IRC-Galleria

which one fits better, when you're not just waiting
for the other shoe to drop, or something to hit the fan,
but almost awaiting it?

Well, I got somewhat drunk yesterday.
Waking up at 13.00 was far too easy.
No friggin hangover to speak of.
Damned waste of money.
(money=bad, wasting money=bad, what's this?)

I wanted to get angry but I couldn't do it.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean angry, but rather raving mad.
A bloody-haze-clouding-my-eyes, brain-running-out-my-ears
-kind of mad.
Hmm, yeah, burning-the-enemy-alive, killing-all-in-my-sight
-kind too, maybe. If you like. Except I already failed.
Oh, well, whatever(, nevermind).

Or maybe I just wanted to get drunk.
Wasted like the disembodied head of some hooligan
soaked in a tubful of scotch.
(Still no can do.)

kummallista.
tuntuu siltä että pitäisi tehdä uudenlaisia asioita.
ehkä joitain tyhmiäkin asioita.
(ei muka saisi olla tyhmä koskaan. onneksi kaikki eivät ajattele niin.)
ikävä kyllä olen ajanut itseni umpikujaan - on vaikea nähdä mitään uudenlaisena.
mutta skapunkbändin perustan ainakin.
jajaja.
laulan enemmän.
voisi myös alkaa kirjoittamaan taas, vaikka se onkin ikivanha asia. ehkä senkin voi joskus keksiä uudestaan. luultavasti ei vielä, vaikka kirjoittaisinkin.

Grey clouds atop the mountains
the rush of water
the grass wet of rain or dew
- I don't know

These mornings meet me at my best
- sweet melancholy replaces regret,
and not the feeling of being lost,
but the childlike wonder
at discovering a new world
just over the next hill
makes my feet restless



(Freiburg ~10:00:00 01.06.06)

syksyn lehdet suhisivat yötuulessa
mieleni hämärimmistä sopukoista
heräsi paha tahto
sekoitti niiden kuiskeeseen ikäviä sanoja
käänsin selkäni sen valheille
ja totuuksille
vielä tällä kertaa

I could write of candles and moths
of the fire burning away my insides
of the fleeting touch of small hands, soft and cold

but my spine would still be numb and brittle, as if covered with ice

etanan jälki
auringon kuivattama

usva
joka nousee suosta
ikuisen menneisyyden raatojen turpeesta

juuret juovat kunniattomien esi-isien verta
maassa lukemattomia silmuja
kellastuneita väreilevässä ikihelteessä

halveksutut sanat
kaikkeuden tietoisuus
särkynyt

when the weight of the world wills to crush me
and to lower me to my cave of a tomb
under the roots of nevergreens
beautifully withering by the lack of heaven's tears

come, you worms of the earth
bone-hungry dig through my skull

after the waves of wrath deserved
wash away all the so-called sins
carry the petal crown from my hair
to lands undying

seek me, you worms of the seas
hollow me out as already I am hollow
make your nests in my guts
breed there
be ready for the others when they, too, sink

in the eye of every storm
in the calm of morning sunset
the lightning of my dark being
strikes like no match ever could have

outfly me, you worms of the skies
rip apart my feeling of being one
make of me a sieve for blood
for no hearts will get through
there is nothing new under this sun of fire and ice

worms of this life
I won't beg you to carry me to forests under the first starlight
where judgement will be passed over this crime
and any who find their way there

(for it is a journey to be made beyond the veil
and with a far more radiant company
but once there I will arrange for you to be allowed to follow me
and you shall throw off your earthly disguise)