Found this blog again. I've written new poems about this subject. Even new songs.
I guess I could start posting again.

The Affair

A lady stands in front of the window,

like she always does
and looks out at the street.


He is there,

quietly standing
under the streetlight.

A cliché.


She never wanted this to happen,
she didn't want to be trapped
inside the appartment,
trapped inside of her


love.


He breathes the cold, moist air
and lights a cigarette.

The tobacco leaves catches fire
slowly.

He
coughs.


She raises the glass and
drinks.

Bourbon burns her throat
but she doesn't care.

It's too early to complain
and too late to stop.

She watches him
smoking.


He looks up,

at the window.
A lady.

A lady so fine,
so delicate.

It's ages from his
last time.

Slowly he sucks the smoke in
and keeps his eyes up
at the lady.


She raises her hand
and takes a little cigar
from the purse
by the table

in front of the window.

She lights it
and blows a
thick smoke cloud.

As the smoke clears
she sights and opens

the window.


He throws the cigarette away
and crosses the street.

He takes the keys
she gave him
and opens the door.

She unlocks the
door leading to the appartment

sits down

at
the
lounge

and drinks.

I Was Only 16

It was in the cover of True Crime.
I was only 16 years old.

They walked slowly in the street
as I was heading towards home.

I was only 16 years old.

Quietly they appeared behind her,
like shadows they dragged her in the
alleyway.

I froze and I couldn't move.

Screams, cries of help.

I was only 16.

I started to run.

I ran as fast as I could.

"POLICE! POLICE!"
I screamed from
the top of my lungs.
"POLICE! POLICE!"

I can't remember how long I ran.
I saw a tall man with a uniform.

"What's wrong son?"
can't remember his face.

"A murder, or a rape!
16th street!"

And the running started again.
To the vehicle,
it felt like forever
to start the engine.

I was only 16 years old.
She was only 18.

"Oh dear God!"
the investigation went on
years.

It was in the cover of True Crime.
And I..
I was only 16.

Moira Smithin Kyyneleet

Yksinäisyys

Se ei loppujen
lopuksi ole

muuta kuin

välttämättömyys
joka seuraa
jokaista rakastavaa
olentoa.

Yksinäisyys,
siihen ansaan
minä putosin
eläessäni sinun
kanssasi.

Rakastaessani
jokaista
virhettäsi.
Ymmärtäessäni
kelvottomuuttasi.

Mustasukkaisuus.

Se seuraa
yksinäisyyttä
niin kuin
Läski-Joen
miehet seuraavat
sitä amerikan-
italialaista
nyrkkeilijää
joka ei maksanut
velkaansa.

Mustasukkaisuus.

Sinä tulet,
sinä menet,
minä...

Minä odotan.
Odotan että
pyyhkisit
kämmenselällä
yksinäisyyden
ja mustasukkaisuuden
rippeet poskiltani

mutta
tiedän
ettet
tule

vaan menet
sinne,
jonkun luo.

Jonkun, jonka syli
on pehmeämpi,
lämpimämpi,
tuoksuvampi
kuin minun.

Ja se helvetin
belladonna
ei edelleenkään auta

Slow Murder

Oh please tell them it's not easy.
It's not easy to be bad.
I don't like to be evil, it's just
the way I'm.
Oh please tell them it's not pleasing.
It's not pleasing to hurt.
I just can't help myself with this.
I have born to be bad.
Oh please tell them it's not easy.
It's not easy to kill.
A beauty just like you
deserves to live.

And how much I try to resist this,
voice in my head which tells me to shoot.
How much I try stop my fingerf
rom pulling this trigger.

Oh please tell them it's not easy.
It's not easy to murder.
When your perfume still tinkles
and makes me think further.
Oh please tell them it's not pleasing.
It's not pleasing to regret.
What I've done will stay forever
and I know I can't forget.
Oh please tell them it's not easy.
It's not easy to confess.
Your freedom still haunts me
though you're now lifeless.

And how much I tried to resist it,
voice in my head which told me to shoot.
How much I tried stop my finger
from pulling the trigger.

Oh please tell them it's not easy.
It's not easy to be killer.
And in the death of the night
a loud bang fills the room.

To Susan Cooper

Three minutes to midnight,

You said
when we were waiting for him.

Three minutes to midnight.

No names,

we are nobodies
in the death of the night

waiting for him.

Count me in your league

I insisted and followed you
down to the riverside.

You told me to shut my mouth
and wait.

Three minutes to midnight

and nobody is coming.
Now I regret taking
some extra pills.

Three minutes to death.

Your
blood
stained
my hands.

The Bikers Wife

So
You asked me to
understand
your job

and the
difficulties
you may face

when you
go on
in the night.

No
I'm not angry
but it is hard
to be alone
when children
are asking
'Where did
daddy go?'

As I realized
that your job
is more important
than your loving
family

I left you
a note:

'You can drive your damn bike
whole night but don't wait
for me to be home when
you come back.

I took the children to
grandma. You can take them home
or leave them to her.

Elaine'

Grandma got
an angry
phone call.

I'm in
Berlin.

I'm doing
fine.