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Saturday, 14 January 2017

Poem: Fever dreams


As the blackness of ink soaks through the snow white pages
so does the breathing get harder and the heartbeat races
as you fight your ghosts in the shadow tunnels
making sense of your fever dreams
revelation always follows after the moment
you want to surrender and stare into the abyss
it takes years for us to develop strong spines
first we develop fragile cells and flesh, bones we create much later
we lose our shape living in the modern world
we've forgotten and destroyed most of ancient wisdom
there are many hard battles we fight
inside of ourselves and by ourselves
for we've never learned trust
and helping others is under-rated
we weren't born to this earth to walk it alone
sometimes it seems we talk endlessly, but fail to say a thing
we rather keep it locked up,
either we find the right path or we get lost,
hearts have the knowledge of healing,
but the mind remembers and lingers to details
since it is the fiercest critique
can you still distinguish real from fake?
can you still tell who is the writer of your life?
is time taking our dreams away?
*

Saturday, 31 December 2016

Poem: Lifetime Warriors

Unsplash
We're multilayered. Like a colourful woolen sweatshirt.
Not everyone can see, how many layers we carry -
for we hide behind them like a shield.
Since we know the world can be a lone, hard and cold place -
we hide for fear of being seen. We fear that people will get to know us
and abuse us for their own purpose. Most of all - we fear being hurt.
We express ourselves through words and deeds;
Still there is much being unsaid, which only flickers
somewhere in the distance - inside our eyes.
We find comfort looking at the night sky,
because answers wait there for us.
There is a lot of difference between every hello & goodbye.
The one that comes last, always hits the hardest.
Regrets of things undone sweep in - they can fill a book.
Here and there life reminds us of the true purpose.
We're still discovering ourselves, the multitudes that surround us;
Searching for meaning of our lives, between the work that we do
and the bills we have to pay, and the things we wish we were doing
or wish we'd had. All the things we're so afraid to do and to be -
afraid to love,
afraid to be fragile,
afraid to show our skins,
afraid to shed our masks,
seems so minor and foolish when you stare into the abyss.
We shouldn't love for a reason, when the reason disappears, so does the love.
We're chasing each other through the plains of stardust
time does not exist there.
Deep inside we know who we are and where we come from -
we make arrangements of the parts and lessons we will give each other.
Not really knowing how it will feel, the path we will endure.
When our hearts collide together it feels like jumping into the fountain of peace.
There is something so familiar when skin touches another skin.
We're warriors, and we roam these endless fields,
writing our stories. Each and every one unique. In it,
we're never alone. Touching and crashing into each other.
Lifetime, seems a fleeting moment. No one can really die,
             if they stay in our hearts.
*

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Blog: Keep calm and run on

Ollie, so easy to love
2016 -  A year that Chernobyl generation turned thirty. When you're a teenager, it seems such a long way ahead, and how old you will feel, but once you get there, you don't know what all that fuss is about. Few days ago I saw a quote on Facebook, that goes something like this "When you take up running you say 'I run'. After a while you say 'I'm a runner'". It feels like I reached that part. Beginnings are hard, but our bodies are well adapted to running or to say it better "we are born to run". 
This year I ran about 790 km, biked 130 km and hiked 160 km. I participated 2 organized runs of 10 km. I got 3 minor injuries, but one of them was caused by a dog, so it's not all because of my clumsiness. Besides, if the owner would have pulled the leash, it wouldn't have happened. The one injury that worries me the most is patellar tendonitis, since it can take up a lot of time before it gets healed. Here's a link, if anyone else is having trouble with it. And of course it's on the knee that was already operated. I wasn't thinking about it before, but when I look back, that arthroscopy might have been a quick fix, but it may not have been the best option.
Many people still comment, that running might not be good for me, since I have knee problems, but they seem not to know, that running on unpaved roads and forest's path can heal the knees. Since regular exercise actually stimulates repairing of the knee cartilage, for example. I feel the knees start to ache if I take a few weeks off, not that I do, but some injuries demand rest. Knees are such a fascinating joint. Did you know that "The load distributed over the kneecap can be up to 5 times the body weight, particularly on going down stairs."? Mind and body function much better with regular doses of running ;)
Otherwise, this year was very interesting, taught me a lot. I participated in a sport massage course, got myself a massage table, got a new job (the pay is better, but it seems impossible to find a well-organized joy in healthcare system), moved, took up gardening and building. Started a big project and have a few more ideas up my sleeves :) But about time, Enya says it best.

