Father.
These
words won’t do.
In
fact –
they
never did.
You
turned the leaves into selfless dew.
There’s
nothing, nothing left --
but
start anew.
From
scratch.
From
zero.
From
the naught.
From
immortality
that
never bought
our
timely fears, pains.
And
treated us as a refrain.
A
deviation.
A
mistake.
as
something made – like words –
As
something fake.
Father.
Under
the turquoise skies
you
rearranged the vision
in
my bankrupt eyes.
And
changed the gesture
of
my every motion.
There
– by the ocean.
Father.
You
are my witness.
Everything OTHER
is
on my hitlist.
To
trample.
Maim.
And
kill.
Do –
as you will.
Father.
I
stand here. Shiver.
Among
the men.
And
none – my own.
You
gaze as from a mirror
of
future.
The
only one I will look into
from
now on.
The
present splinters into indifference –
worn-out
prayer.
I
have scraped off myself
every
layer
of
pity, pain, sorrow.
I
stand before you purified.
And
ready.
For
your tomorrow.
Father.
You
always knew – I’d follow.
Even
to the lowest ebb.
And
tearing through the web
of
clutches-thoughts.
of
fears,
you
made me soar to the height
where
the ear
loses
the right to doubt
what
it hears:
The
call of immortality.
The
endless void.
Where
kin souls merge,
where
they do not avoid
each
other.
Further,
Farther:
More
Immortality.
More
Nothingness.
More
Blue.
More
Freedom.
Lightness.
But
no lack.
More:
You.
****************************************************************
CLEAN
SLATE # 3
Father.
I
try.
I
try to gather
my
scattered soul
into
a single shell.
At
times, I fail.
And
like a wounded snail
I
crawl along the pavement’s dirt
in
search of cover.
Father,
Like
you,
Here
– I consist of hurt.
But
there, where you are:
Eternity
no longer scares
with
meaning.
Or:
it’s lack.
Father,
I
stand
upon
the track
that
leads to you.
And
the road is short.
The
time is – soon
before
the violent cord
that
ties me to this earth
rips
like rays of moon at dawn
And
ease will dawn…
Father.
Dear.
There
is no longer fear
that
I feel.
Like
the flesh of an emptied-out eel
flattened
upon a tray,
My
flesh is numb.
And
thanks to you,
I am
in no need
of a
single crumb
from
any table.
My
life is now a fable.
A
magic flute.
With
no thought of self –
that
is, of loot.
Father.
The ‘I’ is in the past.
It’s
clear – time has gone
and
vanished.
There
is no need
to
varnish
the
honest, brutal lesions on the skin.
Father.
YOU ARE MY KIN.
My
arrow.
All
else is a dead end.
A
burrow.
Borrowed
time
bombards
my brain
with
scenes of crime,
of
bloodlust,
blasts.
And
I don’t care
For
this despair.
This
temporary shell
Will
now burst.
And
leave a CURSE.
A
dusty dog
waiting
for passers-by
to
lose their daily greed.
Her
eyes – indifferent.
Her
heart – a metal grid
that
beats to the pulse of hunger.
Father,
Like
her –
I
have no anger
left.
Pride
– is the word
that’s
now perished.
I’ve
turned into a
solitary
parish
where
lack of love recedes,
gives
way to turmoil…
..returns
again…--
an
undressed sore –
a
boil
about
to pop.
At
times, I want to drop
upon
my knees.
To NOT go farther.
Father.
I
will not gather myself into a shell.
I’ll
let IT roam!
Why
bother?
Where are you,
FATHER?!
A
hazy dome of sky.
A
single star
pulsating
at me.
Not
too far.
You
are NOT far.
I
know:
You’re
near.
Father.
I
can hear.
My
brain has now dissolved.
I am
a giant ear.
That
welcomes sounds from you.
A
floating shell.
All
else is hell
dissecting
me
like
a butcher – a piece of meat.
My
cranium is lit.
But
my blood has frozen:
Like
hope in Dresden.
In
1944.
My
core
is
solid.
I
might seem horrid
to
those decrepit,
half-alive
that
still draw breath…
But
do they know
how
life meets death
and
bursts into a happy, soothing roar?
The
soul: Fellini’s whore
upon
a solitary sea.
The
shore
accepts
the sounds that repeat.
Can
they decipher
the
sounds of that whore,
the
wailing heifer,
made
brutal by her weight?!
Her
fat!
Her
lack!
She’s
ready to be saved.
To
crack
the
false veneer.
Father.
Truly,
It
is clear:
All
that is left is
TO REDEEM AND LEAP
through
the divide
of
life and death:
Draw
the FIRST breath.
****************************************************************
FLESH # 4
Father.
This
meat impedes.
