Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Waves lapping on the sandy shoreline Grains of sand stuck to the bottom of my feet Developing a slight sunburn on the back of my neck And on the side of my arms Instantly cooled off as I heal my wounds in the lake Not just the burns, but also the stress, the internal chaos My senses acute to the extreme As if in a dream I can taste the oxygen streaming out of the trees I can hear the breeze I can hear a cricket from a mile away And a fat cat purring on a windowsill in a house across the lake If only I could retire permanently in summer Swim in sangria parties As the days swim into each other 'Til I forget whether it's Sunday, Tuesday, or a Statutory Holiday This is the luxury that has been granted to me this summer Wasting time, chasing time, doesn't matter Time has retired, too

Here at honeymooners anonymous, we welcome people coming from every stage of lustful self-destruction. We particularly aim to help those who are addicted to the honeymoon phase. Yes, addicted. And pills can't fix it. Because when you first meet a person and their lips taste like honey, you assume that they must always taste like honey, that you and them will be in a stasis, a trance, a tasty eclair filled with a never-ending flow of creamy love. But one day your beau eats onions. No longer tasting like sweet sugar, you stop, re-evaluate. Why settle for onion breath when there are honeys buzzing all around you? The full moon comes ever so soon, and before you know it your love is gone too.  Every full moon you transform, like a werewolf, from a man to a rabid creature.  On the hunt, on the prowl, so here you are. Seeking perfection. An immaculate pair of hands to hold, fingernails trimmed long but not too long, French manicure and Italian perfume. Perfection. ...

I have started reading a book called "Help, Thanks, Wow." It is basically a how-to guide for prayer, geared towards spirituals and skeptics alike. The book tries to answer the difficult question: How do we pray? The author, Anne Lamott, recalls her childhood, growing up in an atheist household where only rock bands were worshipped and the New York Times was a temple. Feeling alone, lost, and caught in existential despair, Lamott "snuck off" into the attic to pray to God for help. Prayers for help humble us. They make us feel that the world is out of our control. The cosmos does not act in accordance with our wishes, and our prayers are not answered in the way we would like them to be. Thomas Merton's prayer reads: "My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me" (Lamott 33). Just by reading the "Help" chapter, I realized why I have trouble with uncertainty. Because it is admitting defeat. It is admittin...

I had a dream that I was walking through a deserted subway train terminal. The hallways were winding and there were no direction signs anywhere, no maps, and no points of reference. It did not seem that late at night, but every underground store was closed. The place smelled like the eerie remains of all the souls who passed through the terminal that day: baby powder, cinnamon buns, vanilla scented cigarillos, sweaty underarms after working a long day at the construction site... the place smelled, most of all, like aching ligaments and the longing to drown oneself after spending a day sitting in an office. Drown in whiskey, or an odd romance, or insanity. Everyone who passed through the bus terminal that day had wanted to drown. I could also hear the echoes of stale voices, which were happy just a few hours before, but now seemed like ghosts. Children's laughter, recovering addicts spitting loudly into the garbage cans, the rusty wheels of old strollers squeaking through the windin...

Falling in love is easy Because falling is simply a mistake Caused by a crack in the sidewalk Or a crack in your heart You must always get up after you fall Hence, falling is a transitory state Between a mistake and your fate Yes, falling in love is easy Whereas staying in love is hard Standing still in a world where lovely faces pass you by You're in a stasis cause you've found the apple of your eye When you see him you feel warm as apple pie Stay in love. You can do it if you try. Staying in love makes us human Staying in love makes us age like fine wine Running, tripping, and falling in love... Makes us run too fast towards the finish line So ask yourself: do you want to be an animal? Or do you want to be free? Are you attracted to the peacock with the finest feathers? Or to the raven with the warmest heart? Do you believe in a forever? Or do you think that everything will fall apart? You can get up from falling, yes, there are left only a few bruises ...

The power of perfume  Secrets trapped in cheap glass bottles The air is misty as I enter the room Memories climb through my nose into my heart How weak the soul is! Vulnerable, protected by skin But through the nose, through the mouth, through sad eyes The haunting perfume can get in This perfume, the one with the heart shaped glass Reminds me of the days when I shopped as I skipped class And if I close my eyes just tight enough And if the circumstances are right enough I can sniff the love perfume like a drug That takes me right back to a day when I was a different me Recollecting past memories of ourselves We refer to ourselves in third person That girl, that one who wore this perfume with the long blonde hair flowing down her back Is not the girl I see today, with a hairdo that I would never have the courage to flaunt Back when I drowned myself in the love perfume Like a blooming, honey scented flower Waiting for worker bees to devour me Stop it, old perfu...

How easy it is to wish someone ill How hard it is to smile as they outshine you How easy it is to let anger fuel your words How hard it is to let forgiveness reign How easy it is to insult and betray How easy it is to get carried away How hard it is to be humble Humble words poison your lips How hard it is to ignore the pain How easy it is to ignore your blessings How hard it is to thank and pray How easy it is to not think at all How hard it is to work and not get your way How hard are the nights when your pillow's wet with tears How hard are the days when they turn into years How hard is but life, how hard it must be How easy it is to forget that you are free As a flame in the wind, as a dove in the sky To dust you'll return and as dust you will fly How hard it is to conceive that you're earth and the sky How easy it is to forget those who cry For you, those who love you so much It is easy to dismiss their love as a crutch How hard it is ...