Aperture

By the one who sits near the throne,

never on it…,

like a poached egg,

floating in the river bed,

silently soothing,

tiny and wild beasts run by,

dragonflies hovering,

silently crawling bugs and slugs

and other curious things,

its abdomen is out the water,

like a raft…,

bellybutton looking for sun,

the freakiest of apertures,

what fascinating meaning,

no meaning at all,

here it just is…,

he, she, them,

a sound of silence,

forever more,

until the swans come home,

the roosters, nagging geese,

all birds of some ancient sky,

some lonely farm,

pastures of green,

foam of seedlings,

pine cones and needles,

slouching in the wind,

through the cracks of pavement,

that used to be hot,

in a forgotten Summer,

she lost it (in Asylum),

of seasonal mourning,

let’s go, let’s go…,

to and fro,

that is the pendulum of Being,

a quiet whisper,

a dream within a dream…,

within a dream,

of a throne room,

filled with pure star light,

crystals of space…,

a greenery, a scene,

here they wrestled,

without meaning,

to be forgetful,

to Be, to Be, to Be.

Autumns Empire

Soon it will spread…,

dizzy daydreams, 

lightheaded walks in the forest,

leaves rustling beneath the ground,

wind like pool of unfinished thoughts,

that is the way…, 

and of all the numerous fiends,

this one was visible to the uninitiated,

the muds and the filths and the lost ones,

thought to be Lost…,

never found,

pigs in blanket, 

holding hot mugs of cocoa,

steam like a ghostly artform,

wiggling near the face,

those are the voices of a memory,

a cry in the dark, a laughter,

the whole Empire of Autumn,

destructive force of Nature,

cruel yet kind Beauty,

undissolved,

a flow of steadiness,

lonely only to the ones afraid,

don’t be afraid…,

soon it will eat your verdigris,

your hubris and hue,

your sweat and swords,

your unease and misty battles,

foreign relations…,

thenotknowings of a fizzy mind,

soon her empty Sun,

will dry out the last clothes…,

washed and fragrant,

unimaginable strength of season,

she smiled a smile,

knowing,

that her time has come,

and you will…,

pause…, rewind,

go forth, far North.

Pensieve

What values the most of you?…,

seemingly innocent and trustworthy,

a momentary speck…,

in the midst of things,

we shall hallow thy name,

more than name…,

we shall hallow the man itself,

rugged and free,

messed three wild boars

and a bear in his lifetime,

sneaky snakes, few monsters

and all the creatures unseen,

some of which became his friends,

gods of the Underworld,

Tartarus and Elysium be their names,

Achilles, son of Peleus, Virgil,

T. S. Eliot, Lincoln and few others,

many earthly Spirits…,

pixies, some mountain-trolls,

heavy and loud Sirens,

Nyphs from the depth of the sea,

he knew them all,

some fires were unextinguishable,

he was one of them,

he who, like an old Oak,

wise and strong, 

moved in the wind,

storm-kissed, children hugged,

under it, lovers got engaged,

some flowers were growing,

you can hear them…,

listen to those sultry sounds,

like passionate lovers,

earth creaking like the bed,

where they made you,

he was made in a corridor,

like a flicker of candle,

icy carpet running down the windows,

September is the new beginning,

then it will end, The End…,

mist and pines,

smell of sea and all it offers,

she stands near the shore,

feet pushed in the Autumn sand,

longing to be touched,

can’t wait,

soon it will come,

lightning without sound,

silence without the whirlpool

of living…,

fingers on your skin,

hairs like soft burn on mine,

there it will Be,

a lot like Future and

all its friends,

a lot like you and me,

and a nice bowl of

Wouldyoubemy…, soup.

