Monday, September 20, 2021

20 Марта, 2020

I would collect all the scattered pieces
of my energy, sweep 'em up off the 
ceiling floor, tuck their ends into 
time for myself, into dreams, into 
tea time with creation, into хюгге, away 
from everyone's eyes. I would hand
them over to myself & keep them 
with the Universe, away from fear,
dry, alive & real.
Yet instead I will colour 'em & let 
them be as part of sharing 
space, the result of an 
explosion of my soul.

Sunday, July 18, 2021

Your eccentric behavior bizzares me

Dismissive, he described me. I was only respecting his work space. Isn't it odd - now I'm on the other side, thinking to myself: I don't read your inner abstraction; unless you want me to. We have different communication styles - I print, he calligraphies. 

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Double Third

 I scarf down caution stickers,

safety off the floor

Yet my heart is still beating with elecricity,

excitement, propelling something into my body

I have felt before

Spontaneity left,

survival settled in

I looked the other way when music played

just like I look away from




Saturday, July 3, 2021

6am inspirations

Walked into the kitchen
Caught the smell of coffee
for a second
But no, it's just the rat and I
What's a lie
and what's the truth
What is left
and where's wrong
Letting go of control
Does it matter in the end?
I stretch out on the floor
But it's moving
the bus is moving
"One day baby, we'll be old
Oh baby, we'll be old
Think of all the stories that we couldn't told... "



Would there be art, music
without ache, ego
Would there be anything
'cause I'm sick of it all.
All of it.


Dancing through it all,
twirling away
can't stop feeling
for the traps under my foot
And if I find them
I'll grow
And if I don't I'll fly
Letting go
Watching myself
trying on a trick
to disappear
Letting go
Making a new habit
of not standing in the way
of the dance



ate my flowers
the apricot tree
Can't look at what else
I'm going to yoga 



Только что вспомнила, как мы, будучи детьми, вылазили на крышу 9ти этажки. Представила своих детей на крыше, и чуть ли не умерла на месте. Что нас останавливало постоянно туда лазить? Страх бездомных заросших мужиков, живущих на этих чердаках. Ужас. Заброшенные стройки отдыхают. 


I'm sat here for breakfast
with a Demon
(the tea was my idea, he showed up uncalled)
It sounds so Regal
but I keep sitting
and I keep looking
He's just a scared child
of mine



I crossed the ocean
with something on my mind
But turned out I
had no vocabulary for it
Sad landing.


All the more I'm enjoying this life
with all its insanities, wisdom and elegance
With all its grace, depth and complexities
You're a part of it
And I am grateful for that.


If I have to drive a stake
into the heart
to mark my free spirit
So be it 



When did I start ending the days
instead of letting them be
whatever they want



Summer dust
I don't think I would mind
if I had no shoes


I fall in love
roughly three times each day
You'd think it's a hyperbole
or a fleeting kind of summer breeze
Yet it sweeps in and settles deep in me
for life
Here's the first one of my day:


- I can't get into her head
and it's making me frail
- Listen, man, to know her in detail
all you have to do is to
know yourself



My eyes have been feasting
on Spring moods, feelings, grasses
clouds, shadows
Its whole being
being born out of sleep
awakens in me something
I can't remember but that
which I yearn for while
pulling in the yarn laid behind
lest I stumble upon it
and remember the fractals in the sky



I can lie to myself all I want but my body won't let me 



Feels like I could have lived
many lives
in these past nine years
that have grown around me
so swiftly
since I moved my heart here
to Crestone
2 June, 2012



Night of no Italian florid ballads
Dirnt doo-wop whockah
Drink-real perforated with
tom-tom & thwack rataplan
Pump-a-rum basal popular
& sooo impressive
Sweet barbaric, eerie familiar
twang chihusien wah wah
Whizz of rotten Crestone ethic
Vocally triumphant mum lub dub hackigi-gi-gi
Gobbledygook at times
Bash! Baraaag badum tish!
Gada-gada-gada flog
Then remorseless thwack
Wob wob wooooob breeeaaa bum
brrum brrrumble
Rowdy esoteric toot
Raucous-spirited jam in town.



