Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

Remember the days we feared the gods? Neither do I, or maybe we just forgot I think we need a little superstition To quell our aching ambition We need to honour the moon and sun Just as the cavemen had done To find awe in the things all 'round Before we jumped in tech and drowned If we were to hunt our next meal We'd starve collectively, I feel Because we're even too cowardly to look In the beast's eyes whose lives we took It's simply sliced and put on display In a supermarket on the way Yes, we need to get back to our roots Take off our socks and high heel boots It's okay to feel a little scared It is how our ancestors fared Life shouldn't be riding on a cloud Idle hands make the devil proud So when you dwell into the woods Don't forget that the gods are not all good They teach us lessons as we preen Gluing our eyes to our phone screen If you're famous and if you're clever Doesn't mean you'll live forever We may be great, but there's...

               I drummed my fingers on the receptionist ’s desk in unease. There was a chemical smell all around me, seeping into my skin. A small brown dog was barking behind me, its owner looking defeated, repeating, “Stop it, Biscuit! Get down!”                “That will be $245.65. How would you like to pay?” the receptionist asked.                I paid the full amount by credit card. I would worry about how I would afford the mounting vet bills later. I looked at my small black cat, Mika, whom I’ve known since I was thirteen years old. She looked up at me innocently with her eerie and beautiful yellow eyes.                “It’s okay, Mika” I petted her and she purred, the tip of her pink tongue lolling out of her lips...

In the end, it's all the same Every French kiss in the rain Every hand you'll ever hold Even when your heart is cold Every inch of skin you've felt Every sweet cologne you've smelt Every look's that made you melt Is made on a conveyor belt It's part of the same sorrow plan It's how God has punished man To make love like ecstasy To make you dismiss reality And to fall into a helpless trance Of laughter, chocolate, and romance You play with fire and you dance You know the odds, but take a chance In the end, it's all the same All the bliss and all the pain All the kisses taste so sweet We search until we feel complete Image source: https://falacarte.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/kiss-under-spring-rain.jpg

Sometimes life really throws you in the deep end. No floaties, no swimming instructor by your side. No wading in the shallow end before moving on to the diving board. Sometimes life just pushes you in head first and you're 18 feet deep before you can even open your eyes. Perhaps this is when we learn the most- when everything hits us all at once. A beautiful catastrophe, a cavalcade of explosions, tears, laughter, happiness, loneliness; all of the contradictions and antonyms converging. Just a few months ago I felt like I became an adult, and now I am alone. So alone. There's help from friends, colleagues, and family, of course, but now I feel as most of us do. Like on an endless pursuit for money and happiness, not really knowing where to find either, and never feeling like we have enough. Adulthood is loneliness. As the strike nears a fifth cold and bitter week, and as I hopelessly scramble to find an apartment to move into before the Christmas season, it is only my inner a...

Am I pretty? She asks in vain While painting her lips pink The mirror does not answer her She needs to see a shrink While painting her lips pink She wonders if she's loved She needs to see a shrink Cause she believes in God above She wonders if she's loved If men love her for her skin Cause she believes in God above She knows the world is full of sin If men love her for her skin Does her conscience even matter? She knows the world is full of sin We lie, deceive, and flatter Does her conscience even matter? Maybe we're all just made of dust We lie, deceive, and flatter We look in the mirror with disgust Maybe we're all made of dust So what good is all this makeup? We look in the mirror with disgust Before we sleep and when we wake up So what good is all this makeup? The mirror does not answer her Before we sleep and when we wake up Am I pretty? We ask in vain

I am obsessed with life, and with finding the meaning of it all. This is why I adore poetry and literature. Certain philosophical quotes stick in my psyche and I can fish them out whenever I feel like I am drowning in my uncertainties. It is also why I love music. Certain songs, lyrics, instruments, and even sounds whisk me back to different places, different people and times in my life. Anytime I want to escape the present, I can turn on the stereo. But poetry, philosophy and music are not the meaning of life. It is just an interpretation. In fact, the older I get foggier the meaning of life becomes. When I was little, I had no critical thinking skills. Most kids do not. We swallow up everything we are told by the authorities towering over us (teachers, parents) like candies. The first time I learned about "heaven" was in the fifth grade, in Catholic School. My teacher taught religion class every afternoon, and we discussed what happens when we die: we go to the pearly gat...

2016 is a big year for me and for most friends my age. 2016 means I'll transform from "Olga Taratuta, High School Graduate" to "Olga Taratuta, B.A." 2016 holds my future in its sweaty palms. The words "job," "money," "graduate school," and "scholarships" seem to have dominated my pool of vocabulary. 2016 is where I become a real adult, not the OSAP mooching fraud that I am now. But adulthood is a scam. It is a fable told by society to keep the economy in check. Adults are seduced by money. We become promiscuous, lurking the streets to make a buck.  My original goals for 2016 were to: A) Get into graduate school B) Get a job C) Get an apartment D) Save, save, save! Then I realized that all those goals are money-driven to some degree. They are but cookie cutter resolutions, such as "exercise more" or "lose 5 pounds." I will not make money by aiming to make money. I have realized this ...