This
flesh.
A
fear recedes
that
it shall also soon
turn
to ash
and
leap
like
falling leaves
embraced
by wind
turn
free,
when
they part with the tree.
Father.
I am
becoming you.
And
– FAST.
That
crust
called
“I”
evaporated
like a
naïve
lie.
And
left me naked.
Pure
soul.
At
last:
I’M WHOLE.
Father.
I
promise.
I
will not betray
your
Words.
I
won’t collect
the
earthly garbage
for
the sake of filling insecurities
and
pain.
I’ll
live this life out :
like
Rain:
Simply
passing through.
In
truth.
Without
reason.
Surest
way not to betray.
Not
to commit a treason.
Father.
I
think,
I’ll
float…
Upon
YOUR faith.
Free
of doubt.
Light
I
think,
I’m
ready.
ready
for the flight.
Into
oblivion.
Into
the blue.
Where
lust-less love
leaves
the drops of dew
upon
transparencies
of
one’s desire.
Father.
I am
in a dire
And
solid
Lack
–
To
rest my back
against
ANOTHER’S back.
Father.
Something happened:
I
saw another me
Staring
at me
From
across the table:
Like
in some ancient fable.
And I froze.
Too
big of a doze .
An
unaccustomed slap of truth
against
the body
of
my assumed youth.
I
walked the streets of Moscow
In
dismay.
Like
waves during the storm --
against
the bay.
What
would you say?
Said?
Tell?
Told?
Father.
I
got old.
And
then again …
A
dream…
Just
like before…
There
was no scream.
JUST
YOU.
Pale.
Azure-Blue.
Pronouncing
firmly:
DON’T FEAR!
DON’T YOU
FEAR!
RESIST!
RESIST!
DON’T
CRACK!
I
AM YOUR BACK!”
****************************************************************
SOLITUDE #
5
Father.
This
perverted solitude of mine
I
try to shove into a line.
Still
end up empty-handed –
A
Talmudic corpse.
A
day without johns for whores.
Father.
Tell
me,
How
do I smuggle through
love’s
contraband
without
splashing blood –
without
dirt.
You
were the master of diverting hurt.
Father.
I
haven’t learned to mercy-lie.
OPEN MY EYE!
Father.
I
want to smash myself
against
an unmade bed
and
dream of you…
Your
face –
Pale.
Almost
Azure-Blue.
Your
easy gait..
Father.
As I
lie here
measuring
my fate,
WHO SUFFER?
Who
cringe in pain
Upon
the freezing road?
Father.
Please
Help me
bear
this load
of
boredom.
Of
dross.
Of
drab.
Of
days like stones
dead.
Of
word ‘ALONE’.
You
know,
the
crab inside my head --
It
flies.
THERE ARE NO LIES.
Father.
I
write for you.
I
always did and will.
As
you commanded,
I’ll
drag the stone uphill –
Like
a new Sisyphus –
With
disregard for gain.
I
know you saw a different terrain –
Just
and Immense.
Through
the mosaic vision of your lens,
From
now on, I will look on
and
sift through trash
that
constitutes my soul.
Father.
I
will be able to transform
between
two states.
Of
generosity.
And
pure pain:
one
that is not your own.
I’ll
lose disdain
for
that which isn’t mine.
And
finally learn
to
shove this solitude
into
a line.
Father!
…IT STILL SHINES THROUGH!...
Still
tears.
The
moon –
It
glares
with
its toothless grin
from
the hole above –
the
cosmic dark.
Father.
I
feel vacant.
Dried
out
Like
a bark of a tree
Upon
which teens carved out
their
names –
interchangeable
–
absurd.
Father.
I
hurt.
I
really
HURT.
…But…
For a time…
Not
for THE time.
You
see,
like
waves – it comes and goes…
A
solitary crow
sits
for hours
and
stares at me
as
if into a mirror.
from
boredom at the sight,
it
lets out a shrill.
Father.
How do I go on if life has
lost its
thrill?!
I
know…
I go
on sadly.
With
remorse.
Buried
in solitude.
Father,
Where
are you to endorse,
refute
my
words,
my
deeds?
My
days have turned into loose beads
that
have not known the happy weight of thread?
Father.
I
know the dread.
And still
I
will NOT say:
Why
have you forsaken?
Where
have you gone?
My
rage is with me.
But
pain…
Pain
is done for….
For, rage is aimed at OTHERS
And
you,
My
father –
The
only pure source of my despair –
will
always bear
with
me.
With
my faults.
Nothing.
PURE NOTHING
follows
me and haunts,
like
you would say,
‘with
yet unheard sounds’.
Father.
All
doubts
scrammed
like
devils from paradise.
FATHER.
NOTHING.
NOTHING DIES…
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