"The Lament" and other "Russian-inspired" poems
It was yesterday when this writer, abit inspired, went to the library to read certain Russian work, and in reading that book, mostly consists of poems made by well known Russian writers, had brought to his mind memories that somehow brought inspiration, illusion and delusion that somehow it end conveyed in those works being written and posted.
Yes, it can be deemed weird, strange, nonsensical, but obviously those who deemed may had shown ignorance for in fact unveils their intention not to understand and insist in their subjective impressions this writer had felt those times. Yes, he had been inspired, as if getting numb by the promises and end lamented as he woke up and sought nothing but delusions, illusions, dreams left unrealized.
Those dreams may had happened once and never to be happen again if that's the case. So is the idea of having few people who are gold, real gold amongst the fake ones that tries to invoke its luster. And hopefully speaking, these people may lament, glee, and perhaps willing to help someone who tries to break the illusion what their colleagues had brought over in it.
Or perhaps, was this writer just felt compelled after remembering those times and getting inspired by reading pieces made by Pushkin or Solosub?
Anyways, here are the poems posted:
To you o maiden you hath opened my eyes
You red rose blooming, a blessing in disguise
You came from a place of cherry blossom and snow
Yet you are the red rose blooming from the throrns
You may be with the hordes of hell yet you have the conscience
Honoured blood of the Valkyries. rose among the thorns
And this person sought poisons you thine carried the antidote
That draws the poisons of the norm
Yet on the other perhaps this person draws to delusion
Is he inspired or perhaps given an illusion?
As the pen puts your name, and the pencil creates image
You bring fire that brings a barren mind a deadly rage
Walking in the sidewalk
Seeing strangers with all the noises
Of showbusiness and rumors
Corruption charges and pork barrels
Living tabloids scattered all over.
And as he sees you, alongside your friends
Having chitchat, smoking cigarettes
Filling fumes for a smoggy air
Can't see him, can't care
Can't call him, who cares?
Well, quite strange to see that day
And therefore, where shall he call out of his pain?
For all those times who will weep for sake?
You my maiden! The way he drew you!
He may weep abit, sing aloud
That perhaps may fell on your deaf ears of today
Unlike the pasts where understanding
Even few tones of each being heard
Seeing scattered manuscripts and sketches o'er barren roads
And paved ways.
Perhaps, you find it strange
Especially to a person imprisoned in the cell of time
Enduring the taunts and foolish promises
And you, joining into the flows of the so-called present,
Dominated by the illusions such as frivolties of life
"Live while you're young," "You only live once,"
Words people compelling to escape the realities sickening and fright!
Otherwise, being inspired for a long time, is he under delusion?
As he end inspired by yours and possibly woke up in a state of illusion?
Well, he hopes it isn't you,
He hopes you're a blessing,
A rose among the thorns
An antidote amongst the poisons
Than a curse others may think of you.
"The lament of Paul to Marina"
Red roses blooming in once bloodshed
As red as thine blood, as red as love
The fragrance seems quite remembering
As I alone, remembered once
Who will be my friend, my other?
For as you left me, and so my heart?
Who can be my heart's maiden
A loving dame, cherished, remain?
You may have left this world alas!
Yet your love has grown in mass!
The roses once can't grow had bloom
The reign of past fears end doom!
How can I felt not all the sorrows
Leaving in blankness, eternal dark
Yet your roses are sudden blooming
Riping as tears fell, fear fades its mark
"You only live once?"
You only live once
Live whilst you're young
Quotations of the bourgeois
Words of none
Trying to compliment the sickening truthg
Escaping the inconviniences
With booze, pot and rhum
O sadness, trying to be ridden from everyone's hands
And barren minds with concoctions
Listening to techno
Taking pictures that end with hashtags
#YOLO and #SWAG
Whose backgrounds speaks of relationships
Of friends, whose in fact potential foes
Trying to do "Carpe Diem"
Of making hell over joys and graces
Still trying to escape as he sees you
Trying to crossover the shadows of death
Who is liningering even in the disco halls
Underestimating their quotes and brags
Despite acknowledging their second, third, forth chances
Coming from their barren yet lucky lives
And now as he still sees them, all in their illusions dominating,
Still of escapism whilst bragging the rest
With their "faith",
This person will reply with screams
Splash faces with their rhum
Break their laughters with anger
Burn with bitter lines and full of reason!
"Enough of YOLO, for we will die together!"
Silence never stop at Tomas Morato
Hearing techno to the wails of beggars
Car engines and leaders of Sindikato
Adding ideas to the works of Dan Brown
No matter how butthurted keyboard warriors are
Hearing corruption charges
Privatization attempts and pork barrel scams
Others trying to escape realities with games
Squandering money from their bank accounts
Salaries from their overtimes from Technohub and Ortigas Center
Despite the frivolities of joys
The reality is all but coal black
Right was the words of Fyodor Solosub
So is Karl Marx and Freiderich Nietszche
Class Struggle for the Ubermensch
Shantytowns built by the tower and hometown builders
Neglected by money squanderers
Who vent "YOLOs" full of "SWAGs" to the raging poor
Yes, "YOLO" said to the poor from the filthy rich
The way they said "There's music in every bar at Tomas Morato"
And the poor ought to reply
"No matter you are rich,
No matter you may young
Yet you poop and pee
In the comfort rooms and toilet bowls
We may live once, but never o'er me
But instead we will die together
The way I struggle to get free!"