---------------------------------------------------------------
© Copyright Олег Малахов
Email: omalakhov@acceur.com
Date: 03 Dec 2001
---------------------------------------------------------------
The kisses from you,
slippery streets,
making apple-pies,
socks on the legs,
a word in a crowd,
sex in the kitchen...
go on...
naked children...
what is the reason?
Results of insomnia...
(you disappearing...)
kisses from you left...
break into my soul
my fault
it's broken
so find some place
inside of me
to put your image in
though any way
the emptiness remains
& I confess
I'm incomplete
without faces I possessed
the cages which hide pain
still growing
meaningless ads
announcements permeate
& vanish
permeate & vanish
dark corridors remain
clubs discotheques
magicians play their roles
on festive stages
getting wages
not high
but they don't mind
it has its charm
they rent some rooms
full with some tiny things
they never lie
they won't betray
they have some rules
& in the clubs
in bars
in restaurants
in crowded places
with people all disordered
magicians play their roles
present unknown tricks
& see our happy faces
& all they want
is early morning
clubs discotheques
so fairy world
the age of gold
so magic time
for songs
for love
for hate
for feelings
mutual screams
inner cries
magicians play their roles
they see it all
& definitely want
some more spectators
for the show
& drinking wine
some beer
or something else
some girls
& boys
can easily
turn into phantoms
illusive pictures
save the world
so precious world
magicians look so strange
they lost the audience
they feel all left alone
my friends become unreal
my eyes reflect tears
they no longer recognize light
no blinks
no flashes
ashes
by Oleg Malakhov 26-27.12.97
few insects
on the pavement
results of inner world reflection
mutation of the mind
no meaning
only over-whelming
system of regulation
checking up intensity
of hand-shakes
taste of kisses
the pain degree
while separation
.....................
soldiers
bombs
mankind counting
seconds...
by Oleg Malakhov.
6.04.99.
reorganise me till complete complain
with oaring devil's name while having bright discussion to somebody
claim my waiver till the end of everything
of personification
grab ideas running wild through poetry in boots of extra large
glance memorising someone else with eyes of no conformity and playing
character
god buys in tropical embraces
some decorations gone in vain no less so temporary needed
to note conclusion in her kiss under her open waves of eyebrows recall
between the sense and matrimony
lock of condition lack of luck and look of light lit misery of love
lease me in intro
true
nuisance I am in ad
amine aid
amen
men
end
riding riding riding
through Europe
gothic plastic
fairy- tales
models
staring
making pictures
sleeping
roads become senseful
and we become sensitive
roads
attractive lines
of our broken lives
cities countries
wonders
parties all over Europe
hope
what if you find
the unity
a backbone of civilization
minutes of madness
illusion of wholeness
by Oleg Malakhov (Feb. 1998)
She ensouls me
while I'm staying at the airport
falling into stories after all
she's away
apart from words of mine,
annoying tenderness,
so memorable then...
No miserable pleads
no teasing
no waiting syndromes
no thoughts of jealousy...
but who would care
who would hug me
night long
since her calm movements
(there's no me)
and her plain beauty
(torn in me)
are in a jet
flying away
leaving
deformity
instead.
by Oleg Malakhov (Feb. 1999)
The First Kiss
by Oleg Malakhov
So you think it's easy
I thought it was
I tried just to get closer
Then everything was like I'm drunk
Like I'm completely lost
First kiss
The memories I have are poor
But still I can recall
It was a girl.
A Friend of Rain
by Oleg Malakhov
I'm a friend of Rain
When it comes
I close my eyes
but anyway I see it
and if I try to escape
to find the place
where the sun lives
the walls of Rain
surround me
They love me
These invisible drops
of cloudy tears
And if I died and turned into Rain
I'd find no one to call him
A Friend.
Think of me sometimes.
It's pleasant to know
that someone minks of you
sometimes, one minute a day,
one minute a week or month
or even a year.
Think of me...
