Poem: Smoke

poems, Uncategorized, war

I used to smoke
And then I stopped
And then I am back to it
Where nothing feels like in control
It gives me pause
It gives me a few seconds in between inhales
To take in beauty of the world
The same odd moment
In which I feel my body poisoned
Just as much
As much as our little precious world
I then feel like I am part of it…

Poem: три месяца войны/three months of war

poems, Uncategorized, war

Три месяца войны,

Как одна ночь прошли,

Сломав миллионы жизней и судеб.

Три месяца войны – кровавой, беспощадной,

В которой люди безвольно в волков превращены,

Под властью безаконных судей…

Три месяца войны,

В которой гибнут чьито дети,

В которой гибнут старики…

Три месяца войны,

На ту что весь мир смотрит,

Войны идейной, самой страшной,

Войны построенной на лжи.

Три месяца войны…

Three months of war ,

Like one night passed,

Breaking millions of lives and destinies.

Three months of war – bloody, merciless,

In which people are turned into wolves,

Under the rule of lawless judges…

Three months of war,

In which someone’s children die,

Where old people fall…

Three months of war,

The one that the whole world is watching,

Ideological one, the worst of all,

Wars built on lies.

Three months of war…

Poem: день победы/victory day

poems, Uncategorized, war

Объясните за что мы воюем,
И когда же закончится это ад?
И когда важнее всего будут люди,
А не земли кусочек и чужой власти крах?

Объясните мне гражданину простому,
За что мы так горько должны платить,
Объясните за что ,сыновья и отцы должны жизнь свою положить,
За что матери должны горевать,
Ну а дети – за что?

Защищаться? Враги? От кого?
Kулаками, ракетами,
Не выходят в чужую жизнь
Не корячут и бьют – за мир.

Как же жаль стариков, что боролись,
Что жили и пали – подарить нам спокойный мир.
Все проср**и – как страшно.

Ну конечно, другой виноват.
Вы же нас не судите напрасно,
Нас ведет наш всеславный и мудрый Царь,
Наш владитель державы прекрасной –
И конечно нас тоже прижали,
Нас же вынудили – ну как могли?

Вспоминайте пожалуйста, что учили детям
‘Победителей нет в войне’.
Вспоминайте пожалуйста, что нет победы
Где расплатой нам будет смерть.

Please explain me the reason for fight?
And when this hell will be finally over?
When the most crucial thing will be people
Instead of the power and lands.

Just explain, please, to me, simple citizen,
Why one has to pay so dearly?
Please explain why the sons and the fathers should lay their life,
Why the mothers should cry,
And the children – why?
Please explain…

To protect ourselves? From enemies? Who?
With the fists, rockets,
No-one should walk into other’s life,
No-one should break and beat – for peace.

What a pity for those, our dear old, fighting,
Living and dying – to give us a a peaceful world.
We now fuck**d it up – how scary.

But of course, its the other’s fault,
Don’t you judge us for no reason.
We are led by our glorious and wise Tzar,
Who will look after our empire,
And of course, we were pushed a bit,
Provocative enforces – they made us, you see?

Please remember the lessons for children you gave,
There are no winners in any war.
Please remember, there is no victory,
Where we have to pay with the blood.

Poem: The list

poems, Uncategorized, war

There is this list, of things I am worried gone forever
Because of war.
A peaceful long night sleep
A smile without heaviness
Perhaps, my home the way I saw it last
And opportunity
To walk as freely as I could on streets I know
To talk, to share, laugh
With friends, with those who understand, hold hope that we can build a better future…

To see and hug my mum, to talk without politics, without hate
To see the graves, sit by my grandparents side again, to cry and talk…

To hug my cat, to lie in bed, to eat my mother’s breakfast
To take a plane, to walk through borders with no fear of someone asking who you are, what you believe in…

To hear words of kindness, truth and beauty
I really wish so much to see and feel those things again….

To truly, know, believe that good will always win
That truth will always heal
That music will be playing
About happiness, not pain
And we will dance, together.

Poem: My mother


Every time I see pictures of the dead bodies,
I think of my mother.
Every time I hear about another war crime,
I think of my mother.
Every time I see tears,
I think of my mother.
I think of my mother,
Who thinks that one day this will lead to good,
Who thinks that one day someone will come and say ‘thanks’,
Who thinks that seventy, seventy percent are with them,
Which means they are right.

My mother who was so afraid –
‘What if the west just had attacked us?’
‘They have been preparing it for years little you know’ -she’d say,
‘Those chemical factories, Nazis – we had to protect ourselves!’.

Every time my heart aches,
My mind breaks,
I think of my mother,
My mother, who cannot see that our future and that of millions of sons and daughters are ruined just now, here and then,
For what?

‘I cannot come home anymore, mother, they won’t let me be free’
‘Why? I don’t think it is true’
‘Our president said that we are betrayers’
‘Oh, no – that’s wasn’t about you!’

Another day of war,
Lost lives – tragedy known for many – obvious one.
I think of my mother ,
Who thinks we are saviors,
Tit for tat preachers,
‘People will thank us – one day, you will see’, she says

Poem: I thought I knew

poems, Uncategorized, war

I thought I knew what the pain is,
I thought it is to be left brokenhearted by someone you love/trust,
I thought it is saying goodbye to a friend, to my mother, whom I see so rarely.
I thought the pain was to stand, to hug in the airport and make promise to be back soon again, when you both know it will be years…
I thought the pain was to be homesick, lonely, not noticed in a big world,
I thought that pain was to lose someone young, someone old, to death…
To stand surrounded by others and mourn another lost life while mourning ours.
Little I knew about pain…

The pain could be somehow the one for all of us, held in a tiny heart of one person, the pain can be heavy, how can you hold it then?
The pain for ALL broken hearts, broken lives, broken hopes, future, right to happiness – taken away in two weeks for millions of those who share same home, same place, same sounds/words of pain too.

Two weeks…

The pain for our humanity, for loss of kindness, wisdom and reason..
The pain of not knowing could I have done something to stop this,
The pain of not knowing when happiness will be here again, when we can we smile without heaviness in the heart/mind/whole body…
How could we?
Blinded by the idea the world always gets better, not notice and not prevent so much pain…
Maybe, because like many, I only thought that I knew what the pain was…

Poem: Knows it All


Someone who knows it all

Can’t hold himself all together when someone speaks,

Trembling with an urge…

‘Let me add here’, ‘let me add there’

I know it all!

Someone who doesn’t know it all,

Often is quiet,

Often sits there waiting,

Patiently letting those, those who speak,

Spill their waters of ignorance, with respect,

Letting them bounce off and on, on and off,

Till they run out, run out of empty words,

Filling the space which was full just before their mouth has opened..

Poem: A Man Who Laughed at the Funeral


I heard the sound behind my back, 

It sounded at first like the bird which tickles the ground

Is someone laughing? Why not?

After all, for once, we are all around.

Isn’t it the time to share?

The true faces, the true feelings of ours?

Left to survive on this tiny Earth

Till someone will come and join with a giggle

Behind our backs again,

Yet, only when we cannot hear,

Cannot share this spirit, 

This fragile fresh air from beating hearts.