you only listen
when you hear the alcohol
talking — in anguish

The strongest will win—
Or the vilest within.
The rules stay the same,
Since we play the dumb game.


In Russian:

И пусть победит сильнейший!

Победит сильнейший,
То бишь, то подлейший:
Правила простые,
Коль мы столь! тупые.

Struggles falter, vain and hollow.
Strengthless crowds let evil follow.
Multiply it—what’s the score?
Fools and slaves forevermore.
"Bliss" in filth, in chains, in sorrow...


In Russian:

"Счастье"

Будут суетны усилия.
Их помножим на бессилие
Большинства и Зла всесилие.
Получается деб'илье
"Счастье" в рабстве, в Чуши, в Гнили...

You cannot conjure love at will
capture it like rain and drink your fill,
there is no pill to ease the pain and make you whole
no balm to calm the lonely soul,
for love is a seed we need to sow
and lasting flowers take time to grow

Cold and dark; sadness looms overhead umbrella-like,
Comforting, not.
Swallowing from within.
Yonder, the door opens and a light shines in.
Sadness flees as company beckons.

Sometimes I feel

I'm running out of time

Smiling but drowning in

Insecurity inside

Only with you, I don't have to hide

The only one in which

I confide

Complimenting everyone I meet

Actually meaning it is a rare feat

For I and all human beings

Are two sides of the same coin

What we show others and what we dont

On my walls hang two pieces of art;
large canvases boldly splashed
with colour, stroke upon stroke formed vivid arcs.

I wish I had kept my father's paintbrushes,
they were tools of masterpieces.
From them, my strokes could have made faces flush
and inspired songs and poetry; love?

*
But, perhaps ‘twas a blessing to create with unique expression and freedom.