The sea is it
the ocean - a he
Today I pretend they're she
like the water they're made of
And I see how they're all
intimately connected
Half of what I've wanted to become
I already am.



Tell me the point of
human intelligence
Everything brilliant
comes from the Source
Put on our Hades cap
fighting ourselves
What have you
to say



I can't see why
I can't say how
it seems my life
is being built
upon the struggles
of all around
And it's been hard
to watch



No matter how this or that
you've picked to be in this life
Your soul is august alike Universe


I watch how one thought
can change the past
I chuckle
and up my tea dose
It's here now, my next thought
that's about to change
my future.
I've asked for this
over and over again
Wanted to do everything
Now that it's here, in my face
I'm the same, same
Every conversation
every interaction
is self-discovery
If you're honest enough
I take off my robe
Straighten out, stretch
I give up the morning
reluctantly, painfully,
asking it
to leave me something
to be in
It's the bird song.
my Mary mornings
unmarred by thought
hard to let go of
I will see you off
into the darkest
into the deepest
reality that doesn't exist here
A place that's not a place at all
I will take your fire arrows
that you'll send from there
and carefully lay them into
an iron chest
Their lace smoke will
smudge this space
When you're ready
the moon will greet you
the sun will warm you
Your body reborn
your soul awakened
We'll welcome you.



Do I choose the view or the sanity?
Jazz or the symphony?
Poetry in which language?
And why do I have to choose...

forbidden photo 18.V.2021

As I fall apart a little louder every day
years pour out of me, months of silence
I thank and thank those close to me
for willingly getting covered with the thick
tacky, sappy, fermented pain that's not theirs
and those who come out of nowhere
sharing the warmth of their hearts with me
giving gifts of love I don't remember
I thank you
I thank you.


You won.
But somehow it doesn't feel like much.
Onto the next person you go...



Iberian statues
would have been fun
to discover on the bottom of Siene
painted by Picasso
in summertime


I look at people,
but how often I recognize them
as people 


Today I repent
all my anger, distrust
and annoyance
every passionate moment
of evil
Today I finally felt
oh, god
my energy waste
You must see it as well -
that gold ocean
out of which in one thought
a river can flow -
the precious supply
to be weaved into
of our dreams.


Three loads of laundry - done
the house is mopped and cleaned
the dishes - put away
my kids are fed:
like every day
it must be Mother's Day,


Day by day
and every moment I accept
and grab her hand
It's cold, it's soft, or maybe red
It tugs on me, she walks with me
And shows me wild, wild worlds.
The comfort and
the knowing she's always here
with me, for me
In sickness and in health
The hands of Titan Thoughts.
So tell me, how could I let go of that?


When we bow,
our heart is above our head.
Not a bad place to be
a few times each day.


We have to own every beautiful
thing we see,
every person, every living thing,
do we?
Some of us are fed by the Sun,
we achieve, succeed, we collect,
bring it home. We sum.
All and sundry we want,
sinking ships in the sea.
When desires befall
don't let go of me.


My rationality, my practicality
is everywhere, in everything.
It tiptoed in and slithered itself onto me.
I noticed. I let it. I must have. I must have?
It was kilometers from here. I wrap myself
with that long road, and sit and tea.
I watch my assertion make sense of clouds,
of invisible longings inside - somewhere below
my lungs...
And I balance by growing flowers from my chest,
by feeling the heat of my hands, by planting
good seeds


Which part of me
is always asking to be filled -
the heart, the head, the gut?
Is it my grey matter
nosing for new experience?
Which part of me is
so attached to a routine,
which part is scared of losing?


That was last night
today's a new view
Don't be left behind
you'll grow old


Dear Moirai,
is it parking lot's lot to be parked on?
Is it my stars to be among insanity?
Is it my time to disagree with you?


I'm not bored at you.
But sometimes your words don't attract any thoughts.
It's a pause. And it's nice.
Yet some times there's a deep exploration
that unravels the source, ties into oceans,
washes the shores.
And that's nice.


Time is relative, even in Breguet's world.