To Gibeon

Those evil little eyes…,

watching me endlessly,

as a dark shadowy figure,

of stone and haram command,

she too was wasted on this land,

Earth is too lost…, too loud,

sneer tongue in strangers cheeks,

eating all the news and 

all the newspapers…,

spewing out words of concrete,

they call it talking,

nothing like a good old tablas

mexicanas…,

to ease the pain 

of being a man,

she shivered…,

from tiny white feet,

to that shiny spot on her head,

filled with long and wavy hair,

black and misty…,

she was a Salamander,

fiery chasm in her soul,

feeding of other strange creatures,

energies of nasty philistines,

Saturn devouring his son,

like Novalis and his Love,

died too soon…,

like a muddy mirror…,

a face in it getting lost

when watched too closely,

I was the space of that,

allowance of that,

knowing…,

a fickle worm…,

wiggling its way

to the hearts and minds,

nations like apples, 

gone bad,

we all lost interest,

Rapture as a song from there,

where?…, 

just there…,

now here,

and a callous, tense,

nerve-wrecking,

unmistakingly violent

Love was left…,

to fill the Void,

eodem tempore,

above Gibeon the sun

stopped its celestial travels,

a white hand commanded it,

Will like a hard truth,

visible only to those

willing to see,

it is a heavy toll,

to be light as God,

he said,

we nodded.

Back to the Freyr

To the ones…, 

who lost the Void, 

monsters of the Nether-realm,

Angels of Oblivion,

and you - the soothing starlight,

fires and branches and warmth,

yesterdays delight…,

how did I get so lucky?…,

then back to the Freyr,

its forever Morning tree,

no good, no bad,

just you and me,

free…,

what magnifique created this,

unimaginable storm…,

its fickle eye,

blinking through rain and shadows,

our shadows you say,

then back to the Freyr,

and the glistening grass,

gentle and rough at the same time,

my teeth and fingers and feet,

all are made to Be,

its Nothingness in its true form,

flaccid breasts of a newborn adult,

there you sat…, reading

Wurthering Heights,

I put my hand on your thigh,

it flinches, body of a goddess,

no earthly bounds holding it in place,

she was a Wild…, cat,

then jumped on my lap,

and started purring,

those were the games,

of Heavenly Convictions,

eyes like pine nuts,

your spanish cousin says: 

piñón,

and we walked and we talked,

the animals and other beasts…,

firmly nestled under the glorious sun,

sentence more mired,

you on the other hand,

face from a land so far away,

it seemed like a dream,

how did I get here?…,

I remembered those tumultous days,

hunger and thirst and sadness,

Melancholy Hills,

grey veils and getting stuck,

in all the wrong peoples webs,

but here I Be,

moments like dice,

throwing numbers,

under the blinking sky,

and you more beautiful,

than the Light of that thing,

that distant Source,

now back to the Freyr,

and that forever Morning tree,

the tea is ready…,

would you like some biscuits too?

