headed would forget. The burden sometimes, is just too big to carry and some people enjoy eating other peoples lunches. The shackles are now gone. Masts are broken. I will cut them even smaller. Make toothpicks out of them and exchange the into dublons at the harbour of Marseille. A modern version how cat really got the vest.
Like pendulum, I feel its swings just by waiting. I want to scream, kick, laugh and cry it away. That homesickness. When the world changes to spring but you realise it is now evening.
7 SIGHS And toally different world. I learnt that trade by myself and with a little help from my friends. Time-out of life, if one would use that kind of phrase. That concludes in one sentence my dislike for sports. Effort with productivity, gambling and “don’t choke shouts.” they usually creates nothing positive, nothing that lasts anyway. Ja aivan oma maailma. Opin sen itse, ja ystävien avulla. Elämän jatkoaika, jos niin voi sanoa. Jälkimmäinen on kiteytettynä, miksi en pidä urheilusta. Liika suoritus ja tulostavoitteisuus, rahapelit ja don’t choke-lausahdukset, eivät yleensä tuo muassaan mitään positiivista.
THE LAST DAY OF LIFE If you knew it would be. I would still try to sleep well.
THE POWER OF DREAMS Winning a lottery inside the dream is millionares death. There are various types of winning. I searched the couon despirately, knowing that I would find it. Only to realise the ticket was not accepted. Pieces of it were valid. That is the reflection of this place, a negative ion that is not given any chance. The mirror appears at night, volumes up in early morning. Two hours to coffee. Concistency is not a virtue of this place - only dystopic use of power. Do you want me to repeat it?
LAST BEACON Sheds always light. There should be one always, just light that. Colour does vary, differing upon the moonless night. When one carries the burden as it has always been like that. Modern torture is door locked. Gatekeeper with dozy grin. Pills that help you sleep, others that pep you up. Food. Sleep. Food. Sleep. Meds. No privacy. Nothing to rely on. Memories fade, emotions go flat line. One actress at least is trying, I just find it difficult to talk about my interests with them, they are not my friends. They are not my colleagues. They are not my family and I seem to be in the middle of Nowhere. My journey started decades ago. That is where my happiness comes from. Seeker. Mapmaker. Times like this would be easier to believe in God. And as said before, if there would be one force behind all this, I would punch it without questioning, and I know he or she is just used to it.
MENTAL ILLNESS VS. FAVOURITE SYMPTOMS Worst case scenario is that I am already dead. The warmth inside my chest few weeks ago was just the defibrillator kicking in. No Piaf in sight. Nowhere path to be found. Path is formed after three or more people. Road is ready when unnatural travels through it. Hide and seek is not valid anymore. I would just like to find my home. This is how lost I have always been. When you know habits, it is easy to play person out. Personalized feed.
Hijacked pirate and you are forced into a caricature. Men and their alpha-behaviour. I really miss my cave. I miss France. The only reason I was left was this trauma from this current place. Something that never healed. I wanted to be at least someone even Nowhere. Just for a second, but I found you.
ÜBER-HELL Is not stupid questions, not every day conversations nor silent moments. Super-Hell is the combination of all these. Last circle is when you can not trust the authority or every new person you would meet. Privacy lost in a blink of an eye, systematic deviousness. Numbness and stalling which includes personal interest of a stranger.
COOLING DOWN I try to stay hopeful and strong. I have noticed now how the loneliness dug me into an empty shell. With great power comes with great responsibility. That is very true. I burst. I split. Into parts unknown. Like the mountain my lungs are finally clear. How dark I have travelled. Freedom. That is the common goal, something that is not achieved with fists. “When is it okay to tremble the ground?” “When is it okay to be human?” Moving images in my body It moves forward. Dream. So very beautiful just for a moment, reality is a harsh mistress. Aching homesickness, every moment more and expanding. Ache for a another human. Own pillow. Promise of a better. Love for oneself, another and to a worlds that should be for everyone. It smokes, it smoulders with a slow flame.
