Poem – Nothing Changes

We might to live and survive
in our misery and pseudo-freedom
another quarter of century or even more,
but hope not for changes.

Yes, nothing changes
from such stagnant and deadly existence,
and a living standards of Europe,
even if it was fallen Greece
suffering from crises
left beyond our reach as fairy-tale mysterie,

while we are not to stop
right now and forever
to lie
and skip with propaganda.

Yes, we are all,
our president, prime-minister,
parliament, gubernators,
majors, human rights keeper
and civil society leaders,
our writers and journalists
must stop to lie
to each other’s
to our people, country
as under the penalty for death sentence.

Nothing happens
while we continue
to play this evil games
trying to find own justice and sucker-candy continuum
in company of post-soviet bandits and stealers in power,
when all science, knowledge computers and their programs,
sophisticating and increasing only art of profanation.

Damn all these post-soviet tricks!
Who could to hook us in belt
right nor from all his craft
for extract out
these poisons of falsehood
by several generations accumulated and multiplied
and printed in our blood?

Nothing changes
even if we will live and survive
another centure
under the guide of our stupid lieders
most successful and immortal
in their tricks, lies and propagandas.

Poem – England or Death

England or Death! –
proclaimed illegal migrants
from Senegal, Nigeria, Libya, Afghanistan
attacking Caley tunnel
I am to have got my spade
and digging own personal tunnel
navigating toward small aisle in North Sea
to the dear England
through entire body of Earth,
as prol from Wells fantastic novel
one day I hope get out there
in the marvelous garden of future
in the country inhabited
by so polite and delicate gentlemen
and so nice and strong woman,
I don’t know what the reason for
we are all going there
and seeking what
running out from our paradise
in Senegal, Nigeria, Libya, Kyrgyzstan
where woman so marvelous
toward the sinking Albion
who need itself for our helps,
attacking by gays, feminists, transvestites’, global warming
and now by the mad immigrants,
proclaiming England or Death?
Go out right to the Hell!
I am too all my live
digging tunnel to England,
not for living and finding shelter here,
but for saving poor Englishmen,
when Ocean drown down their aisle.

Poem – The Anti Darwinism of Love

Nay, even the genius of observing far horisont eagle
soaring in heaven,
carefully selects convenient victim
before attacking down as Death,
so do the fastest runner cheetah
hunting for antilopes
he never run for the swiftest one – yes, ah
up and down the slopes,
and so done flying bullet like falcon,
even issying sound as Mig-35 jet
when he fell down for unhappy prey
shocked by fear and humiliation
with awful sound and blood freezed acceleration.

So do the master of fast slaughtering wolf,
and even domestic cat,
and crafty bear and vivid sable
they are all not playing with over expensive tricks.

All these animals and birds
from the best championships in wild world
giving us the clear hunting methodology
and excellent lesson for surviving,
the great advice for them
who inclined for madness from love,
from money hunting, searching glory
and other expectances extraordinarily
as for our dear tamed gini-pig, pigeons, sheep and doves
never ever target for yourself
the most unreachable aims and dreams.
Learn from primarily nature.
Eagle do not plunge
for the non-ordinary deer
cheetah do not risked
hunt to recordsman spring back
and the celestial falcon
chooses among the pigeons
the weakest one,
and wolf never pointed
the strong mountain sheep.
Only mister poet
do not learn at all
the principes of economy of force, energy and possibilities,
ever prefers fours-majors

trying to find, reach, caught and capture
the most fastest
unreal and desirable
beauties, marvels and mists
emerging in nature.

No wonder that such anti-Darvinizm
produced so much failures.

Poem – The Secret of Woman Beauty

What has become as the best makeup for woman?
Her youth, health, nature attractiveness
or just how she get looked to mirror, repaired tresses,
how she smiled and turn to glance?
Maybe mystic lied on her way of wearings,
in her fashion and subtle taste

All these things look as extra-precious
But beauty of soul, perfection of deep knowledge and reason
beyond all competitions and comparisons
as a parts of her grace and eternal elegance.