Radical in the Open

Posted on by under humorous, non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

I met this omg_lol_wtf anglophile
her tits poetry, my nihilism my license to do things
with a twenty yrs old with a balloon in place where some of us
have shit like the frontal lobe
she was a radical in the open, practicing her aim
as well as her free speech
to make speech more free of meaning
bereft of purpose – bang bang mothafucka

so let’s discuss the financial situation
or what the gov’t did last week
or the way the 90s affected our society
or how punk’s not dead, just sleeping tight right now
or traffic or weather or sitcoms like we give a shit
or did I ever tell you about this one time
or to hell with it all
god above, I wanna make inroads
into you, baby
and get drunk and fuck and drink and rinse and repeat
not necessarily in this order

masturbation is the ultimate form of self-motivation
I got two thugs on the payroll
swinging at the end of my ropes I call arms
her ass a void of expectations
a boyhood fantasy

and that’s just how I roll
and that’s just how the money rolls in
and I don’t mix my drinks with purpose
and I don’t expect to start

A thing that happened

Posted on by under short stories, solemn

Coming from a bad day, walking towards another one.

In Kallio, I stepped into the metro. Sat down. A minute into it, my neck tickled. I put my hand up and brushed it.

Looking at my hand, there was a tiny little ladybug. Must’ve climbed aboard aboveground.

It had two black spots on its wings. At this moment, it escapes me what that means: if it means it was young, if it means it was male or female… or if it just means it had two black spots on its wings.

I cupped my fingers around the ladybug. Protected it for four stoplengths. Had I let it go, it might’ve lost its way back aboveground and perished in the attempt.

Cupping my hand and looking like some idiot, I climbed for open air at Kamppi. Walked outside and looked for the first birch I could find. Left the bug there safe n’ sound. On its own wings, it would never have flown that mile, emerged in a new place.

As I departed from the birch, my mission complete, a songline I used to cry to comes on in my headphones. And I head home.

In conclusion: perhaps life wins this round. Perhaps beneath it all, a point to it all patiently awaits.

May Dreamers Never Die

Posted on by under non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

A girl squats down, hem of her dress riding up
and the sun sees two patted knees
leans in to give them a kiss
She picks a stick of chalk
and draws a story on dark grey canvas
of Spanish asphalt
with the moral of the story being
that stories really need no morals

A boy leans forward, from deep pocket
and eye’s dark socket, produces a knife
and points it at Life herself
Lets the threat subside and begins
to carve
Promise of perseverance he dreams of
upon the bark of pine, as if it’ll last
“Thug life now N 4eva”

May they meet, may they be one from two
May they not merely live, but prosper
May dreamers never die

CMMNCTR

Posted on by under humorous, non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

I’m surrounded by NDAs
like cages telling me the whole world is a secret
that I cannot tell.
“Hey, it’s all gone swell.”
It’s all gone to hell: I could shout it from the rooftops
or buy the tower of Kelvedon Hatch to air it
and nobody’d care.

What I had for lunch falls under the Trade Secret Act of ’94
and if I’d tell you, I’d never work in this town again.
I’d lllluuuuv to never work in this town again.

I had sushi for lunch.

I don’t have dreamy eyes;
I’m just tired, is all.

I’m a living, breathing sleight of hand:
“quick, look that way” –
but you can look at it this way:
I’m still uploading my full potential
and so far, only half the asshole I could be.

I don’t have dreamy eyes
I’m just tired, is all.

I lay in bed and pretend
not to hear the noises
of my neighbours fighting or fucking, not sure
(hope they’re fucking or else it’s a long fight)

and think of what I do:
helping someones come up
with somethings to say
and after Round No. Umpteen
of corrections, wanting by now to go for broke,
to speak neither truth nor falsehood,
but just to SCREAM out n’ be done with it.
Just.
To have something.
ANYthing.
To SAY!!!

I don’t have dreamy eyes, I told you:
I’m just tired, and that is all.

Empires

Posted on by under non-rhyming, poetry, solemn

This world’s a snake built on politics
and the second you think you’re safe,
it will bite.

This world’s a communion of men
whose deeds you’ve forgotten, forgiven;
who calculated you’d forget, forgive;
who will bite.

Freedom is to build your own fence and cage
and to fight wars on paper over paper.
What has patience bought us
but time to kill in the hope
that one day our luck would suffice
and it would be that time that would crumble our walls,
not the spearhead of some thrall of pride?

None more vile than men who’ve learned to wipe blood
on their hands, across their face without feeling the hate,
without needing the red haze set before their eyes.

