Cry.
Don’t cry,
Do not hang your head, my neighbors.
You cannot choose when you die,
When your woes are straining,
The careful muffled sound of heartbreak
Of the deep silence of the souls.
A giant **** in his own backyard,
It is “ride or die”.
And you can choose how you die.
And nothing more, and nothing more.
And we’re no more, and we’re no more.
But be alive, alive and only,
Alive and only to the end.
Wind, keep singing for them, do not wane,
And in it, now forever.
Arise, arise now, brother-soldier.
Freedom is never free.
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 10:38 AM UTC
In your heart, in my heart
I had sung an ancient song to you.
And then I wrote in blood, within my soul. Death is but a wisp of shadow,
where no one is.
O Lady,
awake, awake...
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 9:14 AM UTC
Cold January. Heated furnace.
And you, my dear, refuse to sleep.
I think of you.
And lights across the window sweep,
And droplets freeze upon its surface.
My eyes meet yours. We dim the lights.
And suddenly, as one, we’re breathing
My hands, around you, interweaving,
I recollect the gone by nights.
My heart is burning, raging wild.
You place, your hand upon my chest.
Confess, softly whisper, “child...”
Only the silence when I can’t deny it.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 10:46 AM UTC
The best place for writing poetry is sit by a river.
especially when leaving a loved one,
if you know she’ll go back there eventually,
in some week, in a month, or a year, you would be able
to write with a loudest mind
but you must
know you’ll never see her,
and so it’ll be merely a monologue
Begin the poem with separation,
writing,
selflessly giving it everything in you
out of selfishness, out of need for sympathy.
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 12:56 AM UTC
My darkest art is different shades of the same color.
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
I wasted my nights writing;
till there was no lead in the pen
when I started reading my verses,
I imagined myself in a large auditorium,
in front of a single person.
because I wanted to make her love me.
With her bottomless loving eyes
as she refused to give it up willingly,
So I wasted my nights writing;
I didn’t know how to love her.
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 11:51 AM UTC
Neither side won,
neither side lost.
How many people are there
whose wishes have been so answered?
Voters like me who seemed to have had their way,
Sit down, ******
pack your bags
and prepare to depart the Oval Office.
The future is ours.
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
I’m from...
I’m from the Volga, serene and majestic
from the hands of the clocks that were moving too slow,
from the grip of the woman that was holding my hand,
from the innocent glance, from the dirt on the asphalt.
From Lenin, Karl Marx, Nietzsche,
from Pushkin, Okudzhava, Brodsky and Mayakovsky,
from the dust on the bookshelves turned gold in the light,
and the country that nursed me that dissolved in my sight.
From the triples threat stance: pass, shoot and attack
from the bully that tested my patience
from the sounds that blasted from the radio station
from the college where I searched for my place
from the choices I’ve made and felt no regret
from cigarette smoke that dissolved in the night
to discipline to write my thoughts
from the house I loved and the rural towns I left,
from the image I saw when I looked at myself,
from Emma to Lazarus, from our sunset gates shall stand
to the moment where everything froze in suspense.
And so, gentle reader, enjoy
And welcome to my original.
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 7:02 AM UTC
There were three women in my life.
The first
from Volga winters, mud mixed with snow
A gentle wind and I appeared.
And rocked me in her arms,
A the hole in the fence of the house where I went
And when the sun on my back
to force myself to let go of her hand.
The second one were taken from my rib-cage,
from my rib,
my heart beats with new passion.
Two lone shadows intertwined
cuddling like two gray pigeons
I waiting for her
or did she wait for me?
And when I awoke,
she was still sleeping and sublime,
just as the day she asked me for a smoke
And to this day, she has me mesmerized.
The third one sparkled like a dowry in herself
I observe her,
she makes my patience
from the books I’d read every night in my head
When the evening sky descends,
Stars will shine
to ensure that all her dreams
Stay divine
Now the same three precious fires
in all the beauty that was revealed to me
And I will love her till the end of time.
Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 10:44 PM UTC
A rose,
lay motionless under the river
And the love opened the book
until my echo becames flesh.
In the dark nights,
the stars coming
Your name resounded far away
A rose,
lay motionless in the dark night
if you don't awakens
I will leave my heart cold by your side.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 4:47 AM UTC