FIGHT FOR NEW DAWNS Curse, damnation, death, gift and love. Pitch black person, who still walks. Passes the temptations of needles - sometimes it was too close. Appreciates smiles, honesty, twisted like a old branch in a decayed wood. Pure as the rocky pond filled with perches. You can feel the vibration in the bedrock even. That is how mountains speak. The hum of eternity. They made new names to things. It did not change things to one way or another. Something stayed there, that something that was already broken. That is how addictions are made, and that is what the merchants of death know. The glow of great joy was present. That monster loneliness never leaves. It is there. “Dare to look?” I want to exit this room now. I scream. I write. I draw. I cry. Hopefully not for nothing.
THE COCOON BREAKS It is smaller then quark, and a kind one also. Its abilities are hidden. “Just ask friendly. It will answer, pretty sure about it.” When it is surrounded by emptiness, it becomes sad and angry for the noises that were not invited. “Go away.” The quark says. “Go away.” A much more louder voice. “His sould is broken.”
FIRST CHAPTER OF DOOM Longing image of disturbance. We dance and forget. The laughter hurts, it stings, it crushes. No way out, no escape. Dim little light of mine, donâ€™t lose hope. Never ever lose that light. Anxiety is a by-product of livestock we seem to be. Running on invisible leash without teeth, eventually. My hopes and dreams die, the moment you walk away. Locked up words in a cage unimaginable. If you wish to hurt me, please do it already. Loose rope, is a loose trap. Shadow like two-dimensional cube. The line it draws lasts only seconds. Just like us. Torture. Nothing more. Nevermore. One day they will quote something and then you feel the tears that already were there.
ADAPTATION On the third day after the cancelation I was thrilled to see the new-born. Noise, just noise. Colours. Not primary, evolution. Habits and sayings. I wish this for no-one. Last scene is the end-game. No privacy, no mention of singularity. Mirror sheds tears already. Broken. Sing with that loud voice of yours - be the change. Dualism is tricky. Listen, learn and fly. That is the blade. Please strike it, save nothing and look me into the eyes. Depth of a bottomless pit. Infinity.
LOGIC OF GUNS Is a wish of transformation of certain kind of external cruelty. Animals feel wind, even in the deepest desert. Wishful thinking was long gone before we could even speak. Red lights come as they go. Me? Always left on the station. No. I will not shine your shoes. I will keep walking to the next station. Bare-footed or not. At least the path is my own.
Like a wind whistles the bullet, tracks nowhere to be seen. Take a deep breath and dive
EVOLUTION OF GOODBYE Never easy, always hard. Illusion to trick our mind. Imprint of a moment to ease up in times of despair. Glimpse of light in a shadow part of life, shady moment in times of glory and gaze. Black as pure light, properly scratched - forever.
PUSHING LIMITS Rusty clock goes slowly forward. Time can be measured in different times - different ways. On a shelf it sits accompanied with dust. Forgotten, lonesome, the dust does not mind. They are the symbiotic collective. Light sheds a visit few times a day. That makes three. In the evening, casting shadow is sharp. All four can be relieved by silent night. Embracing all to a slumber. Like a slow breeze and shades of blue. Void. The morning comes silently as well, friendly as the steady pace of rusty old clock. Another day full of possibilities. Patience my friend is a virtue, sometimes just a rule. And sometimes it is justified to bend a twine and sew a new pocket. Fit your dreams into a bag, see what matters the most. Despair is also friends with ecstasy and panic. If you look closely, you see them walking hand in hand, always somewhere and nowhere.
MADAGASCAR In my dreams fainted I was relieved. A crossroad, way forward. Space, one day. Oddball as always. Stains stay and there can be only one Pan, but shadows we share - all. Window seen as possibility, I feel the warm breeze in early spring evening. Recycled words, cut down thorns. Scars never heal, you just learn to tolerate the pain.
Rare occasions, rare events, make-belief of unique. Common tears that boys handle differently. Learning to be human, step by stairs and thank god for rail. Life-long journey has already begun before you realise it. And then again ends sometimes without happy ending. I would assume that one major plan would show a film of it and after that there would be small second to cry and even shout, I really need to see it again!