And if it's rainy and windy
you are sure to find me
somewhere in the city
looking for something
looking for nothing
thinking of you
every minute
hoping that you
still remember my name.
by Oleg Malakhov
Oleg Malakhov
peaceful morning
lights over departed city
few biological units
under the skies starting to rain
within the wind of coming autumn
the kiss of emptiness
the lost desire
the meaningless and senseless
operations
can you feel the pulses from the pay-phone
the protection of my voice
my eyes
don't see you waving through
the study room to the window
of your childhood memory
stepping on the worn-out toys
and days are of no value
in the place
abundant with the stupid duties
where I am
commencing projects
training tests for personnel
presenting warranties
and having great desire
to break it up
untying tie
unbuttoning my pants
and fully giving up
to act of showing nature
and feeling pulses of your dear vein
on the right side of your delicious neck
your looks go
since tears flow
under the red sun
under the moon
I lost your infinity
powerful time
adds some more
powder to your face
there is illusion in me
that I still feel
permanent taste of your lips
September, 1999
by Oleg Malakhov
All my dreams
Are in Norway
I start painting
Red roses
All the painters
Paint roses
They can smell
Their own roses
All the poets
Write poems
They can feel
Their own poems
But my dreams
Are in Norway
I start watching
The clouds
All the dreamers
See clouds
They can reach
Their own clouds
They can speak
To the clouds
Their way
Is to Norway
I will beg
All these clouds
Just to take me
With them.
I am a little monkey
I have a little key
I can unlock my window
I can be free
I am a little parrot
I can repeat your words
Don't say so many words
So many words
I am a little rabbit
I have a little bell
It sounds like a rain-drop
drip drip drip
by Oleg Malakhov
**
dust memory sensing sailing straws of bamboo flow in toes of middle
autumn
crazy we all
astonished
fabulous dreams are harrowing furore hidden in glances beneath
voluptuousness inhale
addressing to boys an girls with colourless mud on hearts ingrained
and transparent minds lots for behind-leaving-behind
strayed
initiation tissue in sitting system of insane tins
so lucky light installed with stain material and rings memorials
splashed all around the flaming figures
recording voices any click in this community is stressed
strange how it is
**
me (why is it first) indeed
even the evening evidence is vague voting in vacuum vastness of void
me in vain
..
Moscow,
Sentiments over the backyards outside the business activities
14.11.2001
volatile i draw you
flying laying love
beneath above
by Oleg Malakhov
October, 2001
Moscow
© Copyright Олег Малахов
Email: omalakhov@acceur.com
Date: 03 Dec 2001
---------------------------------------------------------------
The kisses from you,
slippery streets,
making apple-pies,
socks on the legs,
a word in a crowd,
sex in the kitchen...
go on...
naked children...
what is the reason?
Results of insomnia...
(you disappearing...)
kisses from you left...
break into my soul
my fault
it's broken
so find some place
inside of me
to put your image in
though any way
the emptiness remains
& I confess
I'm incomplete
without faces I possessed
the cages which hide pain
still growing
meaningless ads
announcements permeate
& vanish
permeate & vanish
dark corridors remain
clubs discotheques
magicians play their roles
on festive stages
getting wages
not high
but they don't mind
it has its charm
they rent some rooms
full with some tiny things
they never lie
they won't betray
they have some rules
& in the clubs
in bars
in restaurants
in crowded places
with people all disordered
magicians play their roles
present unknown tricks
& see our happy faces
& all they want
is early morning
clubs discotheques
so fairy world
the age of gold
so magic time
for songs
for love
for hate
for feelings
mutual screams
inner cries
magicians play their roles
they see it all
& definitely want
some more spectators
for the show
& drinking wine
some beer
or something else
some girls
& boys
can easily
turn into phantoms
illusive pictures
save the world
so precious world
magicians look so strange
they lost the audience
they feel all left alone
my friends become unreal
my eyes reflect tears
they no longer recognize light
no blinks
no flashes
ashes
by Oleg Malakhov 26-27.12.97
few insects
on the pavement
results of inner world reflection
mutation of the mind
no meaning
only over-whelming
system of regulation
checking up intensity
of hand-shakes
taste of kisses
the pain degree
while separation
.....................
soldiers
bombs
mankind counting
seconds...
by Oleg Malakhov.
