keskiviikko 10. joulukuuta 2014

Poetry Time: Some Tasteless Visions

As Yuletide goes on and almost every place is filled with colourful, sparkling, glittering objects (including my own apartment - everyone knows I'm related to magpies), I guess it's time to put here some poems that belong to the same world. Especially now that I'll be seen next weekend in two different places reading my poems: first, at the Open Mic of the Lumooja Club, then in the Anti-Xmas Party of the QFemZine.



Masquerade

So you craved for a kiss
You wanted the sweaty lips to meet,
the pieces of raw meat to touch one another
But there is no glimmer on the bare flesh
It is dim, the colour of nothing

My golden bed is still covered
By red velvet curtains made of fake silk
Mind not to look closer that window – it is painted
For there is nothing worth seeing outside
Better watch the facades of Venetian palaces

That is to say – welcome back to my masquerade
Play the mechanical violin and the harpsichord built yesterday
Choose your own of these lurid masks
With love I bought them from the quaintest boutiques
My dear, I will give you roses if you can play
Your role properly, and keep the costume as you should
You have read my manuscript and you know you are here
Only for wearing the mask as I want you to

You craved for a kiss, and even more you wanted
To know what there really is behind all my masks
You are wrong, for you do not want to know
You ask if the best eyes of the city
Look handsome or revolting – but why are you so sure
That there must be something under this glittering mask?




Arsenic Green

I want to paint my bedchamber
With the colour of the fresh-cut emerald
Shiny green like a twisted laughter; I want to breathe
That colour and eat it with each of my senses

Could I be one of the gluttonous gourmets
Who chose the greatest taste in their lives?
The one that was also the last in their lives
Before the poison creeps into the lungs

For death visits in every green children’s room
While the children are been warned about
The bright-red berries. And three nights before Christmas
An innocent disappeared and was found at spring.

Could I be one of the hungry peasants
Who wanted the only meal of the day?
The one that was also the last in their lives
Before the poison crept into their lungs

So should I waste all into that sparkling green,
Search the jewels behind the walls and the trifle under the trash,
Should I turn everything more pleasing with it?
Yes, should I die in the lime, or live in it?



 My Elixir of Life

 I gather the first blood of catamites
And tears of haughty warriors
To the velvet pouch I take the fern-flowers
For which I stayed awake for the whole Midsummer night

I gather fool’s gold, for it is not worthless
Even though it glitters and is not gold
To the velvet pouch I take locks of abandoned dolls
And some dandelion seeds

I gather feathers of the Phoenix
And some hair from the tail of the Sphinx
To the velvet pouch I take the screams
Of the hawkmoth cut by the curious.

I gather the lava stone of Gomorrah
And water from the lakes of Sahara
To the velvet pouch I take leaves of the flytrap
And the petals of the deadly nightshade.

I gather my lover’s kisses
I need them more than my body does
Instead of taking the purr of the cat
To the velvet pouch I take my singing voice.

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