BLAZING THROUGH NUMBNESS Home is not always where the heart is. Controversy of harness I stand alone. I wish I could see the stars once more, but I remain here. Saw the old buildings, history repeats. The last baby bird left today, voulchers surround me up in the sky. It is worse then feeling something good or bad, it is the sensation of feeling nothing.
TAPESTRY Winding up, once more. Ever seen reverse in flesh? Steer the clouds. Smile towards green sky. Donâ€™t tell anyone or they will fuck you up. The bell rings somewhere faraway. Distant land always gave me hope. Honour like code, love as poor bargain. Survive, just survive - the voice says. That is what they are after. Hot morning on June, when you still feel the pain, even after years to come. The plot thickens, when you realise that how twisted the roots can be. Can a tree feel safe, if roots like maze stay intact? Ask a tree where it would like to travel or what it would like to see. Steer away.
PUZZLE CALLED LIFE Does not contain sometimes emotions. I once wrote if bird is in a Victorian era cage just for delight of sight, does the bird know or even
care how fancy the premises are? Hints are messed - if any. Voice roars inside like unified abyss of Djembe. Feeling stupid every minute. Counting every second - some people are like that. What happens in a museum of memories, does not need premise so white and sterile, where eventually the strongest one will collapse. My beacon consists the image of your smile. When you feel the itch near your eye - you know it might be me. Ears hear what they want sometimes, heart feels with every vein, sensation of liberty once more. Therefore I write, I scream. And never give up!
CLOWN FOR A LIFETIME Wooden crown in the olden days, meant something else then modern people recycling advertisement. Chicken for all. At least once a day. I feel the small petty pebbles between my toes. It has been a while. Unknown people babbling, my dome is open and shut at the same time. No hero should be quoted prematurely, ever. Never say you saw me with a feather. Hence, I am Nowhere, wilderness. I am wind after few weeks. This spring, it will be marked for something beautiful. One peaceful moment is cut by ravens voice. This time it is not after something that shimmers. Passing calm moment is gone. It just wants to hear your voice. One comes in double, pebble to the lake. Radiation of waves never moves, should it even stop. Silence once more.
BLACK HAND -DISINFECTION Paper inside the hole or hole in the paper? A multiple layered riddle, there are instructions on the foil, a rule, a suggestion or an order? They really would like to see me crack. Weekend brings perspective. Punch-clock and wooden legs make soft noise on the hallway. Almost that they both does not exist. The plant in the corner reminds us the presence of the system that feels no mercy if you wake up the bear. They happy play should continue, a human only has to ask the next dance. Nothing else. Modern slavery exists and has many forms and there will always be people with brown tongues. A sparrow in a pile of dun. Kitchen is already closed. Hyenas laugh and when your stomach is full it is more difficult to complain. I would rather take the option number 3.
ANGER Is not last autumn leaves left behind. It is the endless cry for being human on a situation, when something primal kicks in. You are not the whole world stumbling down the hill. A mountain. Splash, it is winter again. Keep your idioms and make new ones, something that would help people to achieve the full potential, and not just make them feel bad. So full of regulations, stupid rules. Even basic parenting involves coherent behaviour, here at black mask island they call it week-end not Friday. Duty calls. Leave behind. Blind. Eight-folded world and I am alone
WHAT YOU WISH FOR The Camembert society once long ago made a rule about wishing. No matter silent or outspoken wish. The prize would contain a price, no matter what it might be. Like all societies, they usually will crumble eventually. So did this particular one. Wishing stayed as fainted vague image. Some eras the habits like friendly giraffe put its head wide up. Price however, stayed as real as you can read this. First rule of written language - all fiction. Fifth rule of written language - all fiction. Pardonne-moi, I must feed my pigs again.
DISSAPOINTED Many times already. Those scars open here everytime. You realise how small you are, That puny something and there will be a bigger jester somewhere. Complainer and a bully. When you execute the bullying with rules - sadism takes on a new form. If I would a have a choice now: I would run. Run like hell. Until my lungs would explode. I would rather fall on ground, still crawling. I would claw my face off. I would close my eyes. That is how it feels to be human at this very moment.