I remember the first time I saw a woman drink.
It was my beloved grandpa's sister, I thought.
She was heavy, rasp, used to being here.
A quick shot of vodka, then laughter.
I was shocked. I thought only men drank.
I remember the first time I saw a woman smoke.
She was a young school girl. So feminine and beautiful.
I was shocked. I deemed her a prostitute, sitting there,
on the park bench, waiting for guys to notice.
I don't remember how I found out about the Red Light District,
I do remember an older male friend,
who played the guitar for us,
wishing for me to be older.
I remember other things, many things,
that turned my world upside down.
I knew they weren't right. But what could I do.
And what can I do now...


Funky sun in the south
a friend, a pup, a car
Driving away to great jazzy music
Goodbye, papa!


(if I only I knew then...) 


Shifting priority from human relations
to interactions with nature, music
and heart
paying attention to concepts
is somehow new in my world.
Yet I see how we build our
relationship with everything that
does and doesn't exist
is what makes us unique.
I just changed.


I tuned my guitar,
I lost two strings.
My ax balalaika,
my friend with a lisp.



This low kitchen counter
brings down my self-esteem
as I hunch over it
many hours a day.
Standardized living
is killing
the soul.


Instead of laundry, dinner, dishes and cleanup I just sat there and ate sunflower seeds. Because
I'm here to tell ya honey
That I'm bad to the bone
Bad to the bone
Bad to the bone

are amazing,
from both ways.
Take responsibility to work
with your emotions
inside your boundary,
your light egg.
Reach out with only love.


The fractal of life
doesn't have to end
with my experience of it.
I will keep creating
in every every.
My eyes never see the same sunrise,
let my mind be anew anow, aforever.


misleading in appearance,
is a grand beginning
of muliebrity
since no one will trace
this rocket going into space
to me


he once forgot the word 'egg',
because he put the word up
against the white wall
and didn't see it right away.
we can't out-imagine the universe,
I tell you,
unless we go outside of it.
who can?


High Priestess
you are,
don't look away.
I'm here to tell you
to take back all your power.
No one can lie to you,
for you always know.
Men's weapons are but toys
compared to what you have.
Now sit with me.
I need an army.


There are things everyone knows the reason for, but no one talks about. And once you start taking about it, no one can explain that reason. 



I am rewriting my past
And maybe sooner
I will be able to see you
as you.


The relationships
with myself, people,
plants, dirt, animals,
elements and all thoughts,
my relationship with events
and circumstances,
kinship with the Universe -
are all I have.
Better make 'em good.


as we put our roots down
we also tend to build all around:
structures of
habits, rituals, networks, routines...
Careful then to not end up in a cage.


I must acknowledge music
for my survival.
It fills the bottom of my body
as if feeding me love.
It lets my heart pour out,
as if I'm the one holding the frequency.
The Pattern, the Flower, the Wave
of Life.
The purpose of sound is silence.


In the morning it came -
the thought.
It opened into
the big realization,
one of millions,
just like the sunrise
it came with,
just like the song
that accompanied it.
Another beginning,
a mother of new life.


We're drowning in the
alphabet rearranged
every day.
At least let's make sure
there's light behind it.


There's a full moon inside
of me
Yet I feel so flattened.



I am a seed with endless lives, a noxious species.


Running from reality
I am too.
Until it becomes new reality.
What's the illusion?




I felt lexically homeless
when a whale spirited in
He played wind he whistled
Finned through me
There are many many other ways -
he thought to me

Saturday, June 26, 2021

Tell me, how did we get here?

I hear gunshots in the dark
ripping echo through the nightdreaming woods
Tearing the lace of life
residue of lead, fear
Smokefall blanket for all of us
Missed heartbeat
My feet sweating tears not in my eyes

Friday, June 18, 2021

To Crestone, Baca and beyond

There's an old expression named Comfort Zone. It sounds cozy and safe, while in reality it's our cave of fears that we're used to living in. Let's be honest, we've adapted to it, we're in it. It's not a comfort zone. Please put some thought into this. 

Let's look around us. We're here in the mountains, living in awe of the beauty around us, every day being grateful to be here. It's a tad dry, but still gorgeous, and we're in touch with it. People are great, too. Visitors are kind and thankful. We're so perfect on the outside. 

