Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

I have two lovers named Chaos and Joe One is predictable and the other's not so Chaos is wild, with a scraggly old beard Joe has fetishes that seem a bit weird Chaos has issues and takes pills of all sorts Joe likes the usual: a fine beer and sports Chaos makes me feel like one big mess While Joe makes me pitiful and depressed They still love me, sending me flowers and cake Hoping I'll be in their beds when I awake Alas, I can only exist in one place in time With Chaos and vodka, or Joe and red wine Will Cupid please strike one heart of the two To save me from this sad pit of blues? Joe, oh Joe, I see us marrying one day I see us on rocking chairs with hair all grey Chaos, dear love, I see adventures await That will never land me in Heaven's pearly gates Sometimes I want to watch the sunset with Joe Other times I want Chaos curled up at my toes We want it all: a chaotic stability A paradoxical, magnetic indivisibility We want the Chaos that life throws...

Hooray. I graduated from the notoriously soul-sucking, snobbish, yet also beautiful and prestigious establishment that is the University of Toronto. When asked, "what have you learned in your four years?" nothing remotely related to academia comes to mind. I could say that I learned about wacky political philosophers and their undying sexist theories. I could tell you that I acquired "critical thinking skills," improved my writing and grammar, and can now read a Victorian novel in one day without a problem. But the things that I was taught in my classes are not the things that have stuck with me the most. All my various experiences of growing up and "discovering myself" in the maze of U of T can be summed up in one lesson: Sometimes, the things that are good for you don't feel good, and the things that feel great are leading you down the wrong path. This is an elementary lesson that we learn as four-year-olds. "Eat your broccoli, Susan! Even i...

At ten at night a fair lady releases her flowing hair And opens her window to let in fresh air Not knowing that a fairy has come in with the breeze Who will describe all that he senses and sees The fairy, hid behind a bucket of salts Watches her as she exposes her faults The chipped red paint on the nail of her toe Revolts the poor fairy, but he refuses to go For she starts to unzip her speckled blue top And her two heaving breasts break out and drop Never a more putrid sight did he see Than nipples the size of mulberry trees She then removes her lashes, her eyebrows, her lips Then, yawning, into her bed she sleepily slips The fairy, wanting to take a closer look at the doll Flutters up to her ear and begins to crawl He travels right into her big, waxy ear And discovers great galaxies there In her head she has worlds so vast and sublime That make him forget the odiousness of her slime She has novels and poetry stored to the roof of her skull Mathematics, biology, a...

It's that time of night, either 11 or 2, When I start to get the headboard blues There's nothing more awkward, we can agree Than hearing your neighbour in ecstasy I'd rather be woken to birds in their nest Than a pursuant "yes, yes, YES" The sound makes you too human, too real I've seen you check your mail, and I've heard you squeal I've seen you walk your dog and I do confess I get uncomfortable when you say the word "yes" The headboard noise is probably the worst I stare at the ceiling; ah, I've been cursed I play some music and curl into a ball Waiting patiently until you finish your brawl What you do in your home is your own affair Just letting you know: I'm also there Creepy, right? Those are apartments, you see But let me nag you, if only indirectly I'd rather listen to five kids crying at once I'd rather hear twenty-five basketballs bounce I'd rather be woken by a tiger's roar Or of a teenag...

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

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...

With Valentine’s Day coming near It is the perfect time to confess my love To the most famous man of this great land Embodying a nation that’s both strong and free Yes, Rob Ford, I declare my love for thee Even when I try to forget about your smile It shows up on the front page of the paper Your face shiny and pink like rose marble My heart begins to sting with envy That you’re having a great life without me Oh how I wish that you could see I’d cross bridges and mountains and LRTs for you I’d bash all the protesters outside City Hall for you Just to make you notice me Together, we could have dinners at Steak Queen We could conquer the gravy train We could conquer the world Alas, my unrequited love taunts me Even though I know you have More than you can eat at home Will you still be my Valentine?

I know you’re cheating on me with the game This foolishness is driving me insane If the taste of beer is sweeter than me Then kiss the keg and leave me be Love deprived, you’re a sad bitter man A lonely, sleazy Maple Leafs fan Half-undressed, I stand at the door You say move, honey, game starts at four I know that your friends will come over soon You’ll cheer on the team and yell like baboons Your life goals reflect your poor persona You can’t even choose- Guinness or Corona You’ve worn the same jersey for three days now You’ve fed on nothing but frat boy chow (Mr. Noodles, hot dogs, and leftover steak And last month’s strawberry birthday cake) It hits twelve pm and you still hit snooze If they lose, you drown your tears with booze And if they win, you celebrate with the gin Who do you love more- me or Fenton? I’m not sure why I haven’t left you yet But at a hockey game is where we first met

