Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

I dreamt last night, I'm not sure why, About pink jellyfish in the sky. They'd shine and fade as they passed me by, These mysterious jellyfish that could fly. The sky was dark as the deepest sea, The night tides had shifted for me. Down was up and up was free, Above me was the most magical quay. Take me to a time when jellyfish roamed, To a time when dreams were my home. Like Aphrodite rising from foam, Carry me to that virtuous zone. Alas, the sky is stuck in one place, Everyday I wake up to the same tired face. I fear and I ponder, am I a disgrace? In this world without jellyfish all over the place. No, in this world, there are only stars in the sky, There are gloomy figures that pass me with a sigh. Men on the platform, waiting to die, They think about it when the train passes by. They think about what lies beyond this doom, Of mundanity, hatred, and car exhaust fumes. They imagine that going back into the womb, Is like spending eternity with jell...

Murder is not an accident It is premeditated, filled with cruel intent Not a clumsy tumble down the stairs Murder is not guilty until proven innocent You are not jailed for being at the scene of the crime Murder is not an error in judgment: it is malicious It is not the innocent mess-up of forgetting to take your pill Or using a condom that is defective Murder is forcing women to use coat-hangers Or to seek an unlicensed doctor in the back alleys In order to rid themselves of something they never asked for Murder is silencing the voices of coherent adults Who have the right to vote To work To run for president Murder is telling them that they do not have the right To their own wombs Due to out-of-context words written in an old book And the bloody and destructive need to keep up traditions Traditionally, murder can be an accident When a woman goes to work, does sports, when she is pregnant And has a miscarriage by accident Traditionally, murder can be guilty until...

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...

You're beautiful, you're brilliant, I love you Let the rain pour from the heavens Travel into your heart and escape through your eyes Let it purify Let the flood erode all roads Dead-ends, avenues, chi-chi boutiques Chocolate and coffee and lobster and beer Will melt into the flood and disappear The waters will burst into the banks The houses, the pet stores and the cars They will be purified Ratty dogs will swim upstream Neighbours will cower in each other's basements Telling tales of childhood simplicity Telling the children about cotton candy and bliss And the parents will curl up and kiss It is all purified When the flood ceases and the light hits their eyelids They will see a world they do not know Without its dead-ends, or avenues, or gourmet coffee shops Without parking tickets, Visa cards, or angry cops They will be purified You're beautiful, you're brilliant, I love you

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...

We are disconnected stars; artificial constellations A mind set, a fluke, a trick of the imagination We are lines connecting but never intersecting We do what's expected but are never expecting We are tied to each other one day, severed the next We are mere pawns, but think we are blessed Fingers in each other's palms, we are whole Eyes connected, we make love soul to soul A warm word, a kind slip of the tongue A kiss, a relief, a reminder that we are still young But the moment we part, an ocean divides us And a mystical force in the universe guides us The moment that our lines disconnect The moment that our souls don't reflect Is the moment we flee from each other, and fast Lightyears apart, we say the past is the past All the faces I've seen, touched, caressed All the hearts that I've cried to, lied to and undressed All the stars that I've met that produced something new A beautiful constellation in the sky, a dark blue All the friendshi...

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...

"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...

Faith is a peculiar beast, Her entity rather mysterious. Some say she is nearly deceased, Others deem that she is delirious. Faith and reason were never on friendly terms, And, as the legend goes… Faith’s spine was more brittle than firm, She was weak and saturated with woe. Reason was a mighty horrid brute, He had a jaw lined with a thousand fangs. His skin was slimy as that of a newt, When he yawned, he let his filthy tongue hang. The villagers were frightened of Reason, So they followed his laws like timid sheep. Rebellion was more severe than treason, Those who revolted were too anxious to sleep. Generations of villagers were in sorrow, Led blindly through life in fear. Aware of the perils planned for tomorrow, But oblivious of how dull or severe. One day, Faith was lolling under the sun, While a few local men dawdled by. They halted and hollered just for fun, Faith drooped her eyelids and let out a sigh. “Why do you tease me like so?” Faith questione...

There is no departure from my scent, my love For I am the perfume of salty blue waves thundering down on the rocks from above You cannot hold back from my gaze, my dear Because I am not only the apple, I am the entire fruit bowl of your eye Reaching away from my voice is not possible I am intertwined with the very air that you inhale and each hummingbird’s flip of a wing is encompassed by my delicate speech Do not attempt to be invisible, you shall fail For every rose’s woe is my own and I am all the sun’s rays that bring you joy day by day, they are all my creation just for you Even if your lips do not split for a second, sweetheart, My taste will endlessly saunter in the creases of your tongue, candied nectar blossomed with raspberry juice and raisin dust- whichever aroma you desire, and I am that taste I am a grain of sand on the beach that you carelessly stomp your foot on, I know, but my graces are not faltered by this, for, I am here .