Madeleine de Proust

I love the city…,

how it demolishes all adulterated,

embedded into the bedrock of knowing,

tying the words and the worst kind,

he who walks with the wrong kind,

might find himself in the best of company,

they said…,

there we frolicked near the whorehouses,

the circuses, Le Freaks…,

cicadas of an unknown hour,

trembling beneath our feet,

drums of the Underworld…,

calling us home,

there near the Throne and Crown,

syllables too thick,

bridges flowing over rivers,

brown like a god…,

Nature was its name,

parks and trees and roads and bushes

were my friends…,

and unfinished love poems,

written for some minx,

who didn’t care for one bit,

same goes for its brain,

there in the silence of beautiful things,

my creatures they woke,

Light flowed in…,

like saying: it’s okay,

even if it wasn’t,

and my Beauty, it was demolished,

not by words…,

or crazy Lovers,

but beauty itself,

greater than…,

Madeleine de Proust,

it was,

and I knew one thing…,

that the city is for the unadultarated,

the essence of living, the Life,

of Life itself, 

for the pure hearted,

the Dreamers,

naked near the Fountains of Youth,

Black Hats and Alley Cats,

race car drivers and masochists,

feminists and politicians,

plummers and Spiritualists,

superultrasexy statues of women,

figures in the moonlight,

like a tram in Moscow killing Berlioz,

Wolands of this world,

always predicting…,

Soonnitwillcome…, said faster,

than lightning in its shoes,

I love the city as a Master,

like a writing on a parchment,

it streches its hairy and black,

and vulgar words over Nature,

gods of Chaos and Order,

nogodsofmine,

we are only seeing,

what is, was and will be created,

seldom lightly,

but that is the Way,

come away from the Dark…,

and into the Light,

soft drinks by the chimney,

Mexican food and songs from Asia,

someone is walking his dog,

poop bags in one hand,

a child in other,

it notices me noticing it…,

by the look,

we realize both,

that the theater is in motion,

and we are the Actors…,

magiciansofperpetuummobile

About the Fifth

Those nightmares of Heaven,

bodies clashing like meteors,

tortured by the looks of…,

and then we were swept,

under the rug of conformity,

to never see, be or touch again,

like a Son who never returns,

wiggling words of comfort…,

to someone like you…,

Who?…, said the owl -

its wings (the Universe of knowing),

and we sang…,

like an italian troubadour,

when you (unclothed) released…,

your mountains of pure white stone,

halting all words, all thought,

Once more unto the breach,

said you - the Queen of Hearts,

like a fly on a painted wall,

then ready to silently fall,

as Autumn leaves…,

the front porch,

like wasted moments,

then excitedly hurrying…,

to be silent again.

And the Day

You are the morning sun…,

the elegance of a wet floor,

while mirroring the nature outside -

its blossoming trees…,

clouds like soft stairs of a 

foreign God…,

You are the coffee breath,

beneath the Hollow Moon,

steamy hand waving across the Sea…,

across the Land,

its fingers crossed for a 

more grounded touch…,

while we search for the hidden meaning,

in our trousers and bra,

You are seldom this quiet,

lip shivering - the upper one,

as saying: with this ‘becoming one’

the onus is on you…,

to Be more,

You are the Souls steer command,

the sandy dune in a 

vast desert of Loneliness…,

as I walk through the walley of 

Shadow and Death,

You quote…,

then proceed to be invisible,

as a ghost of a thousand yards,

sickly white…,

buried beneath the Willow tree,

Sicamore as a brother,

You are the words of a wise man,

losing all his marbles…,

in a card game with Fear,

a Lions roar, a frogs feet,

mischief above judgement…,

and the Day…,

soon my friend,

it will come and call you,

through the veil…,

of Known and Unknown,

there…, 

where we lie,

as the sun goes down,

beyond the horizon,

clouds like soft stairs of a

foreign God.

Sina ainult õitsemas

Võrratu luksus on vaadata seda maailma,

säramas justkui ainult sinule,

kuidas maanteel mühisevad veoautod,

metsad kohisemas vaikuses,

tuul kui vana vedur kohe depoosse jõudmas,

filosoofia kõrgustikud siin ja seal -

ainult siin ja ainult seal,

aga sina - mu hing kui ‘kadunu’,

tule ja tormi viisist, 

laul mis mõeldud hävitama, Dante oleks uhke,

saanud loovuse esimeseks tasandiks,

nüüd sõlmitakse veidraid sõlmi,

lepingud mis lepeteta, kõle tuisk ja mitu vitsa,

ehitame maja, jah, ehitame maja,

nad ütlesid kui ühest suust,

kadunute kavalkaad, see teine tulemine,

aga sinust saanud taimekene laugel maal,

vihma kallab tasa, tasa, sina ainult õitsemas.

Panoptes (Πανόπτης)