MENTAL LOBOTOMY Who is to say about oddity, about being normal. Books remind me us and them. We now as first. I see the young ones abroad. Respect of history drives me deeper. Shoot me now. I really canâ€™t take it no more. Nothing to remind me of myself. Something I built the last decade. Why
someone can be so cruel to destroy everything before my decision. No privacy, nothing. Everything. My native language stings now as ice-pick. The friendly gnome that hits usually with hammer after few now has an axe. And a subconscious corpse bleeds, I still am, I still feel the stomping. Please do it now. I tried my best.
I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE Because this place turns me into something I wish to be not. My fear is that I would pass this kind of thinking forward without hesitation and that is something that is not negotiable.
DISGRACE OF A HUMAN BEING Last calls. Last something. First of something new. No more fears, when they all come at once. Showroom of isolation, only tube showing something to value. Lottery hoaxed, surveillance - constant. Values never change, I changed, but not the way they expected. Last of us. Nowhere. Nothing more. Ever.
HAZE It is easier to feel upon every disappointment that you deserve it. That is how people can be divided. This time, this time. It is not punishment - it is torture. Yet something tells me not to show weaknesses as boys don’t cry. “We seem to have a live one here.”
And the light goes out. Vacuum was intact, no more. It sizzles the last time. I know I am leaving. Traveling without soul, that is what they harvest. Early moon is common knowledge, but hides the honest pouched truth. Land for all. Tracks covered in snow. One last time. Maybe morning brings something unexpected. First bloom, first hug, first kiss from spring. After the first warm rain and you cry the last tear. Feel the embrace as it travels almost slower then time. Not alone.
COFFEE AND CIGARETTES Anxiety from reality. Soothed by mentioned substances. After a good amount of sleep, dreams that has no quantity. Enough already. You wake again to the world of stupid rules, guided by one earphones person and another nowhere to be seen. I am here. These are the rules. You are not home, a lot of people would do things at home. This is not my home, so why are you here? 1,1h until morning coffee. I manage, but I would rather share my thoughts with someone that cares.
CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE How to become normal? Lock the person in litter box, take all the things that brings joy. Make idiotic rules that sometimes are valid, sometimes not. Limit the amount of time outside, even though we all wait for spring and it has started. 4 summers was taken from me - now a spring. I guess being tree, a rootless tree even - is not allowed.
CALM BLUE MOMENTS 23
Bread crumbs on a table. It should make me happy. Hunger long gone. Decisions, difficulty - delirium. Man in the shadow. The sun greets this morning. Maybe rules are made by those, who think it is for the best for everybody. Rules are maintained by those who fear, rules, stupid rules are torture for those who suffer.
LAUGHING TOWARDS SUN How would Indian type Lol? Perhaps the weirdest totem would just appear somewhere. You wouldn’t have to even see it. The tales would live on how ridiculous it is. And the place, simple wave with hand towards direction could be enough and then dance with buffaloes and maybe good tears. Hug-Ugh-Muks.
HABITS Container of empty shells is a victory by seashore. Rocks that have been there aeons, smooth as solid touch. I didn’t cry a river, I screamed for the ocean. Old song weeps someone who stayed at the harbour. Me?
AND THEN I SLOWLY DIE Rights, obligations, duties. They want customers, inmates, sheeps and livestock. I am dozed off now, last strength I try to push something out. When I know I can’t get out. Like hidden speaker in the corner of my eye, I fear and loath. I yell for my freedom, unity and home. I wish, this would never happen to anyone after me. Time to die.
FINAL NOTICE As I write this final thought from country that should be the cradle of democracy, top notch education and human rights. I hear a fellow human being crying behind the glass doors. I see her, hear her, but I can not help her. Hug lasts only 15 seconds, after that it is weird. My days count now almost 12 now and already my succeeds include at least 20 packs of cigarettes and Benzedrine addiction. I am now political prisoner hidden behind bureaucracy. Crying does not help, neither this thing called treatment. Logic could go so, that if there is someone on clock on Sunday to condemn you this kind of torture, there should be also vice versa for that. People stumble at work, follow the rules, even though it makes no sense. There is no room for why. No number to call help. No God to turn to.
