Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Not sure if I love being angry with you, Or if I'm just angry that I love you. Maybe a bit of both, as I confess, That this perfect path has digressed. And there is nothing that makes me Feel more insecure Than not being sure If this romance is honest and pure, Or if it's a heavily masked detour. Is this romance just a dance, That happened purely by chance? If so, let me lie in the crook of your collar bone (Which I love so much) And let me use your legs as a crutch, So that I won't cry at your touch. But if this romance is something more Than a cure to our juvenile bore, Then please do let me know. I don't want to be one to Dip red roses in tar No, I want to lie under the stars, Counting each one as we go. On a midsummer night, Where the moon shines so bright, Let us examine each constellation. Let us take a long vacation, As we number each star that passes through. It would take forever, Which is how l...

It was a kiss by a stream In a lopsided dream That brought back the days Of an amiable phase My heart like a machine When I saw your name on my screen My heart pumping oil But my love wouldn't broil For I did it all wrong And I worried too long Like a bird sings its song I should've fluttered along It was never love, not at all For to love is to crawl On a cold basement floor To a fiery red door But to know it's all right For the love glows so bright I just took any old fruit That looked kind of cute I'd grab a fresh pear And show it great care Then I'd drink some sweet liquor And put "love" on the sticker Of this useless green pear That I devoured to air It was a kiss by a stream In a lopsided dream That bore the fruit of my sin And crawled like ants on my skin

I’ve seen you suffer during those days When you came home with your eyes dull and glazed Then you reached for the chocolates and you cried I failed to make you happier, though I tried I’ve seen you fall in love and out of it so quick You yearned for more honey just as thick Honey, the sugar will freeze with the snow And your new honey will have nowhere to go I’ve seen you malnourished as you fed On nothing but instant noodles and bread It grieved me as I rested my head on your lap To see you stuck in a sad little trap I’ve seen you happy as a person can be And on those days I was dappled with glee For you came home livelier than you usually are And in your hand you had salmon mix in a jar

            Although you were the nicest, most beautiful woman I ever met, you were simply too good to be true. This is the last you will ever hear from me. I loved you.             R.T.             Stella found this note on her bedside table, tucked beneath a candle and a mangled copy of the New Testament. She read it over and over again, as she prepared her morning coffee and let her dog out into the backyard. She sat on her sofa and continued to stare at the note, hoping that it would make sense the more she tried to decipher it. Was there a hidden code? Was it a metaphorical verse? Stella was most hurt by the constant use of past tense in the short paragraph (I loved you) with the –d so undisguised, so brash, and so horrid, she was almost afraid to read it as “loved” instead of “love.” Richard still loved her, or so...

Be free of my pain as it gnaws at my chest See through my soul as I become undressed Rip through the tatters, then you will see A bloody broth stirring inside of me You bleed chocolate and I breed shame You seek calmness and I need flame A dire distraction, is all this seems When it's only chaos I see in my dreams So feed me turmoil, it's what I live on Do me no justice, although it feels wrong Rip through the tatters, then you will see A soul polluted with helpless debris

It is hard for me to believe that twenty years have passed. Two whole decades. A new generation of kids have entered elementary school. Kids who don't have a clue about Gwen Stefani, Walkmans, or the joys of MSN Messenger. I feel old and yet so ridiculously young at the same time. Twenty is a difficult age: I'm old enough to potentially drink myself to sleep every night, but I'm still too young to be taken seriously in the workforce. Therefore, for me, twenty is all about self-discipline. Having the option to do something doesn't mean you should do it. So I'll stay in school, spending countless hours slaving over essays which will be bell curved anyway, in order to get a piece of paper that may or may not give me a head start in "the real world" (twenty year olds don't really live in the real world, you see). For now, reality as a twenty year old can be summarized in a few simple bullet points: Frozen pizza  Debating between going to class or goin...

A hermit crab dances solo on the seashore. It is desperate and confused, and it has grown out of its feeble shell, which lies in fragments underneath its claws. The crab, not knowing what to cling on to, reaches out for anything that passes by. Any breathing creatures becomes its friend and any tin can or roadside trash becomes its home. This is the danger of desperation. Alas, this confusion is a weakness of human emotion. We keep falling and falling, as in a trance, like in those dreams where one falls and then wakes up coated with sweat. But we never really rise from this continuous fall. As we fall in love- with faith or hope or passion or agony- we pray to keep falling and never reach the pits. Never static, always confused, always dumb, homeless hermit crabs without a purpose. This is human emotion; a desperate search to make sense of things that are beyond our control.