6.04.99.
reorganise me till complete complain
with oaring devil's name while having bright discussion to somebody
claim my waiver till the end of everything
of personification
grab ideas running wild through poetry in boots of extra large
glance memorising someone else with eyes of no conformity and playing
character
god buys in tropical embraces
some decorations gone in vain no less so temporary needed
to note conclusion in her kiss under her open waves of eyebrows recall
between the sense and matrimony
lock of condition lack of luck and look of light lit misery of love
lease me in intro
true
nuisance I am in ad
amine aid
amen
men
end
riding riding riding
through Europe
gothic plastic
fairy- tales
models
staring
making pictures
sleeping
roads become senseful
and we become sensitive
roads
attractive lines
of our broken lives
cities countries
wonders
parties all over Europe
hope
what if you find
the unity
a backbone of civilization
minutes of madness
illusion of wholeness
by Oleg Malakhov (Feb. 1998)
She ensouls me
while I'm staying at the airport
falling into stories after all
she's away
apart from words of mine,
annoying tenderness,
so memorable then...
No miserable pleads
no teasing
no waiting syndromes
no thoughts of jealousy...
but who would care
who would hug me
night long
since her calm movements
(there's no me)
and her plain beauty
(torn in me)
are in a jet
flying away
leaving
deformity
instead.
by Oleg Malakhov (Feb. 1999)
The First Kiss
by Oleg Malakhov
So you think it's easy
I thought it was
I tried just to get closer
Then everything was like I'm drunk
Like I'm completely lost
First kiss
The memories I have are poor
But still I can recall
It was a girl.
A Friend of Rain
by Oleg Malakhov
I'm a friend of Rain
When it comes
I close my eyes
but anyway I see it
and if I try to escape
to find the place
where the sun lives
the walls of Rain
surround me
They love me
These invisible drops
of cloudy tears
And if I died and turned into Rain
I'd find no one to call him
A Friend.
Think of me sometimes.
It's pleasant to know
that someone minks of you
sometimes, one minute a day,
one minute a week or month
or even a year.
Think of me...
And if it's rainy and windy
you are sure to find me
somewhere in the city
looking for something
looking for nothing
thinking of you
every minute
hoping that you
still remember my name.
by Oleg Malakhov
Oleg Malakhov
peaceful morning
lights over departed city
few biological units
under the skies starting to rain
within the wind of coming autumn
the kiss of emptiness
the lost desire
the meaningless and senseless
operations
can you feel the pulses from the pay-phone
the protection of my voice
my eyes
don't see you waving through
the study room to the window
of your childhood memory
stepping on the worn-out toys
and days are of no value
in the place
abundant with the stupid duties
where I am
commencing projects
training tests for personnel
presenting warranties
and having great desire
to break it up
untying tie
unbuttoning my pants
and fully giving up
to act of showing nature
and feeling pulses of your dear vein
on the right side of your delicious neck
your looks go
since tears flow
under the red sun
under the moon
I lost your infinity
powerful time
adds some more
powder to your face
there is illusion in me
that I still feel
permanent taste of your lips
September, 1999
by Oleg Malakhov
All my dreams
Are in Norway
I start painting
Red roses
All the painters
Paint roses
They can smell
Their own roses
All the poets
Write poems
They can feel
Their own poems
But my dreams
Are in Norway
I start watching
The clouds
All the dreamers
See clouds
They can reach
Their own clouds
They can speak
To the clouds
Their way
Is to Norway
I will beg
All these clouds
Just to take me
With them.
I am a little monkey
I have a little key
I can unlock my window
I can be free
I am a little parrot
I can repeat your words
Don't say so many words
So many words
I am a little rabbit
I have a little bell
It sounds like a rain-drop
drip drip drip
by Oleg Malakhov
**
dust memory sensing sailing straws of bamboo flow in toes of middle
autumn
crazy we all
astonished
fabulous dreams are harrowing furore hidden in glances beneath
voluptuousness inhale
addressing to boys an girls with colourless mud on hearts ingrained
and transparent minds lots for behind-leaving-behind
strayed
initiation tissue in sitting system of insane tins
so lucky light installed with stain material and rings memorials
splashed all around the flaming figures
recording voices any click in this community is stressed
strange how it is
**
me (why is it first) indeed
even the evening evidence is vague voting in vacuum vastness of void
me in vain
..
Moscow,
Sentiments over the backyards outside the business activities
14.11.2001
volatile i draw you
flying laying love
beneath above
by Oleg Malakhov
October, 2001
Moscow