Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Freezing rain, on the street, on the benches like slippery sheets, on the roofs of small houses and skyscrapers alike, the world is a fridge, and we are the chopped meat that has two months to go until thawed. I lay there on a bench, unsheltered under the freezing rain, the chill of it sticking to my skin (I couldn’t get up in fear of developing an open wound) and it sucked me in. Not a sock on my foot, not a handkerchief on my leg, I just lay there nude, exposed like a snail without a shell (you could kill me with salt). My spine (a bone) pressing against the bench of stone, little bruises cropping up all across my body like hickeys from a pixie. The toes of my feet and the tips of my fingers bright red (I hoped the cardinals wouldn’t mistake them for berries). I looked at my chest and saw that it compressed to remind myself that I was breathing, although the ribs poked out so far out that I was scared they’d collapse like a rusted old dome. I could feel the ice clumps

What is alcohol? A high school student would describe it as a very grown-up drink, a lick of courage, a bottle of beer the ticket to the party, the admission to a grown-up way of living. For a college student- a lifestyle. Everyone forgets about ping-pong when there's vodka pong and pass-out pong. A casual chat with friends accompanied by a glass of poison makes the chat so much more interesting and honest. A slice of stale bread in the fridge feels claustrophobic with all the everclear bottles around it (and then the students complain that they have no money at all). For an adult it's a windshield wiper for memories, an escape into a feeling of nothingness, or un-feeling (which is, subjectively, the worst feeling of all). Traffic jams and bossy bosses and market losses, one deserves a drink after all this! For an old man it's the reason he's rolling around on a thin mattress at the hospital, his insides churning with black acid, and liquor is no longer a casino ga

In the morning, I powder the creases of my face To pretend that I'm a woman of beauty and grace Lips glossy like pink virgins wearing frocks That caress when I open my mouth up to talk Mascara turns my lashes into lean burlesque dancers Stilettos flashing, travelling circus black panthers Four streaks of navy liner, two on each eye To count for each time that a fool's made me cry I paint on my eyebrows and waft them to dry I dab on some glitter that smells like sweet pie I cover my nude nails with a honeyed glaze A timid grey that inhales the sun's rays In the morning, I reinvent my entire face To pretend that I'm a woman of beauty and grace

There is an hour of the night when Dogs are four-legged demons and  The doorknob is a gargoyle's eye and  The moonshine stains the walls With the things that I want to forget. It is at this time of night when My pillow is downed with bricks My blanket suffocates me like a snake and I lie there in a soup of my own sweat. My tears become so heavy that They clog my throat instead of my eye As midnight turns to three o'clock  I squirm like a night-light child because I'm scared of the monsters under my bed. I've met real monsters before, I have I've seen them, they've touched me, they have Although I don't remember their faces I know that they had claws and harsh voices and They had no restraints at all. There is an hour of the night when I press my left thumb to my right palm and I pretend that you're holding my hand and The monsters blend in with the moonlight But I’m still so… I'm so

So, I was researching something that I learned in literature class today (because that is what I like doing on Friday nights). We recently read the screenplay Hedwig and the Angry Inch and one song in particular really intrigued me- "The Origin of Love." What is the origin of love? Here is a summary of Hedwig's song, based on Aristophanes' mythological philosophy that is mentioned in Socrates' Symposium.  (Oh yay, story time!) Well, a long time ago, there were three sexes: the men (of the sun), the women (the earth) and the androgynous (the moon). Each sex had two heads and four legs, etc. and they were very powerful. The gods became angry with the strength of these sexes, so Zeus cut the people in half with lightning bolts. Therefore, it is now in our nature to seek  a sort of completion. Meaning, we have intrinsic desires for love and sex and finding "our other half" (as cheesy as it sounds, this is exactly what Aristophanes meant). Of course, this c

There was once a statue made of marble, white as finely spun silk, The face pure like honey and smooth like warm milk. The hair a long braid hanging down on one side, The waist quaint and narrow and the hips curvy and wide. The statue woman was elegant and tall, And on her cold body she wore nothing at all. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the sea, Did she have a mind at all? She longed to be free. Because beneath the stone, she was all alone, She’d live forever, never would she dry into bone. Then one day lightning struck and she split into pieces, All that was left were chunks of her fine curvy creases. The town’s men came together to put her as one, Touching every marble and crease until they were done. Now her body is a puzzle made of shame and defeat, And all in the process she lost her mouth and her feet. Her eyes bone-dry faucets, her pupils ebony clear, How she wishes she could taste the saltiness of a tear. How does it

A society held together at the seams, By Starbuck’s and cars and broken dreams. We breathe in the society like it’s mountain air, Straying away from it would be too hard to bear. And we say that we’ve progressed, And we say that we’re not money and sex obsessed, Then why is almost all of America depressed? It’s about time to put these lies to rest. We live in a world where anything different is bad, We spend thousands to keep up with the Apple fad. Men should be fearless and look like Hollister boys, Women are like fruit, useful when ripe, useful as toys. Whereas those in poverty can’t get any fruit to eat, And the government says that McDonald’s soda is too sweet. Society has scars for eyes; like a horse, we’re too blinded to see, We can’t see the wars, the truth, the inequality. It’s not okay for budding children to be cut from their breath, And for a woman on a bus to be faced with rape and death. This society is corrupt beyond repair, And we think we can save it with a prayer.

I’ve been through deserts; I’ve been through rain, I’ve been through gruesome amounts of pain. I’ve been hated by those who are worthless to me, I’ve cried days and nights ‘cause of worthless people, you see. I’ve spent evenings doing things that I wish to undo, Some people don’t even believe the things I’ve been through. I’ve looked in the mirror in disgust, disbelief, I’ve had my heart stolen, and at other times I was the thief. I’ve been abandoned by friends, I’ve been abandoned by hope, I’ve been a disgrace and a bitter, sad mope. Fuck, look at this! I’m still here whether or not I belong, I’ll make it, you see, I’ll survive ‘cause I’m strong.