For the end I'll share another video - Ode to joy; for some reason it has a deep impact on me, and I bite my lips not to cry every time I hear it.
A new year, a new day, holds a lot of possibilities, and it's up to us to see them and make them a reality. I wish things to move forward and start changing... and I'm wishing you a happy new year ;)

Sunday, 25 December 2016

Poem: Rat Race

stock photo from pixabay

it's hard to begin, to explain
- to put it simply
when, how and where it all started
but most of all why -------- ?
why have we became selfish mirrors
putting all the importance on ourselves
always running the rat race with no goal
our egos hungry for luxury and power
our eyes blind and closed shut
so easily led astray, somehow comfortable
with our living -- like in a TV set
allowing this machine to continue the massacre
how can we live so comfortably with it?
how can we still turn a blind eye?
when it could be you on the other side
as if it's not in our interest to live in peace together
when will we clear our minds and stand tall
prove that humanity still lingers in our hearts?
have we buried our true selves too deep?
have we learned nothing at all?
*

Friday, 11 November 2016

Poem: Talk



After the rain of our imagination the leaves vanish
in the moonless darkness, away from sight, they whisper
can't count the nights spent decoding the stream of colours
sweeping inside my own skin, this life paints us
every possible shade and tone
to see the picture you have to listen beyond the silence
it's a shelter to let these written words speak for themselves
for we too often get lost in speech
we say less than we mean to say
and hope somebody received the message through
courage fails us or do words leave us?
we talk, yet who is still listening?
it's like speech has become a way
for us to admire our own voices
we talk and talk, yet we change nothing
our promises aren't followed by deeds
those who listened have become weary
anticipating the moment when we will
have nothing more to say
we like to argue about right and wrong
                justice and equality
but it seems too difficult to choose the harder right
are our real faces hiding behind the clutter
of old ideas, wishes, hopes and mistakes
have they nailed us to the ground
and we lay there comfortably
because we've given up on how it could be?
seasons and years give us opportunities
to improve and to change
and don't stand for less
sit down to talk and listen
about everything and nothing at all
dive deep inside
and bring back the real you -
and be raw.
*

Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Poem: Years weigh differently in the heart


fiery surface of the river shining against the blue sky
golden pathway leading through the forests
- dressed in the autumn cloak
you may not notice it at first, but mirrors disappear
in the light of the nature at its finest
shadows of buildings haunting the dawning of the day
and I keep on singing the old familiar song about aloneness
lyrics lay on the tip of my tongue, can taste it in a kiss

our history is soaked through and through with blood spilled
yet the oceans remain deep blue and green
of todays' blood maybe the next generations will speak
they will be the judge of the fools we've been
it's up to them to select the books they will believe
much remains unwritten and unsaid
death still scares us, we keep distancing ourselves from it
until it reaches somewhere close to our hearts

how many days do we have to spend
before they are worth something to us?
how do you count the years
when they weigh differently in your heart?
we prefer to value something when we start to lose it
how many paths will we discover
before we find the right purpose of our lives
and decide it's time to follow it

will we ever achieve everything we set our minds to do
or are we just chasing those shadows
of dreams long gone, the ideas
that keep on slipping away
soaked with tears and sweat
how long before you know the role
you were meant to play?
maybe the one you never would have signed for

can you still recall the feelings
of all the masks you threw away
having learned everything or nothing at all
striving to keep the picture together
the over-valued science of being busy,
successful, yet poor in original thought
in the long run, the question is
which memories matter most?
*
It's a coincidence that this poem came together on the threshold of my 30s, but it's influenced by the books I'm currently reading and the things I keep on pondering.