Photo: Enrique Tessieri The late evening streets of Buenos Aires bleed silently and I should be asleep and hide until day but I can’t. In my room, the keys of my typewriter are razors to the touch makng a short trip to hell and back. The night is alost at a standstill, now searchlights crisscross…
Category: Leo Honka
Migrant Tales Literary: Haluan olla perussuomalainen poliitikko!
Leo Honka Perussuomalaisena poliitikkona voin sanoa mitä tahansa milloin vaan,loukata ketä tahansaja nämä sanat eivät tule vainoamaan pahasti minua tulevaisuudessa.Miksi? Koska olen perussuomalainen poliitikko. Voin julkaista paljon rasistista roskaa kuten Jussi Halla-aho tekija tulla eduskunnan puhemieheksi.Voin jopa uhata tappaa maahanmuuttajanuoria junassa ja päätyä valtiovarainministeriksi.Voin sanoa paljon typeriä rasistisia asioita ja selvitä siitä kuten Riikka Purra.Sisäministeri…
Migrant Tales Literary: Mari Rantanen on ”tiukka rajatäti”
Leo Honka Sisäministerille on rautainen sydän hänen vihaa maistu raudalta. Rantanen pyrki luomaan itselleen mainetta polkemalla maahanmuuttajin, unohtaen samalla ihmisoikeudet. Hänen vihansa kohdistuu erityisesti ulkomaalaisin, erityisesti muslimeihin, sekä niihin, jotka eivät ole valkoisia tai EU-kansalaisia. Mari Rantanen on sisäministeri, jolla on rautainen sydän. Sisäministeri Mari Rantanen. Yle
Migrant Tales Literary: Juan and the mysterious stone
If you’re not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are oppressing and loving the people who are doing the oppressing. Malcolm X Juan is a seven-year-old boy who enjoys playing alone rather than with friends. He was known for his wild imagination. From a short distance he was playing in the…
Migrant Tales Literary: A father who is grand!
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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,…