Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

2012 is over; it put me through shades of hell and square bits of heaven, but without this year, I would not have learned some things that will affect all the choices that I make from now on.  My anger has evaporated (and now it's hanging on my balcony as an icicle that will soon melt when the sun shines).  To achieve happiness, you must not rely on money, for it fades as quickly as it appears. You must not use somebody else's skin as a crutch, because kisses that are planted on your body quickly fade and the memory, over time, becomes wrenchingly painful rather than sweet. (You shouldn't trust soft words, either, for humans are capable of talking in a language called "garbage"). You won't find happiness by wading in liquor with people who also find happiness in liquor, for when the time comes that you need love in your life, the money and the kisses and the liquor and all those who hail liquor will be gone. So, I say good-bye to 2012, and thank you for tea...

In my mind, everything is dark and bitter like coffee from a gas station, My eyelids swell from the stress and they are unable to close so they peer into the night (I’m not an owl, I’m human, you see), But in the morning, when the snow thickens and the slush puddles reach my ankles and the sunlight hits me on the cheek (so sweet, so sweet), I cannot help but to lift my lip in a peculiar, unnatural way, so that it curves like a semi-spiral, this curve, some call it a “smile”, I like to leave my footprints in the fallen white snow, because I like to think that I have made some sort of impact on this world (if not a major one, then at least let me be remembered for tampering with mother nature), I like to look at the children thrilling themselves by rolling down hills on poorly put-together plastic sleds (but they are rosy and happy), And mother and father stand by the edge, also smiling but alert, checking their child’s safety, the weather, etc. What a marvelous...

At every club, every party, every get-together where there is a bunch of college students, two things can almost always be found: alcohol and music. From games such as "flaming shots" to "Beer pong" (in which the beer is often replaced by vodka or other hard liquor), students never fail to find a way to have fun with alcohol. But where does the fun end? And what does music have to do with it? These are two separate concerns that I wish to address. At most college parties, music blasts through a stereo or DJ equipment. And at all-ages clubs, music is the only element holding the party together. Today's popular clubbing and rap/hip-hop music has some good beats, but awful lyrics. What's worse is that the lyrics are not only shallow, but they convey a negative message to its targeted listeners. Let me show this through example. These are lyrics to a popular rap song that was playing the last time I was at a party: N**** why you babysitti...

A tulip red as candy lips, Sleek with rain and morning dew. Gentle beneath my fingertips, The sky somber and blue. Sleek with rain and morning dew, The petals moist with love. The sky somber and blue, Cupid watches from above. The petals moist with love, The rain slowly, surely dies. Cupid watches from above, The tulip shrinks and dries. The rain slowly, surely dies, The petals become easy to tear. The tulip shrinks and dries, The stem is devoured by deer. The petals become easy to tear, My nails rip the tulip apart. The stem is devoured by deer, The flower is as frail as my heart. My nails rip the tulip apart, Gentle beneath my fingertips. The flower is as frail as my heart, A tulip red as candy lips.

What do you do when your hands are chained? When the blood from your soul has been drained? What happens when a serpent strikes your chest? Do you wake up? Is your pride put to rest? The snake reveals its teeth, sharp knives on your breast, You savour it, you smile, you’re like a woman possessed. The thick blood rolling down your thigh, dripping, The serpent with its thick black tongue, sipping. Its scales soothing, embracing your legs, your feet, Its venom on your lips, sugary sweet. It only takes a single look from those feverish eyes, To know that you are its silky wet prize. When the serpent opens its mouth, what do you find? Does your life flash before you? Or do you go blind? When you’re chained and hurting, do you blame your chest? Or do you rightfully blame the serpent, possessed?

One day at a town meeting, the Queen passed around Seeds that were sown straight from the wet ground. And each person received a tiny sapling or pea, Each person had a seed; each person but me. Over time the seeds developed petals so white, If they shone in your eyes you could lose your sight. Others were pink as the rosy lips of young girls, With a velvet red inside perfectly round as a pearl. Each person had a flower; each person was free. Each person was smiling; each person but me. The Queen looked with pity at my trembling wrist, She surveyed my mad eyes and mouth tight as a fist. She gave me a flower; but it was not like the rest. This flower was black and boiling, possessed. The petals frail as the heart of an orphan child, Its stem poking into my chest, its thorns long and wild. This flower, this burden, it made me depressed, It stuck to my neck and caused me such unrest That I spent nights filling jars with my tears. Hoping tha...