EXCUSE OF TRANQUILLITY Same songs. Everyday. Ear hurts for numbness. Eyes burn. The black thoughts are now somewhere very deep. I know how to find them. Soul eater. Re-runs and leftovers. At least something. Soothing glow, noise reduction, travel unplanned. Memories flow inside me reaching toes, fingers crossed. We marked each other to unity that no matter what, it will last forever. Binded. Folded. Repetition. What was it that you wanted to ask? What do you seek?
INVISIBLE CHARACTER MADE VISIBLE It sits next to me. Always has. Always will. I stopped being here yesterday. Again moment of clarity. I was never from here. Beyond stars reaching yearning for home. If not for me. For people after me. Joke goes something about pulling tongues, I forget how the rest of it goes, but I assume it did involve rectal probing and levitation. Imagine the border of near history of foreign land being transformed into modern allusion in poetry. Third big war is not fought with guns. It arrived already, and who would be the last to know. Lights out.
EASIER TO CRY Easier to hug when a man is wounded. Moment of despair knows no time. It sets a home like visitor that was never invited. It means no harm I guess but sure as hell it is not easy to witness its company. Sharks come flying into its stories, accompanied with mermaids so ugly that hair turns into white. That is how we grow. Some learn to respect time early ages. Others post-bone it endlessly. Like marionettes. Where are the scissors? The scaly one yelled, but still tried to maintain friendly tone on that request. Always on your side, Ms. Mr. Mrs. And a good day to you sir. Wherever you might lay your head. I, am Nowhere.
KEYHOLE 1 teaspoon of ginger 2 cubes of sugar Hot water Milk
ENDLESS RECORDING OF TORMENT Times of turbulence. Mind your head. Smile is just as important. Sour dogs appear, experiences are exchanged. Slowly, like cigarette burns your skin. Somethings canâ€™t be cured. That smart everyone should be.. Three frogs leaping. An acre aside the lake. Maybe, someday.
EMPTY GESTURES Full house lurks in deep river. No easy way out. Collection of timeline. Sweet nicotine. I say, nods, you say thanks, and I wonder. Free illusion after times to come. Greatest gesture. That is how the own voice is silent and disturbed. Say something pure, see the pigeons. They fly. Time after time. House always wins without a smile. Icy grin on the doorway - not my place. Pace yourself. Luck is a bargain, rare trade forever. Seekers follow. Hollow is full, once again. Hear the flapping on the tower. A man says, you shouldnâ€™t be here. Offers Easter egg. Hear the distant flapping, as the tower is no more.
MINDFULNESS Trough fog and dozy mirrors. Running trough. Passing by on a corner. Final touch, when the rules change. Colour changes with a ray that glares trough tiny cracks. No mirror is complete if it does not see the erosion of consumption. Thoughts change colours of socks. This does not help, but it elevates. Last breath of fire. It burns. Locked balcony, locked tap, lock everything up â€“ easier that way. Open pathway. It is coming. Grindstone, brimstone, wows. Different meanings, different times. See the sky, dome of children to come. Lay your head today peacefully. My love.
ICON OF ALL TIMES Misunderstood perception cured like animation. Total reflection, flow from ancient. Whips snap, as the caravan moves, escaping only few. Saved by many. Discount of freedom, not obligated. We are eventually left behind. The field in my mind. Spring from early days. Mosquitos never to be heard. Skin drips. End of sorrow as the leaves talk. They were already here. Always here.
TIN-FOIL-MASKED -DREAM When courage finally reaches the brain. Inner adrenaline is hidden strength. Heavy hand is free now. Captivated by looms of night. Sparks see what the toes can not feel. Even young ones realise the end is near, so they are filled with creativity. Much powerful then love, a rare trade. Tracks down measurements of time to come.