I went to sleep one day and woke up on the street With a musky beard on my chin and no shoes on my feet I smelled my whiskey breath and cried to the sky Why have you taken away my youth, God, why? I woke the next day on a downy filled bed Servants round my toes and a crown on my head I was asked to behead twenty people that day Can I please be a beggar again, if I may? After a night full of dispassionate sorrow I could not find a more dismal tomorrow I was a blind woman and a deaf one too I envied the man who couldn't afford shoes The next day I saw in the mirror a face With not even an eyelash out of place A bombshell model who puked up bread I cried because I'd rather be blind than dead In the span of one night I aged 50 years Gained wrinkles and fuzz in my ears I was a grandfather so close to the grave To be a pretty girl again I so did crave Switching through bodies was exhausting, you see I forgot who I was, but I yearned to be me Which will n...

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...

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 ...

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 ...

Nietzsche was an interesting guy. Other than his rampages about God being dead and his morbid existentialist rants, I kind of like him. What struck me most interesting in Beyond Good and Evil was his critique of Christianity. Okay, well, I like to think of myself as a Christian, so I wasn't very much convinced by his longing for complete obliteration of religion. Nietzsche mentions that Christianity has become a religion of resentment, because it started off as a religion of the poor, and its doctrines emphasize the goodness of the meek and the corruption of the rich and powerful. Hence, Christians are jealous of those who flaunt their excess, and wish them to hell (according to him). Christian "anger" hence stems from envy. What he failed to point out was that the rich can also be jealous of the poor...and that in fact the powerful are weaker because they are always afraid of having their goods stolen, while the poor have nothing and so they have nothing to lose. The Chr...

No, he didn't treat you like a friend, Because he neither cared for you nor took care of you when your heart bled. He didn't treat you like a lover, Because, like a werewolf, he turned into human form only in the sunlight, and he escaped before you could see, in its entirety, the beast that you had spent the night with. He didn't treat you like a God, Because he neither feared you, nor respected you. He didn't even try to disprove your very being. It was not even worth it. He was the one you called "home," honey I'm home, home sweet home, A home with a welcome mat stained with reminders that you are not his home, but his backyard, an old tire swing just for fun. You love thy neighbour, and forgive thy enemy, and bleed when his heart bleeds, But he does not exist. Opposite to a god, he fears himself, and disrespects himself, He is homeless, for fear of getting caught in the honey at the door, when he says, honey I'm home! Like a poor ...

"H uman beings are not like sheep, and even sheep are not indistinguishably alike" - Mill I got lost on the way to adulthood. It is easy to get lost in this world. To drown in a sea of facts and statistics. To get beaten over the head with estranged opinions. To get into quarrels over our views on religion, violence, sex, education, morality, this and that, each person trying to prove that he is right, each person trying to demean the other because of their insatiable need for always being right. Although it would take some god to determine whether humanity is making the right decisions or not, one can always decide what is best for himself.  But it's easy to get swayed. I've wanted to be a teacher ever since I was in elementary school. But in university I panicked. I was told that the job market for teaching sucks, that English majors will never amount to anything, and that I am not actually as special or smart as thought I was because everyone is a uniq...

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

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...

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 ...

There was something about the way he talked. He made anyone who was near him feel a sudden sense of unease. The way his words shot from his mouth like hot bullets, maiming all those who were in his proximity. There was this peculiar way he squinted his eyes so you weren’t sure if he was falling asleep or straining his eyelids to keep himself focused on evildoing.             He was the type of man who didn’t believe in God. He was cynical about absolutely everything, from the long line up at the coffee shop to the very meaning of existence. In fact, he told me that he killed God. We were sitting out on the front porch one nigh staring at the stars. What do you see up there? he asked me. The heavens, I said. He smirked and told me that he killed God long ago. I thought the idea was impossible. And then he said in a suddenly stern voice: I have something to tell you. Because I’m wiser than you. I’m a man. I’ve been through more tha...

Sitting in the waiting room Clock ticking on the wall Musky, heavy old perfume Drifting through the hall Carpet thick with dust Chair splitting at the seams Ginger cookies turned to crust Fresh milk rotted into cream Children playing with their dolls Ripping their bodies in two Clock keeps ticking on the wall We're still waiting in the queue This lady with a clipboard Calls out for a Dolore Again I've been ignored As Dolore walks out the door After days and days on end The lady greets me with a smile Finally I can attend What I've been missing this whole while She leads me through the door Which leads me to a beach A sandy white ocean shore A horizon hard to reach The waiting room is life All we know and all we see Is so trifling when we know We can't even see the sea

What a blessing it is to be part of this world Part of a bigger plan, something bigger than us It is humbling, rather than terrifying to know That our senses are limited and we know not much at all What a blessing it is to sail through life altogether Through its murky waters, calm waves and sea storms Knowing we are on the same ship, in the same sea The same love passes, one smile to another There is more to life than can be seen, or dreamed of Or tasted, or calculated, or measured, or interpreted A love that is tasteless but sweet A hope that is invisible but tender A spirit that is alive and forgiving What a blessing it is, to be part of God's plan