Книго

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     © Copyright Олег Малахов
     Email: [email protected]
     Date: 03 Dec 2001
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     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

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