Crossville Skyline and all the Romance

A view from our Kallvik balcony in 2012, hiding more than it reveals. The park hidden behind the trees is called Mustakivenpuisto (Blackstone park), and the sky belongs to Rastila (in English one could say Crossville). But it is a vague reference, because the houses visible are in Kallvik and only the horizon takes the watcher to another kind of X.X.X.X. There is also a meaningful shape drawn on the ground below, unseen to the eye in this picture, but concrete as logic in holy geometry, and referring to something truthful, as well (a triangle, with two open triangles on its sides and a square on top). I came to know what it feels like to be in somebody else's visionary dreams, taken into another individual's consciousness and plans. Ever since, I've been even more careful with my own poetry, and the ones I write about. God knows what's good and right for others.

The title reminds of a duet I like, with Johnny Cash giving a beautifully conservative edge to Bob Dylan's 1960s folk protest ways. I'm an old-timer and my views are like that, in part at least. For I've always been an oppressive kind of guy, too. I'd like to underline it's making the cross heavier. Maybe that's why I like to see them get (along) together, these differing views and times. We are on a forward march, and there is no going back. However, the spirit of truth..... 

"Malta, Valletta, in October 2011. So, there is a right time and a right place for everything. If I had gone to Malta before, I would not have liked it the way I did. Had I gone later, it may not have been the same, either. This was the hour for that place. Maybe there will be another time. But some things will never change. These photos are nothing but stills from the sunshine and the romance of Malta."

"There is a whole story and quite a different reality behind them as well. During the fall of that year I thought I was going to break down. But somehow I didn't. This was not the first time I've been in trouble, but it made it to my all time top three list of 'breakdance'."

"Courage in Malta, with my back against the wall. I stood there in the city built by gentlemen for gentlemen, as Walter Scott so eloquently put it. Churchill said Malta must be kept no matter what. Hitler wanted the island at all cost, but the fortress witheld. I saw Francis Ford Coppola's film Youth without youth just a few weeks before my journey. For blessed Gerard."

The three romantic quotes above were written and published on this very site a long ago, then taken out and now replaced, as time ever flows on and on, in a circle, a line and even beyond itself. Pictures taken by Antti Filppu and Laura Vilva.

A meeting (place) & lovers

The end of July in 2016, captured by Laura Vilva. The place is called Sigvartsby, an old village near Hamina, where my parents live and where I spent my early youth in misery and pain. This picture tries to speak. It is the Master of the Mandolin, Tomi Pekkola, on the right. I am next to him, and we are playing Love itself or maybe Suzanne, on a garden party. My little sister Laura is on the left with my little daughter.

One theme could be the bed where I had my first kiss of love. The room has a view over this garden and the apple trees. But it's not what I want to tell now. My little brother, who was born the next morning (in May 1995), told me a story about KISS. Paul Stanley said in an interview that sometimes the musing and the poetic atmosphere seem to be at odds with the reality. A good song could be written on a very thin story. The muse may be someone who only exchanges a few words with the poet, or just a glance. Neither does this mean that a poet who writes the song is caught up in it (although it could happen).

This was my little brother's response to my whining. I had told him about my guitar, how it was named after St. Anne. There is a Lady of Romance, too. But only as a memory of the ballad of a thin man that happened to receive another verse or three. In the beginning of 2010 I was finishing my old collection of poetry (Flor & Blancheflor), and I walked the streets of Helsinki when someone passed by, who may have been the one whose initials were mentioned in a poem called The Thin Young Men. I sent her e-mail, telling about my poem and the initials. She did not respond. To my surprise, I'd soon receive a name for my new guitar, two alternative verses for Suzanne, and a part of the poem called Beautiful (detached from the original TYM). After a year or so I searched her out on the internet and realized a few odd synchronicities that seemed to relate to my songs and performances. I went too many times to see her (open access) profiles. The irony is, I made a clear decision not to approach her "in real life", because it could be trespassing already. Then a f(r)iend of mine wanted to take me along to see her, they had some business to deal with. This happened on the same day I'd give Virta 8 magazine's final version to Unigrafia printing house. When we met her I smiled in a foolish way, not saying anything or even introducing myself. She did not tell me anything, either, only introduced herself by name. They had a private discussion and after that my f(r)iend accused me of stalking. In vain I tried to tell him about "meaningful coincidences" (the poem with her initials would be printed after the meeting that never happened). Another reason behind this nonsense is that she was the one who gave me that image of Tryst, a meeting (place) of lovers, already in 2003. She had been like a muse, and I never understood why or how it came to be that way. Because we only met a few times, and pretty much nothing ever happened. Well, you know what..... Poetry is like that.