It used to be lush here, we hear. It was busy with airplanes, money, sageness. And then it dried up. Ever wonder why?

In the past couple of years we had 3 (maybe more) major drug houses disappear from the Baca. But they were there, for years. Some burned down in Moffat. Crestone is now famous not only for the enlightening retreats, but also for a missing young woman, who was raped repeatedly and accidently killed; it's famous for Love has Won; it's famous for its drug use (you just won't find it on the white internet). We have a drug cartel in the Valley. We have people struggling with mental health, right here in our community, committing suicide, or otherwise suffering. There are random people spilling in from nearby places, driving around asking our women for blowjobs. There's never-ending theft. We have youth who seem to be unnoticed, being creative on their own, finding their roles in the world, while we have no youth center in sight, providing just the sidewalks to ride bikes on and to skateboard. The liquor store is a busy, busy hub. Police is a joke. We're in poverty. There are things happening you will never believe me if I told you.

Crestone won't be riding on the Spiritual Center train for long. Look for yourself. 

And you know what can change all of that? Art, music and literature. 

Anyone exposed to mindful art and music and literature for just a few minutes each day will have their lives changed. It's a fact. We need to understand this. 

There are musicians in town sharing their music, their love and their time with all of us. Professional and amateur musicians providing music, entertainment and education. And they're running into political obstacles and neighborly complaints. Everyone needs to be aware of this. 

I am not asking you to get out of your Comfort Zone today and act on the urge to better our town. But I am asking you to start thinking differently. That alone with bring all the lushness and riches back to us. There is a way to live like we belong in this ocean, with ease and grace, without the fear of losing something, or everything.

Thursday, April 1, 2021


      Heartbreaking to realize how much drug & alcohol use my family is surrounded with. What is it all about, I sat down to think. An escape. Escape from reality. Do I do it, too? Books, food, music, bills, tea, sleep, information, social media, turning the other way, thinking things will go away or appear on their own, daydreaming, not living in harmony, not accepting change... I escape reality all the time. But then where do I live? Do I swap one reality for another, non-stop? Stop! which is the original? 

Maybe it's the one born out of love. 

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

5am Inspirations 2021

dumpster diving
for true love
you ought to get cleaned up now

For a long
time I thought I had to match
what I made on the other side
to this side
for balance, for beauty.
Today I saw that one
side is already its own fractal.
Happy New Year.

Thank you for showing me how rude I've been to myself. Thank you for telling me I deserve better. Your ways don't always look straightforward, the events have gotten violent because I couldn't hear you when your voice was still soft. I get it now. It's all for me and you. It's all from me and you. They're short, yet very powerful, these 100 years. I can wait to be fully you again. I can create Your magic here. Our magic. Now.

So much so much
I want to share with you.
And all while
watch your smile,
the sun rays you produce.
That spontaneous dance
you gift me
I will dance.

When the tears dried
It came to be:
the choice is always here.
To laugh, be, eat, see, love
or not.
The most freeing of them all -
to live or leave.
Such sudden power.

I scroll and I scroll
and what do I see?
Judgments and creatures
crawling out of me.
Toki Pona, excitement,
discovery of self -
what a great Silk Road
we've all collectively made.

I'd molded myself
to make someone else comfortable,
It didn't do either of us
any good.

Логос и хаос,
аккорд без терции...
Жизнь и смерть,
человек и искусство.
Волна должна совпасть.
- Казиник

Tea is a pause
in which
to see
all that I am
for & against
the ebbing of my life

I did something I thought I never could
And the clouds started to move the other way.
I am alive without belonging to any thought.

I said, no more fires -
I made a mistake.
I'm gathering fears, black
ripping away,
setting myself ablaze.
Not everything we lose
are desires.

The new up-and-coming
is slinging drugs on the side
to fathers.
Tears of
signs of
I bet my all on biased numbers,
I lost it all.

Timid souls hiding in the day
behind collections
of books, clothes, dinner plates.
Coming out at night
to play
on the astral plane.
Feeling like they're standing
in front of a door,
a breakthrough the next day.
Eternal souls
having some horseplay

I created this, therefore I can change it.