ILOISET ONNETTOMUUDET Tarvitsi onneton poika. Aleksis Silmä oli jo kuuden vanha, kun ymmärsi miten maailmasta kadotaan. Mikäli miljonäärin elämä olisi houkuttanut häntä, silinterihattu olisi keikkunut tuuheassa päässä jo kauan sitten. Tie jos pyytää kulkemaan, siihen on parempi vastata, tai joskus kalkki on niin karvasta, että siihen tukehtuu. Kyyhkysiä
FINDING EMPATHY Cold shower in tundra. No trees in sight, eye in the rocky cliff I found my deep insight. Falling down deeper. Eyes on price, simple wishes, complex thoughts. The weed keeps growing under abandoned hut porch. Two steps back, every time with a helmet. Everything turns black. Wise people guide somewhere deeper, no use for laughter. Bladder is full. The shame of thought. Ashamed human. That is how deep it goes when the forest starts. Bleeder goes first, neck hurts. Itch of a lifetime, I don’t want to startle you.
You appeared when I needed you. Ink stain on hand, track Somewhere past. Rocks on formation, waiting.
SOMETHING TO DO If I had a dream. It would be you.
(UNKNOWN ERROR) Olen väsynyt pelkäämään. Unessa kattohuoneisto, se ei ollut omaa unta. Samat valkoiset seinät, paikat vaihtuu. En uskalla kysyä edes enää milloin pääsen kotiin.
TWISTED ROAD Like serpentine it reaches the sky at hilltops. When you are above clouds, you can feel it in your stomach. Life should not be just black and white choices. I think it used to be, again surplus behaviour from one great war. Not anymore, not my child. This place keeps changing. People don’t. Why do am I kept hanging here? Silent sound wakes me up at night, Catch-22 of different kind. If these people are shadows, I can now see how vacation reflects to shades. Loud noises like hangover, that is how cornered I am.
MIND TRASH Taken, given, taken, given. No form. Just random people with primal archetype behaviour. If I had bunny ears now, they would be now either removed or just so short, that I fit in. When you temper someone’s mind, there is no daily base talks, no questions how do you see yourself then, if you don’t fit in. I asked today if they see me danger to myself or others -
no answer. All my life, past decade, the constant fear. Getting locked up here, even hint of this place and I remember the restrain harness, no soft room, only way to remember is to cut yourself. Honesty brings the most naive sheep person in you on top, and as I write this, I am afraid the first time I can move the way I want. Current fears - nurses, doctors, this asylum, going to sleep, refusing to take meds, waking up, stranded relationship to my child, safety, on-going stalking, reality that might be true, air vents, future, safety and the list could go on. The morning wiped away most bad feelings. But this bus is just full of negative bus-drivers instead of passengers. Gravity pulls the anti-smile almost to the ground. All aggressive noises and grunts make me feel uneasy. Like said before, Torture vs. Observing accompanied bullying is hell without expiration date.
RELATIVITY Seen above, easy quick judgements, like hasty turf on field. When crossroad sign asks you, should you even give a fuck. Lower shelf glass will break at the peak point of abnormal sound. Track the source and you feel safe just for a while. Big hand over smaller one, waiting, expectation, I just run. Not alone. Stalking is a by-product to cover up own mistakes. Sarcasm does not even compete the loath for people that set me up here. Hyenas downstairs like mockingbird in unknown cage. Two hours for meal. Toilet. Vomit. Cigarettes. I will report if someone asks me today anything else, then: â€œCan I switch the tv-channel?â€? That is how the mankind is divided. And always will be. Being part of
this, makes me shiver like new mirror without prints, grease stains and one thing that is totally missing is practised silly facial expressions while brushing teeth.
BENT RAIL On fine morning crossing a round-about barefooted as always I saw the gentleman’s tail. A man in the window thinks he saw something else. Whales gather as flock an I heard, no one knows why. What is the first thing that has always been here that you miss when it’s gone? Grass over concrete. Decades of future to come. His distance truly is infinity. Singularity is already here. How could you ever greet happily double-zero on a crowed lynch-mob?
WATCHING THE TIME WITH UNWANTED COMPANY(PAST TENSE) Waking up, when roommate pees on his bag. You try to ask why, hence it is 3 am. Because I can. That summer I just tried to draw. Every time I took my gears of trade out, he would repeat my actions like weird parrot who seemed to had too many bumps on a big house. Clogged toilet, there was something valuable I suppose. I don’t mind that. Not for me. Jobs would be proud to see the infinite loop in action already, but I guess every era is always some kind of repetition and always needs a monument.
