Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Don't you know they're all the same? Every bouquet is picked from the same field Every lily and every tulip and every forget-me-not Has been forgotten by someone Because the flowers, they're all the same All lips possess that fleeting sweet taste That's erased by your afternoon tea The same tongue that we all possess Can be used as a spear or as a lullaby The tongue can say things to make us cry Yet all lips and all tongues taste the same Isn't it true, that all hands are the same? Warm, with blood rushing through them Matching perfectly with my hand Yet all hands fit together like jigsaw pieces All the hands in the world tied together by a string The hands, they are all the same What is different? The soul? The sparkle in the eye that reminds us That our inner demons and angels lie not In our capacity to love, or to kiss or caress The only difference between us is One person possesses his self-worth in his soul While the other values himself ...

When was the last time you looked in the mirror? What were you searching for? And did it appear? Or was it faded because of the tears in your eye? Did you unroll cigarettes to make your cheek dry? In the mirror, did you see the scars on your chin? Did you tug at your wrinkles and the craters in your skin? Is that all you saw? Blank eyelids held up by a jaw? The cracks on your lips, bleeding and raw? So you search the sky for an answer But an answer to what? To an archaic question that you already forgot Where is God and why isn't he in the sky? Why can't he sing you a sweet lullaby? He would tell you to not look at the stars at all For God is right here, in the mirror on your wall You ask him questions in your sleep, and he replies By showing his image of forgiveness in your eyes So when you look in the mirror, don't think of the image as flawed Because you're your own saviour; Only you can find God

I have a dysfunctional relationship with Time Sometimes I like to play hide and seek with Time Time hides, and I try to find it I see it peeking from behind the curtains But I treat Time like a child, and I say 'Time, oh Time! Where are you?' Time just stands still, trying not to be seen And with Time frozen, I have all the time I can dream of At other times, I wish Time would move along I look at the clock as it mocks me with its tick tock As I'm stuck in a store folding socks And I dream of a day when I will be a somebody A businesswoman with a brief case and a somebody at her side And one day I can create another somebody Alas, it takes time to get promoted from being a nobody Sometimes I wish Time would turn back Because in retrospect everything seems serene What was once a heart ache is now petty What was at one time a death note is now a joke How I wish Time would comfort the poor younger me Time would say, 'Time moves on! Time heals all scar...