Looking in from the outside, they're smoking and drinking wine On the patio, and they look so conspicuously happy, that I know They are not happy at all. The man has a cigar protruding from his lips And the lady is wearing a tattered red gown and a frown on her cheek. She buries her crow's feet under a nest of expensive makeup and gloss. And they ask each other, how has your day been? And they each respond, Good, while twirling their empty forks in the air, searching for ghost spaghetti. Oh, why hasn't the food arrived yet? I'm feeling rather sweaty from work. It's been years since the children moved out, so an empty house bears no Promise of passion; and the lady wakes up to the same man every day, And she no longer feels a warm prickle in the corner of her stomach. The blissful lurch of excitement, that feeling you used to get when You were a child and you saw your mother picking you up at the end Of the week from summer camp, and you memo...

Soon, we'll be old and sour and grey, Looking back at today, thinking those were the days, Where dawns and dusks spilled into each other like syrup. At sunrise we slept and at sundown we wept, And all in between we filled our days with nonsense. Soon, we'll forage our memories and become so Overwhelmed with nostalgia that we will have to Caress our stomachs and sit in a chair with armrests, And life will play itself out once more, like a movie, In fragments of memories, sensations, delusions, Of days where we felt so ashamed that we crawled Into ourselves and, like pathetic snails, we waited for life to pass us. Of days where we felt so alive that we risked Our pride and respect in exchange for a glass of beer. Of days where we were so miserably defeated That we cried to rock songs and wondered how it would be To see someone else in the mirror for a change. Little fragments, little things, will flash like fireworks. Then every thing, every dew drop on every ro...

She’s different ‘cause she talks about politics, She’s not one of those cookie cutter chicks. ‘Cause every word that escapes her lips, Is one-of-a-kind; a witty, rare eclipse. When the sun shines upon her hair, It glows so brightly it seems to flare. Sorry to say, she’s just like everyone… Like every other girl roasting under the sun On that very same beach, cookie cutter girls Who all think they’re unique gifts to the world. All you have to do is mix sugar and dough, Then sprinkle some differences and then you’ll know Being a big girl, an adult, you see, Is not when you realize you’re bound to be free. No, growing up is knowing that you’re like everyone else, ‘Cause everyone struggles, succumbs to impulse, Everyone cares about themselves and nobody else.

Born into a world that is ruled by the few An oligarchy disguised as a democracy (We're accustomed to believing it is not so Because we are cattle, and "the man" Can slice our necks open at any time) I'll never be a man, for it is God's will I'll have the "wo-" stuck in front of it Like an uninvited guest that refuses to leave Even when the dessert dishes are put away I'll forever be destined to be wo-man A syntactical slip, that we are hu-man When we were small we were equal Until that day in the change room In the sixth grade, when Sadie began To make fun of you for having fat legs Then, like a lollipop version of Eve, We looked down at ourselves and realized That we were wo-men and our bodies became Something that needed to be kept secret Chastity belts digging into our bellies The sunburnt truckers with leering stares The frightening reminders: never walk Home alone at night and bring hair spray De...

Yes, chivalry is dead because it was never alive. Besides, we are not knights and princesses; we are confused young adults, always looking for a convenient distraction. I hate the word "convenient." It reminds me of a gas station convenience store, with cameras installed to the ceilings, and a unisex washroom with a rickety door. This is convenience. Beef jerky on the side of the road and a quick fix of Redbull. Convenient. I can distract myself with hours of brainless television. A few hazy nights spent at the entertainment district with the bass pounding every molecule of anxiety out of me. I can jog with headphones in my ears and my back dripping with sweat. I can spend a ridiculously long time preparing a garden salad while watching a rom com from the corner of my eye. I can soak in strawberry scented bubble bath and hum to myself. I can do all these things but I will never be able to fool my own mind. I will always seek another distraction. What am I distracting ...

When the snake slithers under my door, let him do it Let him test how much I can take, take my heart and chew it When the clock ticks and time gets too thick to erase Let him steal all my time away and call it the chase When my self esteem withers away, help me do it Assist me as I take the world in my hands and say screw it When the snake poisons my vein, let him do it It's just a small sacrifice for the pain, no more to it Injected with this liquid that makes me another me Rejected by this twisted ghost and I become my enemy Long ago, I thought I was stronger But I can't take the grief any longer Passion or cocaine, same drug different name I am the only person to blame for the pain So when the snake slithers into my chest, let him do it Let him cut out my weak heart and chew it, Nothing more to it.

Everyone needs a tree. Something stable, strong, and fruitful. I need an oak in order to see everything that is beautiful. I need a tree in order to inject the life back into me. So that my veins can be as luminous as the leaves. When it's hot and I'm suffering from anonymity, I can always rest in the delicious shade and be free. Because the tree loves me despite my constant doubt. It's because it cannot see. It just loves me inside out. It's sturdy to lean back on. To read around. To climb on. The tree is my life and when it is gone, I'm gone. There is so much about this tree that I do not know. It's roots I cannot see, although they continue to grow. I just know that it's strong. It's giving and it cares. I've never seen this oak but I know it's always there. Cause when I close my eyes and beg for mercy or a prayer, I see the same thick branches and the same tree's always there. It's my one oasis of strength. It's my...

