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3.1k · May 2022
to catch a star
Maria Shabalin May 2022
she's gone like the stars in the morning time
a few left to make you smile
never enough to overwhelm.
she's fine like the sweet escape of time
they call her name
she says i'm running away.
she's felt so deep
like a trench where soldiers laid
so awful it was to lay with them.
she's kind as flowers are pink
sometimes they are
and sometimes you have to look inside.
she's rough like jagged stones
beach hair tousled from the breeze
"baby," she says "come back to me."
she's sick of deception
who knows her name
"please get away from me" says she.
she's me.  
cant you see?
i'm feeling more calm
Maria Shabalin Apr 2023
I felt a wave of love from the trees,
Green in their growth and sweet in their fruit.
I simply asked, "Would you help me wipe away this soot?
The soot that clings to my heart and darkens all that should feel lovely."

They said, "Come near and take a seat.
Can you feel our roots growing beneath?
Will you intertwine your breath with mine?
And when you weep, will you touch the soil and feel our heartbeat?"

To the giants of the land, I replied,
"I can feel your love, know your knowledge, and see your vision.
You are the serenity that bridges earth and sky,
While I am but a morsel of your magic that will surely pass before you die.

The power you possess in your filtering form
Creates life for those who here are born.
But I ask, who will you be when you return
to the sacred place we all deeply yearn?"
I wish we loved trees as much as they love us.
1.5k · Apr 2023
The Great Gig in the Sky
Maria Shabalin Apr 2023
Nothing makes the chatter stop
Drop your gun and take it from the top
My head, my hands, my legs, my feet
What would be left if I went to meet
the great gig in the sky,
all those that came before that never die?
Would they look at me as crazed?
Would they tell me that I had wisdom beyond my days?
I will never know because I'm bound to grow
Here where greed is ripe, where liars hide
Sat firmly in the great cosmic ride
I was listening to Pink Floyd. I avoided listening for so long because of the painful memories associated, but I couldn't hide much longer. I opened the flood gates, and here we are. A poem, tears, and longing for a better world.
1.4k · Jan 2021
No time
Maria Shabalin Jan 2021
I travel back and forth
In this existence.
I see a queen
Perched on a rock.
Confident she sits
Knowing the future
Not sharing it all.
The apple of her existence
Is not hers for the taking.
It is teased in front of her eyes.
Consumption and proclamation
“I am the ruler and not you.”
What is she to do?
She sits perched on a rock.
This poem is about an encounter I had with my spirit guide. She knows everything that will happen in my life, but she has no control over what I do. We are the masters of our existence.
1.1k · May 2021
Belonging
Maria Shabalin May 2021
Distant shores of France,
Toward you I advance,
Looking for your water.
The sun seems to beam down,
Oppressing the nearby town,
Where I sit talking to a doctor's daughter.
Her clothing looks so chic,
I dare the boy next to me to speak,
Enchanting him with my eyes.
Dare I say this is my place,
I run around the forest with haste,
Expecting a strange man to become wise.
I feel safe at the stump of a tree,
Imagining a family of three
Beautiful birds chirping in the sunlight.
What will happen to me when I get gray and old?
Will I remember the stories I once told,
The ones that brought me joy and fright?
I guess we will just have to see,
Go along with the processes that be,
Dreaming of our youth when it has gone.
I will always admire the country,
Looking upon the sea and its bounty,
Alongside the doctor's daughter until dawn.
I really want to visit France.
974 · Feb 2022
Harbor Lights
Maria Shabalin Feb 2022
These streets are awake
The lights offer a path to follow
Look up and not down to see
The treetops and brims of sky
Look out to see the painted houses
Of brick and melted yellow
Nowhere to be seen is order
The chaos is what makes it
Beyond words, beyond eyes.
It houses nostalgia of youth
It fears and celebrates death.
This city is mine but not for long
How I'll miss its descendants
Its language of old
The battered, the beaten
All the untold
Brooklyn. My city, my home. I hated you for so long- only because I could not find the strength to find the beauty within me. Brooklyn, you're alright;)
Maria Shabalin Dec 2022
I saw the life in the trees
Looked past death’s taxes and fees
Crept into locked corridors to see
Nothing could catch up with me

Control kept hands off of my heart
Past baggage away I would cart
Seasons blessed the shadows of the moon
All the while I was becoming the neighborhood loon

