Be Very Afraid


Screeching fingers along the ground

Be very afraid

Rustling in the underbrush

Be very afraid

Don’t hear the screams of children

Coming from the underbrush

The bushes hide its vile face

Be very afraid

Walk some steps towards the hidden leaves

Be very afraid

But be careful not to make a sound

Be very afraid

You will see nothing

As darkness will surround you

Do not look me so puzzled

Be very afraid

Many have disappeared in these parts

Be very afraid

I am one of them

Be very afraid

For I have felt the embrace

Of green fingers alive

They are the fingers of the human plant

Be very afraid


The snow shone black under his eyes

They were blood-red gold and hot as ice

He was a creature made for the night

That was alight around him


The day was dark and dismal to him

The world then would not bend to his every whim

He was a creature made to enchant

All vain maidens of beauty


He was a lover with whom none could compare

The eyes of women shone to him everywhere

But all he longed for was the sweetness of death

Where his true love lay to not meet him yet

Mother’s Last Song (Pity)


Here she lie in pain and wait

Looking at the sores on her lap

There her tears fall to sleep

On the bosom different and bare


Look how her eyes are sad

Filled with sorrow for death

It has parted her

And stabbed her like a sword


On her pedestal


She will lie in wait


For the one she gave life and breath

Is now gone away


She remembers the angel choir

Singing of happiness

A king was born

But kings must rest

For they rest naught in life

But in the Lord’s gracious everlasting sight


This is a mother’s last song

To her first child in death and birth

But this is no comforting lullaby

This is the lamentation

For the last of the greatest kings

Song of Pieces

Masqueraders admit not to kisses, nor words,

in the plight of privilege, these creatures humane.

O pieces in tandem, in harmony.

Obscure assembly, enter the haze

for yearning is expressly forbidden,

no harmony of nature, only old snaked trees.


O pieces in harmony: move NO post, adventure

into the water of festivals. No sane things comes of us humans, for we are agitated

Lord, let no disasters happen. No vengeance,

o pieces different to us, be kind, have no apprehensions of songs

and our debates come with no actual safety

come heathen images and spice of dead pieces.


You small pieces are long by our mandate scarred,

tornadoes, vengeance, uncountable songs of infancy,

interrogated youths. We, the dominion, are second

to mere suspicions of the proprieties of happiness

and no excuse to me first comes in the development of songs.


Based on Brasilian Lêdo Ivo’s poem O Sonho dos Peixes (The Dream of Fishes). The poem was first translated homophonically based on what the words sounded like in English and Finnish, and then modified in 2017 to encompass more meaning.

Not Too Much

No habitation meets the eye

A speck that would have been beneath my sight

Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all

Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought

And it seems like time when after doubt

And of course there must be something wrong

That I should have guessed

It is because like men we look too near

And further still at an unearthly height

And lonely as it is, that loneliness

Were not too much to pay for birth

Robert Frost Cento

An Angel

What incurs my wrath is that I have been cheated

Heedless of the warning I gave

Can they not see that I dreamed of anger

That could never consume me the way it did


I closed my eyes and saw an angel

And in moments my fury was gone

He would morph from he to she depending on the desires of those he serviced


He was a beauty with oak curls

His eyes were as blue and piercing as the sky and ice

There was a fire there that could not be quenched

And it burned with endless wonder


My ire was replaced by possessiveness

I wanted to own his beauty

He looked at me with such awe

That I felt horrible for being so plain


He was the object of the desires of the plenty

And I wanted to prison him

But my black nature was laid to rest

When I came to the decision to let him go


He would not leave until I said the words

“You are too pure to be seen in this world.”

How I Became To Bow

I seek to please when it pleases me

I do wish to be helpful

I want to know what vexes thee

I like to not be a handful

I hope to be something wanted to see

But I suppose I’d hear an earful

Be as it may I like myself as I am in the now

I will never wish to know how I became to bow


You are a queen who likes to dance

To whose melody I ask

Do you wish to see me frolic or prance

With authority I ask

Were you appointed my guardian ace

With what memory I ask

Is it we are fighting to be ourselves again now

When I never wish to kneel before you or bow

Dig Your Heart For Repair

first published on January 12th, 2015


From the holes of black deepness

Dig your heart for repair

She sleeps in the summer

The everything still is too much to bare

Do we have a moment to spend

Will time and space mind

Whom sets eyes on our eternity

Which is filled with small unthrifts

And as we travel through the black holes of life

This moment will forever stand in eternity

And when remembered, will ease strife

Live Your Life

Feel free to oust yourself

Don’t doubt yourself

Feel free

There is no reason to see the world dark

To feel there’s no hope left

Feel hopeless

Don’t be afraid to be just you

Live the truth of you

Feel courage

No way to say life is easy

No way to go about it one way

No way of saying what you should do

No way of playing it right or wrong

All another can give is some advice

And all you can do is think through twice

All you can do is just do what feels right

All you can do is live your life