Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

As a young person, my attitude towards life, others, and myself in general is constantly in flux. And I'm learning, over and over again, the old-age adage "if you keep doing things the same way, things will stay the same" (or something along those lines). It's true: if you don't change your attitude, your behaviour remains the same, and you are stuck in a never-ending replay of a car crash that you can easily avoid, but choose not to. From various life experiences, these are the "Seven Deadly Attitudes," if you will, that might not necessarily keep you locked in purgatory, but which will make your life on Earth feel hellish. 7. Anger No one likes an angry person. Someone who is perpetually red-faced is not nice to be around, but he is mostly harming himself. Having an angry attitude towards life means, roughly: lashing out at others and using anger to disguise more vulnerable emotions, such as pain and sorrow. Basically, you puff up like a porcupine...

I've only seen two types of people in this world. Sometimes they are both, some are more extreme than others, and some interchange. Essentially, a (wo)man can only be in one of two states: a state of heightened esteem, to the point of arrogance; or a state of complete submission and weakness. This state of being eventually shapes a man's character, for a man who leans too much on cowardice becomes a coward, and the man who is consistently in a state of arrogance becomes an arrogant man- the state becomes embedded in his personality. How do we know that a man can only be in one of two states? When a man faces a dangerous or difficult situation, he rarely takes responsibility for himself, for this goes against the man's natural need for survival. Taking responsibility involves taking a risk of being rejected or hurt. The man's natural instinct, therefore, is to tackle the situation in a way so that his ego is protected. For example, when coming across a bear, the arrogant...

A vulture once mistook me, For a slice of drying meat. His yellow talons shook me, As he dragged me down the street. I never knew the vulture, Was my own self in disguise. ‘Cause in our riddled culture, We’re all perfect in our eyes. Maybe one day I’ll grow wings, And drag others down along With all my dysfunctional things, Stacked where they don’t belong. The wings, they will be black, They will span the length of Earth. They will split right out my back Like a mutant giving birth. Though winged, I will not fly, ‘Cause I won’t know what I’m doing. I’ll have splinters in my eye, Too blind for love pursuing. I’ll mistake innocent dwellers, For chunks of deceased deer. I’ll rip open healthy fellers, And then bite them on the ear. That’s the vulture that is in me, His beak is slicing through my chest. I just hope that you’ll forgive me, For being a bitter, ruthless mess.