A frog can use its eyes to look around. It sees everything. The swamp, the flies, Its prey, its frog friends, its predators, The frog sees everything except for What is directly in front of its face. This is why you can catch a frog Very easily. Not by sneaking up on it From behind or from underneath Or by plotting a way to confuse it. It's easy. Just catch it by cupping Your palms over its face, and It won't even see it coming. That's life, that's my life, I'm a Frog and life wraps its fingers around me In the most conspicuous way. And I Don't fight it because I can't see What's ahead. Like a frog I see what Is the present, in the moment, with Complete ignorance of the danger that Lurks directly in front of me. Of the Hand that holds my destiny. That has The power to trap me and never let me go.

The empty sidewalks, the leering stares Not scared anymore, nobody cares Can it just be me and the moon Why does the sun have to come so soon I used to have dreams, now my mind's gone Seems like the crazy in my head has won The silhouettes on the wall are my friends Those lonely romances, too, come to an end Let the darkness envelope me, keep me warm Let my insanity keep me away from the storm Trying not to look at all I've left behind Don't feel pity, just look after me, I'm blind Keep marching on without destination Succumbing to every inclination Dissect every flaw, every whisper of fear Keep my mind foggy, keep my thoughts clear Wishing I had no memory Wishing I had no sympathy Can this feeling that I can't comprehend Be killed, mutilated, put to an end? Can it be walked out? Talked out? Can it be drunk, drunk, drunk and knocked out? My mind is just a hamster wheel Getting tired, when really all I feel Is insomnia and a case of common sen...

I'm not a role model, an intellectual, a poet. I'm not a good person and I'm not an evil person. I am just a member of the species  Homo sapiens . I am blood, guts, and bone. I am an amusement park of veins. My heart feels no pain or pleasure; my heart just pumps blood. It would be silly to think that there is a deeper purpose, when I am a bundle of nerves wrapped in naked, papery skin. Why would I be part of a grandiose plan? I am just an animal. There is no logic in the animal kingdom. There is no philosophy and no art; just a hierarchy of animals that kill and eat one another. We are part of that kingdom. Maybe Hobbes was right. Without security, we would be cannibals. Without morals, we would be foxes. Without politics, we would be wild. We are wild. We are not ladies and gentlemen. We are panthers and wolves. We huddle in packs and howl at midnight just for the fun of it. We flee from danger by scurrying away like scared little squirrels. We would do anything for o...

Everything was a bit amiss, Without you by my side. My lips thirsted for your kiss, A part of my heart had died. Without you by my side, The world was a scary place. A part of my heart had died, When I last touched your face. The world was a scary place, The equilibrium was gone. When I last touched your face, My heart fluttered like a swan. The equilibrium was gone, Gravity ceased to exist. My heart fluttered like a swan, And flew away into the mist. Gravity ceased to exist, My love was tamed by crows. And flew away into the mist, My equilibrium was prose. My love was tamed by crows, My lips thirsted for your kiss. My equilibrium was prose, Everything was a bit amiss.

The lamp is plugged into the wall It's shining but there is no spark It's connected but it still feels dark I wish love could be resurrected But when a light bulb is defective It must be recycled, right? I wish passion could be turned on At the flip of a switch I wish I could think passionate thoughts Like I did when the lamp warmed my heart When I thought I could die with you and I'd be happy I could breathe the same air and I'd fly I am always and only thinking of you Now the lamp is plugged in And the cord is frayed Switching on and off Isn't easy as it used to be

Mechanical motions Like a train or a car It's so easy and  Feels so smooth to Ride a train and  Let it take you Anywhere. Mechanical motions Take you places Take you nowhere Take you everywhere Take you where Your heart beats fast. I like going nowhere Just enjoying the ride On a train or a car With fingers entwined Heart beats in sync With the radio. Mechanical motions As simple as speech As natural as movement As liberating as song This, too, is lust. Making love to no one Making love to every one What is the difference? When it is only my reflection I see in the rear view mirror. Mechanical motions Robotic, artificial Forced, surreal Yet at the same time Complex, innate Enticing, fragrant Like a rose  So tempting to touch So painful to hold. Mechanical motions When I do this to you Do that to me This way, you are just A reflection of me And I make love to No one; no pain ...

The world used to be full of people People who ate and talked and lived They all had the same haircut and black loafers They never cut their fingernails   They carved their names into tree trunks for fun They fished to replenish their stomachs The world used to be full of these people Where have these carefree people gone? We have been cursed with external attraction Even animalistic desires are less brutish Than the images we digest Of people who are not really people People who are trapped in tight cow skins Strangled in bow ties and neck ties Wearing heels that could be used for combat People who are stringed together by bones Nothing more, nothing less Bones, skin, muscle, fat A concoction of body parts That are labeled and shipped off To find a soul mate: a lover of bones All we see is the external attraction Things that we don’t see, don’t exist, right? Ghosts and werewolves Witches and spirits God and morality No, there ...