Reality kicked my side one day in June
Days of bliss dragged until it was too soon
I realized love was never floating around
And just like that I wanted to be put in the ground
708 · Jun 2022
8ball
Maria Shabalin Jun 2022
Feel my heart’s attention
You can hear it
Buried deep, pounding like thunder
Thun, thun, done.
Done are the days where I’ve loved you
So few they seemed
Hours onto hours
Then nothing complete
Done are the days of this youthful mourning
So little of love was seen.
from my diary 2 years ago
619 · Feb 2021
Youthful learning
Maria Shabalin Feb 2021
Golden buildings and cypress trees
Information that held the soul
Intact and nurtured we would go
To the place to learn the art.
It was not about the test,
This understanding would rest,
Forever lingering about us.
Quickly breathing in the morning
A chilly cycle of the afternoon.
A warm smile in the corner
A straight face in the corridor
A moment with you would
make it all better.
Tell me you got that letter
I sent to the back of class.
This poem details my senior year of high school. I would ride my bright blue bike to school on the chilly winter mornings, past the golden buildings and the cypress tree next to the water. After my last class, which was art history, I would do it all over again- all the way home. Best year of my life.
586 · Feb 2021
Desire
Maria Shabalin Feb 2021
Desire I have to be a great,
Desire, lost and won.
I have it in my heart,
For in my many lives I have seen
What treacheries come about
When it may run deep.
I know this place feels foreign,
For I am of seventeen.
I have not made a home,
And there is none to be seen.
Desire for a home arises,
And I must put it away,
For love of all things is to
The poets dismay.
We all love desire, and,
We desire to die,
For we do not know,
Or, perhaps do not have
The means to live.
Desire is the root of all suffering.
568 · Aug 2021
Lunatic
Maria Shabalin Aug 2021
Here I am months later pining over a memory
A false hope I had made into a fantasy
I made the future in a cold white room
Where I faced my demons but avoided doom
I screamed I am afraid of the dark
Even though the fluorescent lights created the brightest spark
My delusions formed in an instant
I saw your face and an infant
The room became familiar
Only a second later was it sinister
They laid me down in a cross
I gained security, there was no loss
I know this means nothing to you
However, all of it is true.
I’m neurodivergent so how can I possibly conform? #daliandIdreamtogether
567 · May 2022
sacred sunshine wept
Maria Shabalin May 2022
Created out of my own imagination
It surely was not real
Running towards the dilapidated station
Of spacious spectacular zeal.
Like a butterfly wanting its cocoon
I want for the embrace of what I've made
The future feelings to come taken too soon
With confirmation of sickness on a *****.
I have dealt the deck many times
But to wonder what you have become
Is like watching paint dry.
I have seen so much and known so little
I understand now that all we need is care.
Care for me with the embrace I seek
Care for me like ships gently caressed
floating on the ocean's surface
And I will give you eternal life
Just say the magic words
I do , I do , I do.
Let the crevices of your mind fill with light
Truth becomes souls inside a blockade  
If not for your love and understanding
That I am who I am
And you are nothing but my lover.
What is really real? Not much. However, reality is under my thumb. Will I tell you my truth? You sure know I will. What's there to lose? I live in a concrete jungle and I want to go home.
514 · Mar 2021
Mendacious
Maria Shabalin Mar 2021
I threw my cigarette in your luggage
Thinking it was trash
How was I supposed to know
That you had become so attached
To belongings in a case
That will eventually disintegrate?
Turning my grandad’s hilarious misdoings into philosophy. He can’t see very well. Tried to throw his cigarette out in my aunt’s carry on.
473 · Jan 2021
Black Magic Woman
Maria Shabalin Jan 2021
Lemon sultry cake in spring
Where does our love begin?
With a hand or with a fume?
There goes our blessed moon.
And what of our painted lady?
Do we choose not to worship?
Come back again to our lives,
Sweet summer of pride.
We want what you hold.
408 · May 2022
Numb
Maria Shabalin May 2022
Hey you,
I'm numb.
I cannot go to the deep end
of that black lagoon no more.
I do not see the final place-
that ever elusive distant shore.
Oh, runner of the misty mountain
that I gaze upon to understand faith,
Where does sacrifice come-
come and change?
Beautiful people in turns
of feeling down.
I want to put on my
dusty crown.
Where did it go for so long?
Behind the wall.
Perhaps, buried under it all.
I needn't say too much because words create a hollow place in my heart. It was they that broke me.
354 · Jan 2021
Fields
Maria Shabalin Jan 2021
I seek the meadow within—
It lies there covered in mud.
It’s fragrance of the June summer,
My, how I wish we could meet more often.
I run my hand through you,
Your everlasting green,
And drink your blue.
Crystal coast you seem to be,
I’ll forever run with you.
I wish I could be with my meadow all the time, but it seems depression takes over my mind.
333 · Apr 2023
Drunk In LA
Maria Shabalin Apr 2023
Mystified by your absence
What will make us come alive again?
Years of perdition in a hole of vacant eyes
Try to find me, try to see me
Will you recognize that face in the mirror?
Listening to music, scribbling some signals
