Green Lit by Sun

August 3, 2016 Leave a comment

graSSAmong the green lit by sun,
Morning mists just vanished,
Around the coat of arms
Mowed in the grass
With flower beds so tight, so vast,
Not minding the sprinkles raging,
I see you walk, without a care
So I assume,
Melancholy reigns your mind,
Or deep thoughts you’re enjoying,
Unravelling secrets you desire,
One way or other.
I watch you tirelessly,
Each minute under European skies
Is the blessing of peace
My psyche requires
Away from want and need
Until the world again awakens
In its rage for intoxication
Of things, ideas, and beliefs.

[image was copied from thanks.]

Categories: Uncategorized

Civil War (in your head)

Civil war insanity

When everyone’s

Against everyone’s

Interests and values,

Pissing on belief systems

And questions morality.

So is in my head

When I doubt sanity

And worship chaos.

Axl blares on,

Wondering what’s civil

About war anyway.

He’s right,

It’s a nasty business

In which no one truly wins.

With me, it’s a dispute in which

If there is a gain,

It’s only a temporary euphoria

Of the party that needs

Fairytales more than anything.

In the end all forces die

To black oblivion

That takes hours to dissipate

Before new life of suspicion

And self-deceit

Are born.

Categories: Uncategorized

Compressed Identity

compr3Mine used to be the state

 Of body, spirit, and mind

 Broken by my own

 Subconscious vision

 Of not belonging to,

 Not wanting to a part of,

 Desiring escape from,

 And fearing responsibilities,

 As well as obligations,

 In addition

 Constantly feeling like

 As a square peg

 Being pushed

 Into a rounded hole

 Of society’s norms

 And expectations

 In a manner of what felt like

 Deliberately left

 To die insane.

image was recompressed out of the visions copied from and thanks.


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A Non-Existent Life

You think that sun is shining and gives warmth

But not to you,

To someone else perhaps,

But you are always in the shade.

On a hot day it’s good,

But there are more of the colder days

And they last longer.

And the wind is always sharper

Just when you have to walk away

From a shelter you were forced to leave.

What you believed to be salvation

From pain and awkwardness

Became poison you can’t live without.

You heard of people who ended up that way

But you never believed it to be true

Or that it will ever, even in the wildest dreams

Of a madman living in the middle of nowhere,

Would happen to you.

And now witnessing it being real

You still deny it with ferocity of a man drowning at sea.

Only you are really drowning

And you’re not crying for help.

You are too scared to display

Your inability to control your life

You are too embarassed to show the rest of the world

That you can’t enjoy life to the fullest

Like they do, or pretend to do.

Strange colors shine on you at night

When your head screams for fresh air

And your guts are about to swear blood vengeance

For the harms you put them through

And yet still you look upon the wreckage

Of your life you never lived,

Just wallowed in grey existence,

Of never ending hopes

That come through aborted

When opportunities knock

And come away shattered,

Of poisoned hearts and

Rusty nails you continue to step on

And you grin to the sun that seems

To only want to burn you alive

And you give yourself another promise

You so hard want to keep

And forgetting to buckle up

You step out on the road

Into the icy wind that you believe

To be bringing change

To your life

That truly only exists in your drunken bouts.



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Trees Were Fog

foggedAgain came the day

When light was night

And trees were fog

And birds chirping

Was cars with no tires

Screeching against the concrete

At full speed

Down to heaven

In a rush you’d never see

But on December Black Fridays.

All was grey, like the sun had a hangover

And all I cared

Was nothing at all,

But sitting in a shower all day,

With hot water running down by back,

As I felt secure

In my inactivity

And isolation.


In the evening

I’d stumble out of the bathroom,

Like I was drunk and stoned and beaten,

All at the same time,

And stare at the window

At the grey world

And trees whose branches looked

Like fog that descended once

And never wanted to leave,

For in our world

No one cares to look

Or pay attention anyway.

Blind as just born puppies

We only go for what we want to have

Or what we were taught to do,

Not thinking about what others are doing,

Unless it benefits or harms us.


This day lasts for weeks,

Season of rains,

Depressive hours,

Never ending nights.

I don’t know my surroundings anymore.

I don’t know what is there to wish for,

To have this grey time end,

Or find something within me

To make my life worth something,

No matter what the world outside the window looks like.

I think I just answered my question,

But I am just so scared

To make the change.

the image was copied from


Categories: Uncategorized

Ripped Ribbons of Assumed Triumph

medalsAt some point

They thought they had it all together:

Ideals, dreams, promises, priorities,

All kinds of ideations felt right

After endless chaotic lifetimes.

