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Siriumish

Täysikuu

64 posts in this topic

Minkähän takia miehistä löytyy niin vähän runoja.

 

Ihan vaan vaikka otsikolla Man.

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Man

 

You in my dreams are one strange bit of steel,

hardened in heat of iron maidens

or in flames of the deepest pits?

Your tongue breeds poetry

which softens me liquid

and makes me wonder if you need a bowl.

Upon your shadows I forget all my fears

and the time means nothing.

Your love makes sweat a lovely scent.

 

My gods, has you seen my little heart,

izzit buried under my wants

or tucked between my needs and these pink sheets?

This morning, this time after moon,

please, wiggle me back to my dream man.

 

... : ' * , ~ , * ; , . . ....!??

 

No, siinä...

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That wand of sweet vapours,

the fireflies upon the stars,

me in pyjamas

- illuminated is the path for your thoughts.

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You say "Time means nothing".

...but i want My short Time in this world back...

I still don´t know what You are,

why You come in my dreams,

how you know me so well.

While pondering that - again -

the Universe is pampering the gods,

spreading that stupid dust in all possible empty places

and letting me go old and insane.

 

This silly childish mind of mine

- haunted by pink castles and ghosts -

is stealing My Time by keeping me quiet.

....Wish my wants were more like needs of leopard,

not like my unfinished drawings and sketches,

not nice enough to show anyone,

neither bad enough to be destroyed.

These sketches of mine, 

they play in corners,

they nibble fluffy wool bunnies,

their sharp tiny teeth reminds me of My Time passing...

 

(Godmothers and their hoccuc poccus,

have been fooled by fairy tales.

I thought there is one world only,

but now i know i was wrong.

- No, not going to tell You more about this,

all i wanted was just a little goodnight kiss.)

 

Ah, Time giving nothing means nothing to me,

so wish the Universe had given me something.

If everything is just dust,

what is this strong feeling

strangling my heart.

Time of Yours is from another world,

because My Time is passing away.

 

 

 

***


 

Siriumish

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The Spring Wind has been gadding about and found me.

"Gods i have been waiting for you, my greatest lover..."

 

He shoves his magical invisible long tongue inside me.

He is moving it slowly and licking my guts, mind and sensitive bits -

in most fascinating way.

 

The snow melts,

glorious is the art he creates,

to be his muse is divine.

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Sinulla on todellakin valtava runoilijan lahja. Siitä kannattaa pitää kiinni.

* :, '

Minen ole mitenkään intohimoinen ihminen mutta kirjoitan intohimoisia runoja. Nämä täällä ovat vähän semmoisia aihioita ja joskus niitä varmaan vähän muuttelen jos niitä kertyy. Ehkä niistä teen sitte vanhana kääkkänä jonkun kokoelman jossain muodossa säilytettäväksi... " : ; ,'* , . . .

:)

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The words get stuck

upon this pool of stars,

lingering lights from your soul

which i wish to be my heaven.

Like there were no words

though there is an endless stream of lies,

and most beautiful poems hissed

and growled out from your mouth

- my lips are like stoned

and my fangs grow.

This atmosphere from jungle,

our eyes staring and waiting in shadows,

thrill and knowledge of not making wrong moves,

wishes of good hunt and to be caught,

wishes of small death.

 

: ; * , ' * , : * : . . . . ...

Edit: ...tuollahan oli ihan tyhmiä typoja...

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Now there are so many beautiful lines, written by dark ink of shadows, which are dark only because the stars are so bright and alive.

 

***

 

Tämän jätin pois kun ajatus muuttui - pitäisikö poisheitetyistä riveistä rakentaa väreilevät peilit veteen puhtaaksipestyjen runojen alle?

 

...

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Pour me one glass of sunlight wine,

blue nectar of the elves,

energy drink of restless spirits.

Yes, pour me a glass of sunlight wine,

upon these deepening shadows

i read invisible lines of poems untold.

