To Old Friend


I remember that,
time- diamonds bought
Barter an emerald,
gold some, caught…
It was a simple
game on board…
Imagination, grins,
no fear of sword…

It’s been years,
years, since we played…
But my dear, friend,
in that day, you stayed…
Your biggest sacrifice,
though I understand…
“Is progress worth
                 of what we stand?”

No time to stop,
no time to sing…
“Into your work,
                 our friendship sink!”
In clock’s hand, left,
you’re left to guide…
Less and less,
you’re by my side…

A proper guide-
all fear and respect…
“I gapped away,
                 what do you expect?”
Moments cherished,
in past years…
Tiny friendship sparks-
my fears…

To seek your guidance,
to seek your time…
I do things…
not worth a dime…
No better ideas;
and you are annoyed…

Philosophical storm,
armies deployed…

With barmy grin,
taking on, I stand…
Whilst you’re hurt,
out of my hand…
With all the feelings,
I’m torn apart…
My ordeals
– a hole for your heart…

With all your heart
and flimsy memories
You still call me a friend
in front of families…
With all the love,
we still each send…
I say: “You became my guide,
                but no more- a friend…”

“Бол”


Где ногами по мячу- футбол…
Где руками по мячу- воллейбол…
Где летает высоко- гандбол…
Где дубинкой по мячу- бейсбол…
Где по морде дают- Американский футбол…
Прыг- скок резиновый мяч- баскетбол…
И где попадает любой “бол”
В ворота, в кольцо, за линию- “гол”!

(Было написано в детстве, не обращайте внимания на факты)

Изменись!


Командир, вставай!
Твоя рота, встала!
Да, что ты спишь?
Родина- устала…
Тебя же сейчас с поста-  ввон!
Будешь потом сидеть и косить газон…
Не будь нагл к Родине- изменись!
Не жирей, не думай о своём- проснись!
Делай хоть что нибудь- во благо Родины,
Тогда ты поймёшь суть службы для Родины!”

The ” Haunting” of humanity


“A plea”, right now, direct stream from my brain
Engineering seems void, progress seems void, I think only science can be considered to be an ultimate goal less aim…
All the scientists, running about in their labs, researching something, not knowing what, accidentally stumping on some poor poop of a theory and naming it- “Poop 1, Hamiltonian poop, Bose- Einstein poop, Crazy poop, Wacko poop, Taco poop, Subramaniam poop, Mendeleeff poop…” and on and on and on… Others- What do they do?- They take out the carefully preserved old poop of the others, poke it, smell it, look it up in the microscope, think of it, overthink of it and then finally they either die of void efforts or the same old poop they’ve been throwing around falls on their head and they invent “gravity”… Funny people all over the Earth, leading funny, pointless lives… Businessmen, what are they doing?- bartering, exchanging food, medication, shelter, clothing (old man’s animal skin or fur) in exchange of either butt swipe (credit/debit card) or some leaves which in their solo existence have no value…
Engineers, people taking pleasure in taking things up, twisting them, turning them, burning them, squeezing them, knowing that their efforts will go void next year, but still aiding man to become even more lazy, get into more void soul barter, or poop poking… Engineers- people, who take up the poop from scientists, bake it and present to all the common people as an applausible piece of cake, which gets stale in few minutes, if not seconds (years and months respectively, of course), because just about then some other engineer, arranged for some cholesterol dug out from the heart of the Earth (gold or some other metal) and converted it into even a better cake, soon to fall stale again… Man has emerged on Earth, with purpose, what is the purpose, nobody knows, none wants to think of it, so what they do?- They take up any random activity, like digging poop, baking cakes from it or delivering and bartering all that to the rest and spend their precious lives on it… What preciousness is in them when neither you, nor me can see a bigger scene above the- “become a mother, a father, continue the race along with either digging some new poop, baking some new poop or bartering the best one as soon as new one is baked…”
The sportsmen, the explorers, the models… all of them- chiselling their muscles, watching the world, grooming their fur- who’s got better stripes, which stripes will make you “different” this year… they at least live up to the name- “animals”, that we all are…
Look at those puny fools- the farmers, working their lives off- whole year, killing the Darvin’s “poop”, seeing and understanding that they’re being used, but being kind and simple enough to thank for that and continue their job, so that they don’t have to sit like us and being haunted by thoughts wandering about the palace on our head, be constantly knocking in the wall tagged “the meaning of existence”…
Loneliness of humanity has evolved to such an extent that it multiplied. All of us are schizophrenics, but when it’s a global syndrome, why calling it a disease? We have separated ourselves from the animals, we don’t care about them, don’t even know about them, though we live on the same planet… We sit under the sky throwing empty hopes in cans called rockets, waiting for the “species of equivalent or above intelligence” named bride will see, catch and accept our ring embossed with “hope” on it… “People come and go”- simple and one of the most common expressions depicting the pathetic condition of mankind stuck in the corner of self made egoism and its schizophrenia sprawling in such magnitude…
When he felt alone, his schizophrenia engineered him God… He told this to others, others like him, those poor creatures standing around him in the corner, banging their heads- together, yet separate in their pain…
Now, you can see how easily they bring that “cake” up whenever they’re in trouble or whenever the “people come and go”, the statement they’ve been using as their birthright, with no emotions, no regret, comes to action on them  and when it’s turn of the rest in the corner to use it…
We come alone, we go lonelier… Along the road we just make up all the emotions, all the actions, just to avoid the ultimate, all penetrating question- Why are we here?
We love somebody, when we try get rid of all the frustration of failing in answering that question… We blind ourselves with anger, sympathy, any of them, all of them, just not to look into the burning eyes of that question, directly…
Universe is so big- we comprise barely an atom in it, yet our fear of pursual of the answer to that question made our schizophrenia to convince us, that this and only this is the world, that’s it- these humans, not beasts are my brethren, and I come alone, and in pain I die even lonelier, because I’ve bartered my soul and borrowed some from others so as to entangle myself good enough, so that from behind of that web, I won’t be able to face and even see that same old question?- The one of few that haunt you before you die- “Why was I here? Did I perform well? What will be next?”…Live feed snapped…

Please, do not discriminate the mode of presentation, it’s written in style to go in hand with current generation…
The rest- discussions, critique, advises are welcome…

Два “Друга”


Жёлтый, толстый Апельсин,
Рыжый малый- Мандарин,
Двое маленьких друзей,
Не могут выжить без сластей.
Как- то раз поесть пошли,
Пастилу в столе нашли.
Поделиться не захотели,
Оглядеться не успели,
Как на них напрыгнул кот,
Хап! И сразу прямо в рот!