Next time you watch your Kings,
your Presidents, your Overlords…
Picture them in warpaint, in kevlar vests with blades in hand.
Picture them in camouflage and balaclavas, their mouths the mouths of sharks.
Picture them in suicide vests, with a billion bullets laid at each of their feet.
Picture them with dirt under their nails from digging a mass grave.
Picture them wearing your worried face as their common mask.

Second to Last Day

Posted on by under experimental, humorous, non-rhyming, poetry, short stories

I went to get a sandwich and coffee;
the barista won’t look at me,
gazes at the sandwich (chicken caesar)
and mutters: “Four ninety”.

Hey, I’m over here, so how about screw you?

Her spoken afterthought: “Anything else?”
I want coffee but still say “nah”.

It’s my second to last day before holidays. I’m still here.

I pass a maintenance guy. His reflection looks back at him from the maze of glass doors he is cleaning. Then I realize it’s no reflection but another guy talking with him, joking with him, mirroring him.

Damn, I give way too much credit to the glass doors of this world.

I head for escalator. This woman walks diagonal to me. I think: “oh shit”. I begin to see a pattern emerging here, detective Columbo.

I reach the escalator first. Feeling her behind me, tailing me. Spy stories, eh.

I make for the door, push it and not hold it open for her. I pretend I dunno she’s there.

It ain’t the first woman I’ve pretended I didn’t know was there. I was there, now I’m here. How about trying to be less of a dickhead every now and then?

On the street, she passes me by and becomes the one pretending she don’t know I’m there. My my, how the tables have turned.

(Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t know if it was the same woman.)

My breath steams as I exhale. As I walk the street up to the office. It’s 3.5 days till midsummer. So in conclusion: fuck!

P.S. I wrote this down in the bus, some old dude sitting next to me. If he saw what I was writing, he must’ve thought “this guy is hella weird”.

But still here, man. I’m still here.

Voluntary Full Disclosure

Posted on by under experimental, non-rhyming, poetry

My favorite color is blue, my least favorite color is brown
My favorite person in the world is none of your fucking business, my least favorite person in the world is oooh apathy and indifference I dunno too many to choose from I suppose
My favorite team is Arsenal F.C., my least favorite team is FC Barcelona because fuck dynasties
My favorite pope is I don’t have a favorite pope, my least favorite pope is all the reactionary turds to have held the office and the funny hat that goes with it
My favorite kind of thing is a shirt that sees thru just ‘nuff to show her underwear, my least favorite kinda thing is foolish pride

My favorite town in the world is Ghent, my least favorite town in the world is ummm I dunno maybe nnnaah really dunno
My favorite person to have sex with is yo momma, my least favorite person to have sex with is yo daddy aaah what an obvious joke
My favorite number is 2 followed by 10, my least favorite number is nnnnnine
My favorite book is From Here To Eternity by James Jones, my least favorite book is Dan Brown’s Hidden Symbol or Secret Symbol or whateveritwas
My favorite beer is pretty much most beers when I’m in the proper mood, my least favorite beer is Bishop’s Finger because that stuff tastes like cabbage, yo

My favorite English word is “vicarious”, my least fav English word is “fav”
My favorite German word is “Selbstvernichtung”, my least favorite German word is “doch” though I can live with it
My favorite food is spaghetti bolognese, my least favorite food is some milk-based vegetable soup so repugnant I haven’t bothered to find out the English word for it
My favorite song is “Friend of Mine” by The National, my least fav song is prreeetty much anything of the mediocrecore shit In Flames have been churning out in recent years
My favorite adult playground is London, my least favorite adult playground is Helsinki

My favorite artsy playpen is Berlin , my least favorite artsy playpen is there’s no such thing since artsy playpens rule by default
My favorite American prez is Clinton, My least favorite American prez is Dubya
My favorite Ameri-prez I can’t really have a proper opinion on is LBJ, my least favorite Ameri-prez I can’t really have an opinion on is any segregation-supporting dickheads in case there were some
My favorite sex position is every position, my least favorite sex position is are you stupid or what it’s seeeex just enjoy it
My favorite car is who even has a favorite car I mean you just drive it from A to B, my least favorite car is your car you keep spouting on about even when nobody clearly gives a flying fuck

My favorite rapper is too many to name, my least favorite rapper is ahdunno Lil’ Jon maybe pretty overrated, you know
My favorite painting is “Nighthawks” or maybe “American Gothic”, my least favorite painting is “Mona Lisa” yeah you heard me it’s boooringsauce
My favorite real fake real fake real star is Lana Del Rey, my least favorite real fake real fake real star is Lady Gaga hey your schtick got real old reeeeal fast
My favorite Latin word is you know what fuck this shit, my least favorite Latin word is did you not hear me I’m done with this one null and void over n’ out go home nothing to see here police line do not cross no comment as of right now ok clear the room this press conference is over