How do you know

How do you know which raindrop is the critical one

that cracks open the seed.

Never curse the rain.

How do you know which sun ray gives the seed the

signal to grow

Never curse the sun.

And never, ever curse the wind

the wind carries seeds into fertile soil

followed by rain and sunshine.

Watch your step, human, do not interfere

cat for sadness

tear drops on cat fur

disappear in softness

soothing purring

He looks at me and blinks

a cat kiss

empathy across species

we all feel pain

Low pressure

The air is very still today

low atmospheric pressure

my cigarette smoke just hangs in there

in an all-enveloping damp

Three bats are dozing 

In their silver silk jackets

A perfect geostrophic balance

Low grey clouds

Nature is waiting

for an anomaly

perhaps an arctic oscillation

- or nothing

Angels cry

When you follow your lust 

you waste precious

beautiful stardust

and the angels cry.

When you launch your missiles
those nasty, heat seeking missiles

the angels cry.

Do you still want to pretend to try 

and blindly trust your stupid alibi?

You say my smile lights up the world

how come i'm now in pain - tightly curled

and again

the angels cry.

Skyrockets, skyrockets

those fucking satellites

bring along power failures

Skyrockets, skyrockets

more fucking satellites

bring along pipe leakages

Stop acting out

because this is what my stardust-covered, beautiful angels cry about.

Refugees

A flood of refugees

suffering families fleeing their homes.

European politicians acting as referees

meanwhile my countrymen are throwing stones.

I am an expatriate

and a proud patriot,

but seeing a Finnish man 

dressed as Ku Klux Klan

in the international news
blows my fuse

and throws me into a refugee's shoes.

I don't know the solution 

the European politicians, elected to decide

are still struggling with simple air pollution

and trying to choose the right side.

They talk about the costs -

As if tormented humans were moths,

how most economically to eradicate

or fairly allocate.

They supposedly have access to all facts

so I forgive my own ignorance.

We still cannot turn our backs

or prop up fences of defense.

Political history leaves deep tracks.

It tears me apart

but here's what I know in my heart:

We humans do not ignore suffering

we do not ignore a person hungering

we humans do not let people die

and we do not turn our backs on a baby's cry.

Friend-Day poem

To my friends

„Humans have no fur so they need friends“

My web of friends

woven into my life

the fabric it brings

of mulberry silk strings

knitted into a protective cloth

- A Kevlar vest for tough times.

Making me, molding me

always protecting me

Creating a beautifully patterned fabric

Vane velvet mixed with earthy hemp

Sexy spandex for acrylic afternoons.

Woolsock-warm, the cosy people.

Daily wear cotton

soft and durable, the kind that takes any tear

those are my closest friends, very dear

the ones I can stain with my pain.

You all mean something to me

and you defeat humankind’s strongest fear,

- which is indifference

by giving my life’s fabric its unique consistence

with a delicate braiding of lace -

to remind of the preciousness of life and space.

No harsh tags or itchy labels à la H&M

my friend’s fabric has no beginning or an end

Thank you, for being my friend!

Balancing

svensk version

balancing

balancing between self improvement and self acceptance 

searching peace by trying to belittle the ego

going from achievement to achievement, 

but realizing it's as fragile as a tower of lego.

the darkness never leaves -it's always near

and it's a pulling kind, with promises of bliss within

it is seducing, urging me to jump and dive in

assuring it will bring an end to my fear.

balancing 

to stay in the light

the darkness grows towards the night

in the morning hours it's at its strongest

and those morning hours are the longest.

off the alarm clock goes

an angel in disguise

a life saving device

it's a new day -and the balancing act may recommence.

Autumn Poetry

I could not find an English version of one of my favourite seasonal poems, so I translated it myself (scroll down for the English version). 

Here's the most beautiful autumn poem ever. Written by Erik Axel Karlfeld. No matter what your mother tongue is, or what languages you know, please read the original Swedish first -it's fabulous and I doubt any translation can ever really catch its magic...

Nu är den stolta vår utsprungen, 
den vår de svaga kalla höst. 
Nu blommar heden röd av ljungen 
och hvitt av liljor älvens bröst. 
Nu är den sista visan sjungen 
av sommarens kvinnligt veka röst; 
nu stiger uppför bergens trappa 
trumpetarn storm i dunkel kappa.

Now the proud spring is hither

the spring called fall, by the meek.

Now the moor blooms red with heather

and white lilies by the river's creek.

Now the last feeble song 

of summer's tender voice has choked.

As Trumpeter Storm treads strong

up the mountain stairs all darkly cloaked.

..and this is just a fraction of the whole thing...this man was a genius