By Leo Honka Memories turn to stone when men age inside hats Taking them off for added warmth past days somersaulting, turning themselves upside down atop your unruly gray hair, half-asleep – whispering how you’ve aged! Tossed and navigated through the years of your life How many of those days did you cast overboard? And
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Migrant Tales Literary: Autumn darkness and the midnight sun
By Leo Honka Deep in the forests of Savo, darkness is not always darkness but a state of mind that has learned to remain an image. In such places, time comes and goes but never leaves; its magic maintains you balanced like a trapeze artist without falling thanks to heart-filled joyous moments of memories once
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Fatima
Leo Honka Who is Fatima? Who is the person wishing us from the Joutseno immigration removal center a kind, “Good night. Loved ones.” Fatima is only a name. It houses no human because it is only a name written on paper by a plane dropping bombs, a tank shelling civilians, and a woman hoping for
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Argentinean dirty war odyssey
Leo Honka Cemetery silence emerging from the ashes of death next to gagged cobblestone streets and I should be asleep but I just can’t. The keys of my typewriter glowing red-hot are razor-sharp to the tuouch. The night is at a standstill, now searchlights are combing the state of siege a few high-pitched sirens screaming
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Cold Turkey Night
Leo Honka* Outside, near winter’s home I stand Leaning against the night All alone Listening to hallucinations Popping from silence and stance. It’s a cold night of thick gloves and clothes A night no one should stand outside too long For sidewalks and streets Solemn and silent Are asleep and lead nowhere. Only a winter’s
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Anti-Perussuomalaiset poetry – an eye for an eye
No room for words today! Said the Finns Party politician that racist fascist hypocrite angry as hell yelling at the top of its voice: Give me a light, scum! Lighting its cigarette soon thumbs, hands, arms and other body parts melt and splash to the ground. In my hidout after that affair the police,
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Riikka Purra, where is your heart?
THIS POEM WAS UPDATED Where is your heart, Riikka Purra? Did you throw it away in a trash can? Or did you hungrily devour it after you saw your first refugee The bricks that line your political path will turn red hot and melt your shoe soles; even if you can only be tall for
Read on »Migrant Tales Literary: Would you buy a used car from PS’ Timo Soini?
Timo Soini is chairman of the nationalist populist Perussuomalaiset (PS)* party. After the most recent opinion polls showed that the political future of the PS is bleak to say the least, what will Soini do after his party returns to the minor political leagues? Will he start to sell used cars?
Read on »Finland also locks up asylum seeker children
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- A child in the Joutseno Immigration Removal Center.
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