Mida sa näed?…,

kui võlutuina näida,

tume maa helde taeva all,

hale kuu Jumala oksal,

kantud rüütel - neli voorust,

viies kingiks sinu näol,

mida sa näed?…,

mu kallim saladus,

kui ohu tunne, verivärskus,

värske veri piimapakul,

udu sombambuulist…,

kõigest kõike teada,

sa oled minu vari,

valge kõrgus kagu higis,

tuul, tuul, tuul mis alla toonud,

sa ulmaliste riigi taeva-and,

ma kasakate saunas,

sa vintske viha lepalaks,

pliks ja plaks,

kõik olen toonud ülemaks,

mida sa näed?…, 

(ta ütleb neiuhäälselt),

ma kannan Atlast…,

ta kanna Maad, 

ma olen ihu sinu viljast,

vili selle Emast, kes laulab,

tuule, vihma, tule laule…,

maad ta laulab ka,

siis tuleb rehaga,

kui suure risti kannatus,

vangistuja appihüüd,

nüüd armastust neab,

keelatud ja muidumaias,

lapsed põllul: kes aias?…, 

kes aias?…,

mida sa näed?…,

sina kes ülimale Isandaks,

kes nagu tuletooja Prometheus,

enne häda silmamas kullipoegi,

nüüd inime on mannetute sohu,

kohutav kui näotu, 

ideede hale-taltsas pale,

kõik hirmu neelab koltumale,

siis annab lapse, isa, venna,

naise annab ka…,

annab vale ja võõra raha eest,

kuldse vere kuldne kuma,

Fausti needus tulitamas,

mikro-makrokosmosel,

kurva kuju pitsatina.

Mida sa näed?…,

kui võlutuina näida,

tume maa helde taeva all,

hale kuu Jumala oksal,

kantud rüütel - neli voorust,

viies kingiks sinu näol.

Taas Acheronil õisi

Noorkuu keha 

valge piim,

tilkunud - 

meie oleme 

kadunud ja

lärmakad,

kõhedad kujud 

loksumas merel,

tilpnemas seal

jumalate ketil,

viril ja Vergiliuseta,

Dantel suured silmad -

seal Acheroni äärel,

enne ringe,

*

pidutsedes põikleme,

kadunute viimsepäeva…, 

pidu, puhkus igavene,

naerul kotkad 

taevapiiril,

kusagil kus 

mett kallab 

kui kulda,

kusagil kus 

sind sai 

maetud mulda,

mu naerusui,

*

neid tiibu 

kärbib liigne arm,

ühis see ja 

ühis too,

nüüd leelotame 

hiiglasteta,

tarva trollid 

Suurest Soost,

õdak paljunäoline,

esiemade viimne viis,

isade viha, tuli takus,

käsi rakkus,

*

minu tuli 

oli roheline,

sametine süda,

peoleo laulust,

üksindusest,

Nautilusest,

*

kogusin armastust,

kogusin…,

kui laualt puru,

peopesasse,

enne kui saabusiva,

tähtis külaline,

*

tal olid sinu silmad,

ja sinu suu,

sinu ninagi,

nops nagu päevakoer,

roomamas…,

mu ilu tundel,

Estetus Maximus,

*

siis võitsime 

kurja päeva,

vallutasime -

puudutuste,

vaenu ja puuduse,

*

selle miski…, 

hinge salariigist,

kus Dante, Vergiliuski,

mu sõber Achilleus,

teisedki - kauge…,

Acheroni ääres,

kaldal õitsmas

valgeid õisi,

kui meie oleme, 

kadunud ja

lärmakad,

kui noorkuu keha

valge piim

on tilkunud,

seal enne ringe,

*

kus Acheroni kaldal,

valgeid õisi…,

ma näen 

ja nuusutan.