Hearing the words is like catching thoughts -

which possibly have escaped from the theatre of ancient minds or souls of forgotten creatures -

which ever live and never die.

 

. ' : ; * : ' * . . . .

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Olen kirjoitellut lasten rokkipiiseihin sanoituksia parisen viikkoa ihan huvikseen kun on vain semmoinen inspis. Ensin aina suomeksi ja sitten englanniksi. Nyt viime yönä sain aikaan Bangkok piisin in english.

 

Tämä on nyt minun tämän hetken runoutta vissiin. Tunteista kirjoittaminen ei vaan onnistu kun kaikki on mennyt semmoiselĺe mykkyrälle.

 

............... * : , * ' , * . . ...

 

Bangkok

 

Remprant:

My mighty sneeze scuppered the needle,

the compass turned into a whirligig.

We should be on the open sea

but that's Bangkok's port I see.

 

Captain:

Attention! This is Captain Jones!

Who has taken my telescope?

Dawn chases the fog away,

- hear the seagulls from Bengal bay!

 

With good luck our destination

will be dimly visible anon!

Can see the sun through the mist,

but in a very strange position it is...

 

Remprant:

By the way, Captain Jones,

a funny thing has happened...

I wonder if Bengal could be belayed,

because we´ve just got to Bangkok!

 

Captain: What on earth are you saying..?

Remprant: Ehm, on earth, on waves, you name it...

Captain: ...that we are in Bangkok?

Remprant: Yep! Quite blown off course!

Captain: You...Rrrrrrat!

 

Captain:

Ahoy! This is the Captain again,

bring my best peg leg to me!

We are off to Bangkok town

let´s swap the rat for marzipan!

 

Remprant:

If i found a new compass,

we might forget the marzipan?

Let´s gad about Bangkok today

and have fun - heppah-hey!

 

Captain: Hah-hah - You have no gold!

Remprant: Got a Van Gogh in the hold!

Captain: You´re gonna get our cook sold?

Remprant: Off we go, Bangkok is fun they´ve told!!

 

 

Jaa.... se onkin jo tullut tuupiin oikein laulettuna. Kun korjaa tuon linkin alkua niin tämänkin älyllisen, lyyrisen sanakudelman voi kuunnella ihan laulettunakin. En ymmärrä miten oon yhtäkkiä tämmösiä alkanut kirjoittaa. Varmaan jokin ratas kutistunut päässä kesällä.

 

hittip://youtu.be/MH0gCgzkYis

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I am an ancient rag doll

toy-goddess of every broken relic.

My heart is made of silk

i feel no pain, i never die.

...in my dreams.

Actually i'm very much alive,

i bleed, i get hurt.

The angels sing about death

the gods love torturing,

even the wind whispers

curses in my ears.

These free thoughts of mine

float in the air now,

the soul - which occupied my temple for a moment -

is safely stuffed in a bottle

and waits for the new life

like an unborn curious baby

while this dust of mine

sinks into the depths of the cold ocean

as my poem to Mother Earth.

 

****

 

Edit: nyt oon hukannut yhden värssyn. Eikä sitä oo täälläkään. Mihinköhän sen sitten kirjoitin.

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Everything i touch

turn into bubbles

and float away from me.

....cannot fathom

what all those tiny swans

are doing inside all the bubbles...

they must be my wishes

which i have never told about

to anyone.

*****...

my wishes are abandoning me,

they are leaving.

I never gave them any chance

to fly free.

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Tasmanian Devil

 

If i sink any deeper

i may see the daylight in Tasmania.

So let me sink in peace.

I have seen the northern lights,

heard the ice cold poems of my love,

there is no room for my tiny heart,

which falls in love too easily

and cannot be healed.

If i sink through the bottoms of two oceans,

through the pits of Lord Hades,

the Tasmanian devil will be newborn.

So let me go in peace

if you don't want my little teeth to rip you in pieces.

 

" , : " . * ' ; , * . . . .....

http://coconutcafe.vuodatus.net

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