MENTAL BRUISES I hitchhike to a bus that never comes. Without glasses I sign similar lights to stop, but it can be both - truck or a bus. Snowstorm appears Nowhere, I try to ring to someone. Battery dead, I estimate my hypothermia kicking in in 40 minutes. Five is give or take if the teacher is not watching. Obey, consume. Yell louder. Scream. No one knows you are here. Developers use sandbox, there is always the Chinese mirror-box. Duel has already started and I was never a betting man.
TRUST OF THE PASSING YEAR Got worthy grande finale. When mouth to mouth traditions could not be applied on this situation. So what is the so importantly different about me that everytime the trouble finds me? Dogs can smell the fear. A village miles away. The youth of my memories. A boy straight as an arrow is the red cloth always in the kingdom of one-eyed people - they are food. Empty dun barrell leaks to all the places even though the spring is far now. They have arrived.
COUSIN OF JESUS Is the greatest mystery of all time.
BEGINNING OF TIME My wish for future generation is peace and prosperity and one way ticket to space. Let me go. There is no Marvin here. All connected. Always on my mind, the sweet escape. Wish me well, don’t cry for me. I am long gone. You know that you can predict the future when outer forces slow you down. Thus it has always been. I am my own team. My world is open for those who need it. A moment of solitude, is more valuable the any free shitty meal you offer me.
THE CURTAINS OF ISHOWLATION They are closed for now. Between the shades you can see the reflection and see the familiar yellow. Family itself is not the law, but the window is. “How many times you have to use the universal distress code until no one listens?” Head rottens. Stories wither. Normal reaction I guess would be revenge, but I seek understandin even though I would be able for a cold meal. “Pull the trigger. Do it already!” I hate this place and with this date I curse it after me. Third step. I sit alone till the end of the beginning of time. Leaving a meal alone is weakness and depression. Flying thoughts is madness. Seeing imaginery things is plain weird. Ability to protect own pure thought is the greatest strength and trade you could imagine. It needs a diagnose and I will carry the mark the rest of my life. The henchmen could care less.
FOR THE HENCH-MEN My escape pod activated just in time of suffocating. Silent read-outs on odd console terminates the TOD. It is coming. Lifeline is cut. How do you close the surroundings? Class of â€˜79. Was always different. We lived something that is now executed in games. Patronizing intensive stalking is like white bread fresh in the oven. Someone sabotaged me last decade. Died three times, one close call. A scar from unfortunate events. My question will always remain, why didnâ€™t you finish it? Why?
TREES THAT HUM Silently dear, this is now grey zone. Imagine the borderless striped elephants. If you travel one day to my world, be aware, that you need to forget everything you once believed is and is not true. Follow the light inside you, no matter how hard they try to cover it. It will shine eventually. Forever more, they can repeat this, crack you up. Crush your noble thoughts. That, my friend is unnatural. Forever temporary. Nowhere plural forms. The sandbox was sometimes real. Draw, eat, sleep, shit, fuck, eat, sleep, meds, shit, pee. Fuck off from my head.
PAIR UP It easier to travel in hunger with company. How do you know it is for real, if everything is true. That there is no history, present or future. Chaotic mess where disorders follow diagnose and just some rules. Closed doors,
JÄLKISANAT After waited multiple clicks and springs I understood how open a person can be made. How fiction reflects our hopes and fears and how the self cencorship takes over when on scale weighs honesty. Thinking about the future lays on everyones shoulders. Unfortunately the truth is some peoples voice carries much further and different places. Ask and I will answer. Force me and I close up. Like hedgehogs - we don’t purr and we were always here and willfully about the realities we try to reach the next millenium. “I your stomach is full and you complain. It is likely that the faul play is not on you but the premise surrounding you could hold the flaw.” This too, is to be a human. N.M.M.T, 2017 ““Olettamus suuremmasta ajatuksesta, kantaa mustien päivien halki, nopeammin kuin ehtoo vaihtuu yöhön.” “Black as pure life, properly scratched - forever.” Ihmisen ajatuksia elämästä, kuolemasta ja kaikesta siltä väliltä.”
Thoughts as read as poems of a shattered mind.