Changes are so swift
I'm enjoying cracking them
open, daily.
The insights, comings-to,
nothing is lacking.
I'm loving this view,
no bragging.

Our human advancements
set us back.
Sshhhh, listen,
isn't it fascinating?

She dips her demitasse
into my bowl,
scooping tea.
May my vessel be always
full. For her.

I said, enough! I put the hat
They all blew up, another layer
No harm to anyone.
And now I can say my
whenever I so beau

I dreamt last night to the full Moon
that I walked away from abuse
and darkness.
Drew a different circle,
I made love to Music & Science,
I was caressed by Art, Strength,
I saw how deficit, defeat and loss
were left red-eyed,
half-naked, disoriented, behind
in that old apartment building
where my car lost its flywheel.
Everytime I get used to amazement
Amazement wildly gushes in.

Yes, I have fears.
Bêtes noires of being alone,
of being unsupported.
Why am I still afraid of that
which has already happened?
Fear is a self-realizing prophecy. It comes true as our wishes. That, which we are afraid of, is what we want, on the soul level. This game has high stakes, it's being played out in the Eternity. From the point of view of the Eternity, this physical stuff is secondary. Our eternal soul is what matters. And the soul will call. If I don't listen, the physical will start unraveling. How else can my soul get the point across? With disease, ache, pain, death of everyone around.
I woke up this morning, my first thought was "Yes, I have fears!" And once I accepted that, and took responsibility, my life unraveled some more, in minutes.
Today I am getting on the path of being the Creator. That's what my soul wants. "Create!" - I was told a minute later. Can't make this up. Let's play!

Behind the fog I see golden temples.

When in the midst of a huge life chaos of mine I decided to have children, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about how I was going to teach them to fly, to be themselves, to be happy. Now I'm forcing myself out of my skin to figure it out. I want them to pick up a piece of gravel off the road and turn it into a space rocket of the mind, into a cow, a pair of skis, a ticket, or an end to all wars. Because it's possible. Their Universe is not only endless, but it keeps expanding in its endlessness. They will never run out of amazement, they will never come to a stop. But I can't teach them in words...
Everything must change again.

Harvesting milk for tea in the dark
Twins playing with a golden Moon
a ship, fire clouds, party stars
birds and animals, fish, myths
no up, no down

The first time I leave the house as if I'm coming back, I won't.

I've shot all messengers from before.
Suddenly, I know what the messages are for,
where they came from, how they never stop.
Time to end the massacre.

These years of stress and flight, and fight
take toll,
form habits that fly out first,
no matter who's in front of you.
There's no other force that can compare
to a woman in distress,
for she'll destroy in fury the very things
that hold the world intact.
With quickness she takes out every
man, woman, dog
with every weapon that exists -
the tongue, the beauty, sword, a book,
a chair, if need be.
It's terrifying. In part,
because she will rebuild it all
with her own soul.
But now I'd like to learn
how instead of burying myself, the bodies,
I make things grow
in love
as first reaction
to the injustice
to my love.

Lost: tools for storytelling.
Backgrounds, ancient woods,
trajectories of love, stars, planets,
scales of dragons, fish, of music,
all waters of the Universe,
yours and mine moods,
maps, wings, and wishes,
all kinds of things that can unfold forever.
If found: look inside.

Snow and third birthday are here,
flowers, tea, chocolate are about to be.
And I'm years away, remembering,
snowed by everything,
dazzled by it all.

Watching fractals in the sky
Despite the mountain being tall,
despite dark clouds
the light is walking in.
Am I still looking at the world
with eyes of days gone by?

Dark outside,
the horizon is on its time.
Sparklers of ideas inside,
crafting my world

My tea is 42 second long.
I sip some after every thought;
my Vinyasa.

I love to play connect.the.dots with the Universe. I know in advance, of course, that they will all connect, just not sure how!