318 · May 2022
im an artist, happy?
Maria Shabalin May 2022
The fumes from my paintings are making me high
or am i feeling that feeling you keep chasing
wait, did you just whisper to me that we
share that goal of chasing highs
no not of chasing but of being
in love with one another
maybe im just crazy
slowly coming to
nothing but a
single word
children.
you get what you get and you don't get upset
Maria Shabalin May 2021
Send me away to Moscow or Vienna
To avoid the collapse of an era
You never did ask me
How it was I felt about being free?  
Everyday slaving away to find the comfort
Of a bottle in a set of three
Walking through the night
Followed by screams of ‘I am right’
The vision you seek is narrow and tainted
Do you not see that Life is what is painted?
Look beyond yourself when you are sailing
Remember that instead of failing
To think of me when you are liberated
From the bonds of the antiquated
My faith in you does dwindle
We circle around within a spindle  
The thread getting torn
Moving farther into the forlorn
What about childhood did not feel right?
Instead of loving me we fight
We can walk hand in hand
And play like children in the sand
If you would only apologize
And throw out this awful guise  
We can sway like poppies in the summer
Quietly holding onto each other
That is what I long for
For without you life is just a bore
Old beliefs and hard drinking do not create a symphony. My words to you when you hurt me ring true like a melody. Hear it and you will know that a poem is not for the suffering soul. That is the truth to the prevailing myth of the Poet.
Maria Shabalin Aug 2023
I lie here, thinking of you,
As I often do.
This time, however, I realized it might not be true—
The dream I have of us, where you wear red and I wear blue,
As a symbolic representation of our spiritual hues.
It can't possibly be real; that which constantly plays in my head.
The idealized form exists in the mind, but when materialized, it's just a bunch of pale roses in the garden bed.
There's not enough water to keep them red,
The sun doesn't shine brightly enough, and they fail to live up to what was said.
"They will be so beautiful, they will be so nice."
But the months go by, only for their sweet fragrance to be trapped in winter's ice,
And I think even if our love does compare to what's in my mind,
It won't last a lifetime.
Does that dissuade me from pursuing you?
Not entirely, though it leaves me confused.
Why do I follow what will be bruising, when I could sit and forever peruse,
The depths of my imagination, the stories I've told,
In an effort to construct the perfect love with my mirroring soul.
Haven’t written in a while.
201 · Dec 2022
Subterranean Homesick Alien
Maria Shabalin Dec 2022
Pretty people I don’t really care for
Beds I don’t make
Souls that walk barefoot
Or people that are bare
I can’t hug a stranger
For someone might be led astray
A curse or a blessing
It’s not up to me to say
They always say it’s up to god
But god doesn’t make much sense
I only know myself
And even that I can’t explain
Maria Shabalin Nov 2022
Euphoria spellbinding me into complacency
Makes a dream of liberation
Too far to become reality
A carousel spinning while I sit still
Finding myself captive
Not against my own will
Colors that placate the mind
Glitter seeming sound like gold
Silver linings that I may never find
One may tell me and never be told  
These days that hold me prisoner
Distracted, divisive, and dead
My arms that feel heavier
When I wake from a dreaming bed  
How I wish to know true freedom
For captivity I breathe in still
Confined by the early stardom
And running from a future bill
155 · May 2022
Sacred Synchronicity
Maria Shabalin May 2022
I see the same car everywhere,
I am passing it I say,
I entertain that its not fair,
Then I look away.
Things that I don't want to see,
But I can't escape,
All the things that used to be,
I've shoved behind the drape.
It is all a show after all,
Can't you understand?
The forces that are mighty and tall,
Are scheming from another land.
You are but a pawn in the game,
However, do not be discouraged,
Your angels are not to blame,
They are the reason it is far you've journeyed.
Everything will be explained,
When you arrive home,
All the things that drive you mad,
will finally leave you to roam.
No, it is not mistake,
No, it's not just in your head,
The events that occur when you're awake,
Are as planned as blood is red.
I experience a lot of things that are not just mere coincidence. Following my mystical logic, everything I see is divinely guided and planned. What is the purpose of seeing things from my past that remind me of things I've long ago packed away? I don't know. Do I feel annoyed and sometimes not at ease because of synchronicities? Yes. Well, here we are. A poem.
149 · Jan 2021
Live
Maria Shabalin Jan 2021
To live is to know one's heart
And to see one’s soul as theirs.
Another one in another year
No, they are not replaced
Only this physical form disintegrates.
But on and on goes on the soul
In different outfits forward step.
Let go of all the suffering
For love is so adept
To see the tears of a beautiful child.
You heralded yourself in such a way that no one could come close.
You sought your outcome in a bed of women with knives in their socks.
I see who you are.
Your eyes are empty sockets that see light in the dark,
Because your mind has imagined it all.
*******. I can’t believe you’re alive. I see a corpse.

— The End —