poem

Bubble of class

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Stunned faces of sheltered buns; what, are you afraid of, rage? Safe from harm is what you are not. Wait and see.

Crisis everyday yesterday and today. Nature will solve them in its own way. How do we solve them? What kind of responsibility do we have?

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Heavy winds. Nature of crisis. Is it an attitude question how we measure and define what is the quality of a disaster? For who and what has happened. The scale of downfall, accident or deliberate ill doing. What kind of catastrophes are we expecting since it is before our eyes, the worst ever in plural form and  complexity. Disposable I love u’s and have a-nice-days. Get a new one.

Nature is in crisis always, at the brink of chaos. We like to rock the boat even further. It will grow back, nature. How long does it take for plastic to be decomposed? I repeat because it cannot be emphasized enough. We are what we produce and use, we like things to elevate us. It is also the key to the fantasy world of products and services made with sellable images. And how we produce. How indeed.

For those who have no one

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Love is always there in the air. It is there to be grabbed. As much as one can, but does one grab air, what is there. Persuasion, seduction, grabbing, taking, touching, trying to get hold of it, the feeling and own it, because it feels good.
It is a cruel thing to say, in a way, it is up to you.
To think, that affection, trust and caring would be available like a natural resource. They are, in a way,
natural and seen as human behavior to care. Is it to take advantage, ferociously, demanding one to flourish.
In a way, to love is an invented game of survival, complex plan of wanting to be wanted. Something to master and know, but still fail at it. Not be defeated by it. There is no direct path to get what one wants.
Something we are born to do constantly is want. What is to have no one? Who is one, anyone to have?
I am. I have me.

Everything is irritatingly misplaced

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Two old ladies talking behind me in the bus about weather, ”how it is so warm today: ” how little green things are appearing, tulips and things like that”. Aroma of something burned. But I felt empathy and warmth in their wornout fragile voices which I liked. I felt sun through the glass. Microg. and chewable tablets.

Dropped Socialist angel: What is this place? It is Sign of Storm.

| Henna Timanttimetsä

White headed body in the shadow of a platform, taking steps in rapid pace to direction of something in the dark. There is no light other that the ones of the train, lit from inside out.

Demonizing, structure of contempt. It turns out to be flaw of the r. She created a life for me in her mind. Her fingers pressed against her cheeks.

| Henna Timanttimetsä

 

El Moaour, the bottomless, the terrible. Compulsive need to fill to be filled. How about movement? What became of the abandoned one. She has to be punished because she wants it all. What happens if you give all freedom to female sexuality?

What is real?

| Henna Timanttimetsä

To take a dip into hellish visual reality, attacked by refined junk. Negativity in the absolute positive push. Finished, perfected, brushed and polished images.

Natura – Secrets of women

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Vulva is a door. It is a sow and woman riding it. She lifting her skirt with dagger in her hand. Sight chases the demons away. Pit of chastity, of virtue, entry, passage way, vestibule, horns of Uterus, Fallobian tubes, Interforamireum, space between two holes. Genitalis Mueliebris Ambitus. There was a time when female genitalia had no shame, women didn’t have to be ashamed of their body.

What is written on your face?

| Henna Timanttimetsä

The hideous moment of not knowing, wonder the moment of wonder, of blue, what is the not knowing? Is there such a moment or is it not finding?