Instead of “How are you?” we should be asking: “What are you dealing with today? What are you struggling with?” Because I don’t know a single person who’s not hurting in some way. And I know we all want to be seen. Not many know or want to heal or go beyond the pain. I do. I see you. I can’t always acknowledge you because of my own. Pain is always speaking, it’s always telling you something, showing what the soul wants. If only you were cold or hot, but you’re just warm. Choose to live, like you did before you came in.
Вселенская любовь доступна каждому. Надо только ей открыться. Она вливается в нас каждую секунду. А мы способны её взять и показать другим: через слова, руки, через музыку, поступки… Это и есть наше предназначение. Это помощь другим; через свою щедрость мы познаём и исцеляем себя, и Вселенная через нас познаёт себя. И получается так красиво!

I was little. I said: "I want to love everyone." And the Universe replied: "Here." and when I grew up gave me assholes, rapists, narcissists, addicted, afflicted, suicidal men and women, and those who simply couldn't care. "Love them," - she said. Why did she do that? So I could learn to love myself first.

I want snowdrops and lilies of the valley
to bloom everywhere I go,
everywhere I am,
to hold me in a hug
of the Universe.

If I could feel deeply enough
I would catch reflections before
they solidify into events, into people.
They'd be like lace veils
that I could see through -
movable, liftable, wrappable.
And then I'd dance behind
into a different world
and I'd come back
to feel

I admit, it's nice when people don't know you well enough to be happy to see you.
I admit, it's nice when people don't know you well enough and are happy to see you

I own the house that's in my heart,
I choose what goes in.

Things that change
your dreams,
the structure of your bones,
the sunrise mood,
the way you touch the world,
are coming.

Hair Oracle
I could chop it and leave.
Or leave it and stay
for a bit longer...

In wonder I watch how my gaze stops
at objects
and doesn't go farther.
Furthermore, neither does my thought.

For everything I feel,
there's always a "do":
For everything I think,
there's a "do", too.
Can't stop the motion,
But can I stop the doing?

I name my tea bowl Lady Danube,
for I dream it overflows with Matcha,
in all abundance, all desires, greed,
smiles, dancing, tears.
May all the things be done with Lady Danube
in my left hand.

Looking up from 38 at 88 I say, "Hello,
Cepheus, Bears, Cygnus... I'm waiting
for the false dawn, am I too early?
What number are you, Com? I'm one
of two, I'm also one and only, one out of
eight billion...
Why don't you say anything?"
"You are Eternity."

Some days I feel like my child is smuggling milk into the Universe, she drinks and drinks, and drinks... Some days I know I'm smuggling milk in from the Universe, to fill her need.

Nahuatl coyotes singing outside,
They kept their accent, still, after millions of moons.
Celebrating in the night, there are many gathered.

Было бы у меня время проанализировать текущую жизнь, я бы, наверное, ужаснулась. Но меня спасают дети, от излишней умственной деятельности...

To go to the party I must sneak out through the window, from my kids, partner; walk quietly in the woods, in full costume, be picked up on a dark side road; smoke a samokrutka with an awesome human, turn music up, boom! Boom!
I'm thirty seven... not seventeen...

I have many ideas, but I don't know physics, is what my dad says. And so there they are, hanging motionless, breaking rules of the Universe.

Moonlight came in through the window and into my dream. I looked at the source. Moon marbles reflected me back to me.

Nature's gray this time of year stands out, brings balance, takes away the minus. My kids' pink reminds me of confidence and mission, orange brings everything together. I'm painting with nitrogen, and that's how things flow.

My eyes open like the gates of the dam lifting up, flooding with thoughts. 'morning.

Скрипичный Ключ
The door has been crying, it wants to be an opera singer. I didn't really gave it much thought at first, shared some hyaluronic acid, thought it was an appearance complex. Now it's high notes, shredding my morning peace. I need to find a lending ear, a tutor, comforting grease. Maybe a YouTube video of other doors' dreams.

I've arithmomania. I see you, I count you, can't hide behind an angle. But next time I see you, I don't remember you much.

You know, I'm going to amend 24/7 to 24*7. And then occasionally I'll throw 168/wk in there and here.

One never really knows what can be found under a kid’s blanket in the morning: a lego piece, a puddle, a lighter, a glow stick, a guitar string, a tangled dream? A love confession, a warm hug, tomorrow’s crumbs… I don’t know how they do it, this weaving of above and below into my smile.