There is the old age question about what women find more desirable on a man: bearded or clean shaven. Well, maybe it’s not an old age question. Maybe I’m one of the few strange women in the world who believe that facial hair is the most important indicator of attractiveness in a man. I think the best thing about a beard is that it is so unique to the male species. It is something that [most] women can’t grow. This makes it a mysterious entity. And, if sculpted right, it is a remarkably handsome addition to any man’s face. Pros A well-sculpted beard is a symbol of good hygiene. I imagine that a beard must be trimmed every few days and washed in some way (using water? Liquid conditioner? It is an enigma to the female brain). Being clean-shaven is also hygienic, but those razor cuts look painful. Having facial hair makes a man look like a fisherman or a lumberjack or some other manly profession. A scrawny guy without a beard- he looks like he can kill those homework q...

What does society want? For women to achieve impossible standards (and, by the way, it is NOT possible to achieve something that is impossible). Society wants us to be living contradictions...cabbage heads on stilts... airhead rocket scientists. Society wants us to be things that don't even exist in fiction, but only in the glossy pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine (look at me! I'm so skinny! So happy! Sexy all the time!). As I heard said many times before, "even Victoria's Secret models don't look like Victoria's Secret models." The way the proportions are warped, each pimple bleached, each hair trimmed down to pre-pubescence, toes and fingers without a scar, and the face angelic and so happy... it makes me sick. It makes me sick because of the contradictions, because women are expected to: Be sexy but not slutty Be innocent but not prude Be virgins but also fantastic lovers Be independent but submissive Be good mothers but maintain careers Be...

We used to be so close, I'd hold you in my hand And you'd go with me wherever I had planned Whenever I got lost, you put me back on track You were my flashlight when the night was black You played me music on request, too good to be true But I was foolish and took advantage of you You gave me Angry Birds and the play store Yet I scowled and wanted more All those times in class, without you, I would've slept And that 3 hour car ride, without you, I'd have wept At night I'd plug you in, but I was too rough, I know Now your battery is broken and your software is slow I want you back, but my warranty expires in two days I would get you a new battery if only I got a raise I took you for granted, and now I'm all alone I miss you, please revive; I love you, Nexus phone

There is no better place to work than at this camp Though your headaches will worsen and feet will be damp The friendships we make will forever survive Though is you spread hatred, of friends you will be deprived The skies are clear on most days, and head's in a mist The hypothermia-inducing bay is tough to resist Breathe in the fresh bittersweet breeze Be baffled as sunlight kisses the trees At Camp Presqu'ile the soundtrack consists of children and birds Plus coyotes at night, but don't be concerned Though the job insists on creating bags under your eyes And there's a few troublemakers that you really despise You starve on "beans and weiners" day, you love your nights off If one person gets sick, everybody will cough You come back to this place every year The reason for this may not exactly be clear But hey, I'm kitchen staff, what do I know? Well, at Camp Presqu'ile you don't have to put on a show Don't be afraid t...

I should have listened to my intuition Before I applied for a kitchen position Now I am cursed with this temporary career The Kitchen Staff Oath begins right here: I promise to wash every dish spotless clean And fill the lawn tractor with the right gasoline There is no excuse for coming to work late I will come every morning in a hygienic state I swear to never abuse my coworkers with mayonnaise Violence is not the answer- I will live by that phrase Water fights are for idiots; this summer I will be mature I'm prepared for all hardships that I will endure I will survive this through blood, sweat, and tears At any moment in the day, I will be glad to be here I shall be obedient to the almighty boss With a smile on my face, I will never be cross Never will I eat and ice cream sandwich that is not mine I'll clean the floor to perfection, never will I step out of line Most of all, NEVER will I procrastinate, argue, or loaf I will abide by the kitchen sta...

Slouched on a dishevelled sofa Cheese bits in one hand, pop in the other The world is but a dazzle of incoherence Head is deaf to the words of my mother Like a shot of whiskey, video games bring me joy In fact I could be game drunk for days As my technique is developed, I know I can improve And enhance the scoreboard and number of plays The gore and surrealism in front of my eyes Is too riveting for one to resist If a black-out were to occur ever again, My game console would most certainly be missed Game controllers are my greatest ecstasy Without them my heart would not be complete I agree that tootsie rolls are delightful But shooting virtual creatures is five times as sweet As I am lost in a labyrinth of the gaming world Reality seems to be unreachable and impossible to attain Eyelids are heavy and thumbs tender and raw Halo overdose; brain cells deteriorating, going insane If only life were a video game in itself All choices would be simple as pie Because...