Sina oled oma ema igavene kannatus

- inani ventre või kuidas lapsest sai mängukann,

ja suuremaid asju sai seletada vabalt ja vaenuta,

Sina oled oma ema igavene kannatus,

kui kannatlikult vaatab ta sinu juuste langemist,

õlad nagu vitsad hunnikus metsas,

nägu nagu päikesepaiste,

sina oled saadanlikku irvitaja,

kelle mudel on aeternus,

oravad tamme võras, 

puukoristajad tegemas söömistantsu,

see vana itaallalik kombetalitus,

Jeesuse viimane söömaaeg - püha ja õhtul,

nagu varsad hommikusel aasal,

sina oled oma ema igavene kannatus,

kastemärjad varbad südasuvel,

sõnulseletamatu ja pidulik tunne,

kui langesiva inimese unne,

need lilled kõik kingitakse sulle,

kalmistute kange rõõm - valge ja unelm,

nagu tugitalade otsad ulatumas katustelt välja,

värvitud valgeks rootsi punasele,

sina oled oma ema igavene kannatus,

karkass ilma aluseta,

kodu ilma südameta,

aeg su vahva valvureina,

pidulik nagu kutsekooli lõpetanu,

ootamas oma ema tunnismärki - tulemata,

seal me istusiva ümber lõõma,

lõke nagu salaohtu,

sina olid oma ema igavene kannatus,

kui nõidusime vaskusse närima linikusse augu,

kui vaklu, kärbseid, suggetisi,

kui kauge karma valus vits,

nagu sünnipäeval see esimene pits,

tühja kõhu peale,

sest kuidas muidu?!.,

lubi lõhnas spetsiifiliselt,

langevate lehtede sügisene saladus,

sedasi sa olid oma ema igavene kannatus,

kui isa polnud kodus,

tema oli Jumal taevas - see särav Zeusi luik,

lapergune ühtesaamishetk,

vibratsiooniline ülekanne - surematu loomus,

siis võeti sinust amatus mea vita,

tuli takus nagu öeldakse,

või mis saanud puder,

tamp mis liiga õhku,

oder mis valmis pudend,

naer mis pugend kõhtu,

kui isa polnud kodus,

kui isa polnud kodus,

sina olid oma ema igavene kannatus,

õhtu mil kustusime tuled,

vaik kui sära Leedu metsadest,

sinu kleit oli valitud uhke teadmisega,

teadvustamata et isa polnud kodus,

nagu valguse viimane loit,

sulnis petrichor oma sünesteetilisel asemel,

sinu kõrgeaulise tasemel,

siis kui isa polnud kodus,

teadsid lapsed sadat asja salaja,

kuidas roomab tõuk mööda hernevart,

kui kräunub pime kass pööningul,

kui tajub pääsukesi lendamas sihvat-sähvat,

kuidas kasvavad pelargoonid,

nagu õhtu mil tuled,

kõik väravad on valla sel tuhandejaüheöömajal,

nagu sadat vakka tangusoola,

sada aastat üksindust, 

kui isa polnud kodus ja…,

sina olid oma ema igavene kannatus,

meie võit oli vabadus mis suretanud ära,

selle kes võtnu elu ja surma ja miski veel,

tulge tagasi kõik te inimese lapsed,

sest siin on tema kes oli oma ema igavene kannatus.

Antumbra

Meie metsikute teine müür,

valged õied maakodus,

lahvatava tundmuse mesimagus helk,

kalleid materjale,

siis sina kandsid punast,

naeratasid pärlmutter hambaid,

varjamata reostatud hinge,

enne pärispattu roosiaias,

roheline baldahhiin, samet,

ma mõtlesin:

"ilu" – ladina keeles,

ja keerasin teise külje,

*

metsikute lõvide jalad,

seismas kohvilaua all,

mõrkja hommiku aroomid,

kelneril kõik kombed selged,

mind saatis naine,

*

vaegusi loeti salaja,

neil olid isade ja emade,

isaisade ja emaemade..., 

nimed,

*

mulle öeldi kõrva sisse,

sõnad madujate niitidena,

liibumas mööda möödaniku vaiku,

mööda möödaniku vaiku,

nagu öö mis liiga pikk,

*

siis sellest sai meie suvi,

päikese kuldne mõõk, kilpki,

seal võõra valguse all,

taevalina, sinisest sinisem,

Antumbra,

*

meie hinged olid väljadele,

lumistele kõrbetele,

kaugetele orgudele,

näritud puudele,

üksikutele okastele,

libedatele kividele,

seal jões, 

kust kala ei tohtinud püüda,

*

siis me armatsesime,

nagu mustad puudlid,

kõrbenud ja varakad,

kuldsed mündid,

kõlisemas taskus,

*

enne taevaminemispüha,

ohh seda caelo't,

nüüd annan endast kõik,

annan iseendale.