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.

Essay: A symbol for being human?

essays, Uncategorized, war

There should always be a symbol for something you own, right?
What about the thoughts, an idea?
What about when you feel warm/cold/hot?
To a child you would have a symbol/ a drawing for everything, would you? For an adult, symbol is politics, right?

What about some letters you choose?
To put on your car, clothes, police shoulders – scary?
It may mean something to them who put it, helps to decide who is the right/wrong one…

They will then mark your house too, with a symbol, over night, quick, so they know which one you are, too…

How would they check my house, you ask, how would they know for sure? They will walk in, rape your wife first, maybe your daughter, son…can you make any sound? Get angry? Hide? The latter perhaps will have spared you then, pray…

She said that I started to write too dark since the war, sharp.
Truth? – I asked.

Truth is ugly, always been, where this phrase even come from? Somewhere where we all been, or will, sooner or later…

While the ordinary worry about their miniature problems you can name yourself: money, promotions, cake choices – other ones choosing to leave to stay, to kill, to bury, to break. While privileged worry about the words they use the describe the horrors of war, the ‘weakest’ and ‘simple’ kneel and been rising again and again, to stand.

Our parents there watching too, not asking questions, justifying all actions as ‘right’, joining evils and tyrants who has no years in there left to face this/to see what they’ve done.

Overnight, simple as that, it was broken. Just after my birthday, the night before which I could not sleep, thinking about the war…

Unimaginable at the start, not believed to have happen by many, has started. How do you get to this, unprepared, how do you face it and then keep living the live as it was before. You can’t.

Your body will age quickly from stress, your sleep won’t be normal for years. You’ll watch every day from an outside, observe with an open heart, observe and imagine, the worst.

The largest gray cloud, like a massive black dog will follow you everywhere, sit next to you, quietly, not barking, no, almost never, so none can see her too. Others will have theirs too, watching quietly, when they too will be allowed to speak, maybe never.

Those who are ‘allowed’ to talk those are scary – or, stupid? Maybe, not really. Victims? Of propaganda, yes. Of poverty, of neglect too. Suddenly those always left behind get a voice, ‘power’ to shape, ‘power’ to mess everybody once and for all, just like they have been messed up – quickly.

What is with us, after all, we all want to be so important, so valuable, we need to break things to be noticed. We think we have/deserved rights for something. Right to speak for only our people but not the ‘others’ – how? They can say, they can speak, others should shut their mouth, labeled as traitors, betrayers, agents?

We all want to be special in this mediocre world. This endless fight to mean something to the outer of yours, work, family, partner, your country – to be loved, to be known…

It never just ends there, does it? Once you have a got a little bit you’ll want a bit more, we all have been there – how do you stop then? How do you moderate this little desire of yours to mean something?

Do you need loving partner from the start or maybe bullying-free school years? Lack of discrimination, being you perfect ‘average’ kind of thing? No broken hearts, money in your parents pocket, then yours too? Absence of things or, maybe opposite, piles of the stuff that you do not even need? What is it really? What doest really make you ‘human’?

Don’t answer me now I am scared to know what is it. As if we all know (don’t!). Perhaps, just forgotten as if we were told and then spoiled by peace, quietness, then just got used to the hell, horror, cannot differentiate anymore what is really does make one ‘human’…

They all will be dressed nice, for the movies, artistic ones too, about wars, there are plenty of them on TV already, what else is left to entertain modern man/woman when real life is so peaceful, so quiet, how can you live without getting bored to death. But don’t worry, they’ll soon romanticize further all that we see now, they’ll make a comedy, called ‘Death of P…’. They won’t understand it just they never did before what a tragedy is has been to a modern world to have a man who thinks that is to achieve the best of the world he want to see ‘right’, there is a need for lies, deaths, ‘cleaning’ and ‘clearing’. All that is seen as a threat to ideas, like that of ‘democracy’. The word, for which people die every day, for the word to mean something for those who have privilege not to care about lost lives – so their words can live longer, can win in a fight for ‘progress’, or die?

How cynical. Is it?

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…