ChristianAho
I've been writing poetry and lyrics all my life. My subjects are often surreal, introspective explorations of my mind and feelings.
Transportable Livable Tranquillity-Box of Concrete
By Christian Aho - 2012
A desolate man behind grey building number one is selling food, thought and rain.
”Into the dusk, I, into the ocean plungeth I”,
he shrieks while bolting hammers at a door.
”We could've been so much more, like fireflies to adore.”
He stops and says:
”Be a stillness not here with me I frown at dawn.”
His dream of more rain.
His song on the asphalt.
His song being sung to the clouds.
The feather of the sun.
First a warm feeling and then what a rain.
”Do you believe in magic now?”
He asks,
and a perfect hallucination withers on the wall.
”My heart is full of rage, my death is full of dreams.”
The way he gathered momentum was to collect truth when it rains:
”This danger spot I.”
Is a cold wind in the attic.
Is wrath when it stopps raining.
Is the sound of plastic bags withering.
Is the sound of the sun being the same.
Poetry
Bridge of Ideations
By Christian Aho - 2015
Dead like a dead man lying dead across the horizon
where dead men are not welcome anymore:
At the endless paths in time.
Never dead like a dead man being dead.
Never a head as dead as a dead head of a dead man.
The bridge of the dead crossing over to the dead side of a dead corridor
where the dead has risen to speak again:
”What you are living is not life, it is half life.”
Ursa Major
By Christian Aho - 2012
in a verbal way
forms from clay
A galaxy continues by as the arrow and the dead mourns the nebula.
The loudest noise is emptiness.
Beyond the unmeasurable twilight a crescendo descends unto the electrified field.
Two stars.
Name one of them.
Our deaths are levitated poles.
This is soil through which we advance twisted like a coil
in a universe of all love and compassion.
The deepening of blackened space.
I got nothing else to say except that when I die I hope to see more of it.
In zero gravity.
Meeting earth in orbit too.
When it's flying closer to the sun.
Akrasia
Av Christian Aho - 2015
Svenska / Swedish
(No translation yet)
Två till synes helt vanliga människor möts.
På två händer ställer sig den ena.
Den andre bär på önskedrömmen om en
oändligt förbättrad spegelbild.
På två väggar två skuggor som stirrar tillbaka på mig.
Den ena lägger en diamant i en tubsocka.
Den andra säger att klockan är mycket.
På två väggar bakom mig låt mig presentera mig.
Två separata besvikelser säger adjö till varann.
Två separata lungor kommer inte andas samma luft igen.
Två skiljepunkter som rör sig ifrån varann.
Men bara en av dom är splittrad.
You Soundbirds
By Christian Aho - 2015
A pledge that perplexed me,
a plague that renewed me,
a heamorrhage, a mutation,
a silence inside me.
You soundbirds, you.
You winged voices of you.
Find solemn solitude in profound solitude,
where beyond the mercury in the mirror
somewhere the load of everything must lie.
When raindrops fall they give away a sound,
some like the brightest keys of a piano,
some like sharp limpid notes on impact with the ground,
some resound on wood that is hollow,
some clatter roofs and windows giving sleep something profound.
Towers whistle as clouds blow by in the wind
and thunder severs a branch from a tree
and the broken back of another tree fades away.
These are mournful shadows of a fracture in time.
What awakens beneath the distant sunset looks like a roaring sound of empathy.
You soundbirds, you.
Find solemn solitude in profound solitude.
You are the gravest, you.
For love, for danger, for poison.
A knowledge inside me.
A juxt-a-posed position.
Is it a definition?
Here comes autumn again.