Hiding the Blame

An inner voice
An inner lawman
“They made me do it”

The inner law
Is a real shadow
In the blood-red moon

To an inner guide
He’s obedient and wise
But it makes him cry inside

It snaps the chains
It cuts the cords
Of his accord

His agreement is lost
He doesn’t agree
With himself

But he tries
To please the lawman
That talks

Through his mouth
Pouring out his shredded memories
Of boyhood photo dreams

He didn’t mean to
It was half a dream
And half of a back door

Into the relics
Of his humanity
His lawful
Legal humanity
Into someone else’s vanity

By someone else’s
Heavy-handed law

Just explore
Tip out

His puzzle
Onto the floor

Half of the pieces
Are yours
One more step
And I would break
Oh my axeman father

One more pavement slab
And I would become

A solution
In your gun

One more
Robot step

One more
Raygun blast
Of your hate

And you could use me
As paste

One more
Step forward

Your sons
No-man’s land

You will
No longer
Be a man
The shellfire
Fell for years

Upon the disc
Of my
Darkened sun

How long is war
How long is childhood

The partisan
In the family

Hid in shadows
Moved careful
Through the hate

As real
As death
As weak as breath

If I hold my
Long enough

He will leave
I will die

The heavy guns
Will cease
Like a new year’s eve

Of any day
Of the ammunition’s

My will and my blood
Are on fire
Are my attire

In the extravagance
Of fathers war
He tore up
The page
Of my days

But I named
Each piece
With a word

I needed a grid

I needed
The impossible

Look close
At the dustpan
Do you see?

A few paper pieces
Of me
I would go out
And search for help
I was the scout

And the wagon train
Caught in the rain

Social workers in war paint
Hiding in the streets

My wagon wheels
Were rolling
Towards love

I would go out
And run about
From tree to tree

Mad birds
Would follow me

I’d pick holes
In the sky
I’d try

To die
In a tramps
Old coat

I would go out
I would become
Tall grass
The sun
Would blast
On my
Cratered moon
My brow
Would swelter
Melting my
Insane boy
I can never leave
Those days behind

People are unkind
They act
Like him

The continents collide
Volcanoes rise

The bad times
The good times


The inner tide

Can happiness
Will unhappiness die?
The child part of me
Is like a criminal
Running from my dad’s back hand

The landslide of his
His sainthood of blood and mud

His war throne
Where he sat alone
Where white bats
With wings of fire

Left their carrion
On the wire

The childhood part of me
Is the criminal
The unreal is real

The dungeon
Where the nightmare
Is where he put me

As he
Ate the tops of snow-covered mountains
His feet dragged thru the slime

And if he knew
The way I felt
He’d resign

Forgiveness comes
When the fire
Has burnt out

How many fires
Were burning
In the night

When at last
I can kick at the ashes and say
It’s over

When will that day come
Will it ever?

My angry fire
May die
But other fires
May last forever

I’m thinking of my mom
She got hurt more
Than anyone

On the day
He killed her

The civil war soldier 2


I have just about roundabout finished this painting now, I will eventually sign it and put it away somewhere. It’s as big as a kitchen window. It’s hard to get a good photo using a mobile phone but anyway. contrabands 2

This is the photo I used, called “contraband”. Some of these poor men have leg irons on. But it was the expression of the man second from the left or is that from the right, which got my attention. I wondered about him, about his life and so on. thanks.

I’m Happy

I’m happy
I’ve got a blog
That many people pass by
I’ve got a friend
Who comes to see me
I’m happy
I’ve got music
I can listen to
I’ve got songs of my own
I can play
And that
tall mountain range
That I see in my sub-conscious
Isn’t so far away
Or too high to climb
I’m happy
At the way
When the darkness
Sinks into the morning
And a new day is born
At how good
I can feel inside
Like this morning
At how this good feeling
Never goes away
At how the world can
Demolish your life
And leave rubble
on top of you
But one day
The rubble is gone
And a ray of sunshine
Enters the clearing
And I feel happy

Children of the Great Patriotic War

Hettie's Reflections

Author’s Note: I posted this on my personal blog yesterday, May 9, on what we Russians and people in many other Soviet countries celebrate as Victory Day, to mark the surrender of Nazi Germany and end of World War II in Europe. In European countries, it’s celebrated a day earlier, as Victory in Europe Day. For some reason, Americans don’t mark it on either day, in spite of U.S.’ very substantial contribution to the war effort.

I wrote this post in OpenWriter, just in case my mom asked me to repost it here. Which, suffice to say, she did. I hope that, if Nadya and any of my mom’s grandkids that may come along read it, they will get something out of it, even though many people in this post aren’t related to them at all. And I hope that people who aren’t family that come across it will get…

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The juggernaut that put me here

To the juggernaut that put me here
It is a windmill swats a fly
For your voice is so dim it’s not listened to
And your heart is squashed like a pea

To the juggernaut that put me here
And to all who row within its hulk
Across the sand of humanity
Upon the shore of oblivion

The juggernaut that put me here
And would not let me in
And set me between the red moon
And the blades of the hurricane wind

The juggernaut that put me here
The rampant scream-gauntlet of justice
That is not right and yet is not wrong
Until it jingles like the coins of a Judas kiss

There’s a big glitch

There’s a big glitch in the air today
Very poisonous some might say
As it drinks the blood of the Milky Way
Keeping the glitter but excreting the clay

There’s a big glitch in the earth today
Like a glass snake, that swallows its prey
As everyone looks at the LCD screen
They are eaten up, you can hear them scream

You can cry all you want

Cursed by the voice of depression
I can sit in my chair for days
Gone by
I can sit in my chair
Waiting for the train
For someone to say
Yes, you can cry all you want
Sitting in my chair alone
All day part shadow, part human
All day long on a winter’s day
As the cat comes in the cat goes out
I feed the cat the cat feeds me
I am the cat sleeping all day
On a winters day all night
On a winter’s night as the day passes by
And the night seeks me out
With the voice of depression
A unique voice, unique to me
Made of the atoms from my own history
On my well-worn seat of a sofa
A sofa from a skip
In the wreckage of a life
Wrecked by the haunted rage
From a wolf
Surrounded by the black and white TV
Hello Mr. Depression wolf
What you got for me
Another day alone
As you eat me
Molecule by molecule
Memory by memory