Luscinia

Sinu kannatuste allikas…,

kodu mis alliumiteta

*

The source of your suffering,

home without alliums,

the life you’ve been living,

a knifes edge…,

dull blade of perfinity,

a quiet killer of dreams,

dreams within dreams,

and the sound you made,

near an old farm-house,

beasts inside singing,

to a heavenly quartet,

little angels knitting a vest,

of all the elements of the universe,

the World and all its small issues,

made bigger by the god-head,

Mind that doesn’t matter

and a Matter that doesn’t mind,

*

“He who makes a Beast of himself,

gets rid of the pain of being a man”

dear Samuel Johnson knows…,

what does the seagull know,

what does the Sea?

a picturesque landscape,

inspiring young poets, painters

and writers…,

oooh, them vile and vilified,

Rapture in the moonlight,

a gods hand, 

like a misty fauno,

wiping over all that was,

that has to Be,

and you - my darling,

like a Nightingale…,

a Pharmacist,

of the Old World,

my Luscinia,

so that you would know…,

Love and all its Friends,

a rebel boat on a lake,

a Winter taking hold,

a forest too cold,

Aristophanes writing

sad and meaningless verses,

plays from the Underworld,

before Birds and Callimachus,

before the rape of inspiration,

a soothing touch of Pegasus,

that’s how I felt…,

meeting you,

that morning…,

near the Hawthorne Gate,

a Garden of Mischievous Deeds,

blooming orchids

and a well, the Dipper,

small and meaningful things,

a kiss, a flower, 

you in your dress,

white as lily,

“Toto, I’ve a feeling

we’re not in Kansas anymore”,

said my head, my heart,

a long and lingering…,

Good day to you sir,

Goodbye,

*

and all that is good…,

in this world,

when you walked,

and talked,

wild, wild West,

the Umbra of your knowing,

darkest of nights,

before your Light,

grace of a thousand,

Here I stand,

stolen the Crown of Visceral,

hair to high noon,

ready for you, the Amphitheater,

and my soul to be पूरा

poora as the Indians call it,

täielik for Estonians,

complete, finished, thorough,

integrated, Absolute,

unblemished is the way

that I walk…,

road to the Unknown,

a sense of gentle meaning,

in meaning nothing at all,

and all in Nothing,

there are knights…,

in the afternoon,

saying: Now I’m ready,

I’m ready now.

- Ooh how green we are.

Canvas Of Love

It crawled from under a big rock,

mouth filled with worms

and bugs and other elements,

it stayed its hand before the anger struck,

no parent could have ever done that,

it said with great care that it loved,

that pain was succumbed to the virtuous,

that Heaven was in a grain of sand,

a Wildflower near the wall of our house,

a pesky snake of androgynous development,

soon to be marred…,

as does all that is different in this world,

it is a cruel state of affairs…,

“These violent delights have violent ends.”

Shakespeare said in Romeo and Juliet,

what a play…,

these passions read unmistakingly,

some even died on a cross,

for who these ties have tied,

those colors glimmer in the blue velvet,

of a sky…,

your carpet is better than mine,

it’s attached to a wall,

so misty and windy and cold,

the night is,

soon to be marred…,

then fixed or healed or resurrected,

again and again and again,

the ghost of our past,

endless bickering,

a stick with meat,

just a stupid way to stay smart,

never smart enough,

only ever waning in comparison,

consciously resting…,

peace of mind and heart 

and letting go…,

and you my fine Oak,

with dying branches and leaves,

ready to sleep…,

then wake again.

The Sun of Perpetual Cosmos

“ I would traverse not once more, but often the hell of my inner being. One day I would be a better hand at the game. One day I would learn how to laugh. Pablo was waiting for me, and Mozart too.”

Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf

Through and through…,

as a flicker in the woods,

a Nature - cruel yet true,

their laughter…, 

was a finicky remembrance,

of all the stillness,

of all the silliness,

lost in the void of Being,

cold and harsh…,

not harsh but something more,

indulgent in its flow,

energy - what keeps it together,

a nuanced way of Living,

here it stayed…,

unlovable and loved,

Loneliness like a rite,

a pacifists romance with murder,

a killer of some ancient flower,

tuned into the very fabric of existence,

no city or noise or complaint

could ever wax and wane,

Here it just is,

*

what glorious Light…,

its emanating, radiate,

a solemn vow…, WOW,

and then…, poof,

drowned in its search,

a beast, a Nation,

a People…,

Angelic sort,

creeping behind windows,

our souls,

floating on all the memories,

what’s left of them,

floating over wood,

the stone, stove (hot and cold),

Lovers hearts…,

beating as one,

Done,

like a river,

beaten to submission,

by the dams and pressure,

by time and Timelessness,

metal on metal on metal,

against metal,

future crying in its birth,

people Mad as herring,

salty taste of volcanic rock,

oozing the lava of compassion,

none left for me,

I left none for me,

*

but Heaven is beneath our feet,

not the way we want things to be,

they ought to be, should be,

but how they really are…,

that is poverty of Death,

a smile of god-child,

eggless in its growth,

spherical essence of Now,

un-Now…,

it moves with the current,

trust and river and silence,

few crabs are nesting…,

fishermen running while standing,

the Sun of perpetual Cosmos,

giving no judgment,

releasing pure energy,

to the good, the bad,

the very worst…,

here she rests,

me as well, the world,

ready and able.

*

τοῦ πατρὸς χειρός

See teine maailm…,

kuhu au kuulub,

Daalia…,

silma võrkkestal,

päiksepoolse aia,

kaua kumav koidik,

rammestunud lapsed,

tuleviku hallaoht,

mu lapsed…,

piduse päeva alge,

mu lapsed…,

kõige valgem naine,

kas trubaduuri kuulsid,

…, süda mis kuulub sulle,

nad liblikaina…,

džungli humas,

ingleid loendand…,

on kokku,

kui mustmiljon lustakalt,

on järve seisvail vetel,

sääskedena libisenud luiske,

neil puudu ülehõlmauiske,

mul silmas sinu…,

pilgu hõisked,

ja tuleviku lapsed,

rammestunult valla,

ja nende isa käsi…,

(mina), muudkui kalla,

et ei ealeski…,

ei väsi,

see kallis…,

isakäsi.

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