Until a day came

When they wasn’t sure anymore

Who they were and what they wanted.

For years they refused to give up

The chip they wore on their shoulders,

For the war they fought

Seemed only relevant to them.

Each day felt like challenge,

Each move they watched for a landmine,

And if someone rushed past them,

They clenched their fists and ducked.

To them life felt like a battle won each evening.

Each night gave rest

And they counted their blessings.

Until the day came

And the nights became bright as mornings.

On the streets people passed them,

Chatting as if never

Feeling in danger,

As if peace never ceased

And sun always shined.

Now was the time

They started doubting memories

Of clashing swords over their heads,

Bullets singing death songs,

As they lay buried in the mud,

Watching the enemy crossing the fields.

Now their medals they assumed they’ve deserved

Are losing their shine.

Now the ribbons of what they knew

To symbolize triumph

Are ripped to shreds

In their worn doubting minds,

Waiting for someone to ring the bell,

Calling them to solve a conflict through fire,

Give meaning to their lives,

Spent in bad dreams,

Knowing no rest,

Daily experiencing fear,

In the back of the world daydreams,

In the assumed battlefields,

Shunned by the ones

Who’ve sworn to love them.

[image was copied from ‘ere. thanks.]


Categories: Uncategorized

Stigma Ties

soical-stigmaModern society deals with so much information every day. We don’t even have time to process it, and it keeps falling onto our lap. But at least we can use the information we want. We have that opportunity to find out how to deal with this and how to treat that, finding answers literally in seconds. New generation has no idea of how not to have that opportunity, but decades back there were crowds of intelligent people all over the world that made this world as we know it get to this point eventually. But the spread of knowledge, oh how slow it was. And with slow spreading knowledge, ignorance would be massive too, wouldn’t it? And the funny thing is that while then the knowledge would spread rather slowly, ignorance would spread much faster. And all kind of nasty things would come along with it.

Most of my Russian family members drink socially. Some didn’t and they are not with us anymore. Some of them could live longer.

At any rate, although we had some people in my family that abused alcohol, my family never talked about the dangers of drinking. They’d tell me that I obviously had too much alcohol to function properly (which was true), or they’d remark post-factum that my Granddad keeps pouring me more at the birthday dinner (true again). But it was never an object of a longer conversation. Until it started getting worse and I was clearly losing control.

My other Granddad died because of alcoholism more than from the older age complications. He stopped drinking eventually, but the damage done to his liver thanks to drinking excessively for decades killed him three years after stopping. My family was obviously upset, but they wouldn’t talk about what happened. There were no conversations of how we could have prevented that. I was never talked to about how not to drink. I was only reminded that I could end up like the Granddad.

I don’t want to go into details of why my family knew no better. I’ll just say they didn’t know and not many knew. That way I will not get into blaming mode. Rather, I’ll say there is often no knowledge of addiction and treatment among people who lived with and around addiction for a long time. And unfortunately when there is no knowledge, there are blooming rumors and mythology. Which leads to stigma. And that one doesn’t die easy.

I grew up loving drinking for the effects it gave me. I never thought I’d give it up for anything. Ten years or so of devoted drinking led me to the point I was to end up in deep trouble.

I also grew up hiding drinking. I knew picking up a drink on regular basis wasn’t welcomed around my parents unless we had a family reunion (but my parents would occasionally treat themselves to a beer or a brandy.)

When I shifting toward sobriety, yet still not one hundred percent ready to make the complete change, people around me who never knew of recovery asked “We talked about it, didn’t we? Why can’t you just stop?” When I did quit and joined AA, some people would say “Well, you can still drink from time to time, right?” It appears we Russians haven’t discovered AA until early 90s, but our alcoholics didn’t start rolling into this self help recovery program fast enough. Still there are not that many AA groups back home unless you look at really large cities.

Alcoholics are the people suffering immensely, but we are either made fun of, or accepted too eagerly with a weak smile. Everybody expresses that they seem to know how a drunk feels, but not everybody understands that a drunk drinks very differently from many others. We the drunks are picked on our behavior, because we are not the only ones who really has no idea what’s going on with the chemistry of the drug hitting the mind of an addict. We don’t know and we suffer internally and socially. They don’t know and they suffer socially, but again, they don’t know how we feel and how we see the world around us.

Stigma comes from lack of knowledge. I cannot say with certainty that I wouldn’t drink or would stop drinking early if I knew in my late teens what I know now about alcoholism. I would however feel different about depression, isolation, suicide, and denial if I knew earlier. And I probably would treat other people differently.

[the picture was copied from ‘ere. thanks.]