Author Archives: Nikki
Живя и просто и неприхотливо, На бочке с порохом сидя, Не так уж плох мой срез извилин. Уж точно можно не винить себя. За то, что путь мой необычен, И видно из надзорного окна, Как в клеточку халаты на убийцах, Идут прогуливаться у пруда. А я сижу в этой палате, Уже недели три без сна, Курить можно четыре раза. А выйти будто никогда. Понять мне в миг так трудно, Что это сделает сильней меня. Я искуплю грехи своя, Я не надену униформу, Больничного покроя никогда. Уроки, впрочем, не усвою я. Если чердак опять прорвет, То заберут в наручниках, Тупые два мента в скоряк. И я поеду, как в кортеже, В тот желтый дом на холм. И там мне снова станет трудно, Но также ясно, что я болен. И это мой кармический прием, В психушке повалятся вдоволь. Пока на место голова не встанет. А там, опять в свой теплый дом.
I’d love to see
I'd love to see my path as happy And it for sure is somewhat likely to be called As happy with a bunch of troubles But narrow it is not - it's made of different cards I have my loving family of ladies I have my strong and pretty mom I have my all - my teenage sister And wisest granny is with us We are quite poor - but it is not a trouble We have strong bond and hold each other When someone suffers - we are there to help When it is time to laugh or smile We do it up to tears full of cries We love each other I am a richest person in the world When I see all my ladies smiling When I have them near me When I can also give them helping hand.
I am here to recover
I am not destined to suffer I am here to recover I believe that I can receive I love to help and give. There is something in my mind That I cannot change Though I can forever find That I’m here for you, my dear friend. A mistake is not a problem If you are honest and say sorry It is worse by a mile When you pretend and lie without worry.
We live with different fears
Sometimes it kills our future
I want to disappear someday
And start from scratch
Begin a journey without knowledge
Once I was full of hope
I have been young and stupid
Now I am like a tree
That has no leaves
I do have roots and rigid body
But life is not about trees
It is about journey
That once has started
And may be full of dignity
Or may be full of shame
Or both belong the same
To us at our body
I love to hear the nature
I love to be more silent
I hate to cry
I try to help
Those falling down
And give my friendship
To live in peace
With my own head and soul
For they are my identity
That I can use
For good or bad.
I am recovering and hoping for better
I’d like to write about my last episode of psychosis. It happened this spring. I have been hospitalized for 1,5 months. It all started to happen for me with growing anxiety and overall stress because of the war in Ukraine. I have many relatives in different parts of this country. We have started to communicate more since it began. I keep thinking about this madness. I keep thinking about the cruelty of war. In my opinion, it should stop as soon as possible. But, who am I to decide on whether it should stop or not. I only think that there is little hope for me to stop thinking about it even when it ends. I hope that I am wrong, but this hatred will not end. This suffering does not go along with what humanity should look like. Yes, we are apes, we have all kinds of instincts that can become dangerous, but we also have the intellect to make our life peaceful. We are here for a reason. Every person evolves during his lifetime. I am not an exception. I feel that I am getting older and wiser year after year. I understand that wars happen on a regular basis. Weapons are made to destroy whatever you may imagine. Still, when I think of them it makes me very stressed. I have lived a peaceful life, I do it today as well. Nobody is bombing me, I am not a soldier and never been in the army. Maybe this is why I can write about it. I need it to go somewhere. These are my emotions. I am getting better. I still need some time to recover. But it is what I have been through many times already. I will go on. I will recover. I will see my relatives and friends smile and enjoy my company. I really like people. We are so different, we are unique in our talents. I will never ever say that we are good or bad. If you can’t find a way to forgive a person’s mistake – you are a mistake. If you give someone too many chances – you are an even bigger mistake. But don’t get me wrong. Some people are real animals. And they are not somebody you should hang out with. I hope this text will give a small insight of who I am to those who read my poems and essays. Thank you. It is always a pleasure to read comments. They make me understand that my blog is made not only for me, but for people sharing my opinion and give me more effort to continue writing. It really matters to me. I am not making money and not planning to. This blog is for sharing my emotions, my story and my struggle with mental disorder. It is a challenge that has changed my life completely. I have many thoughts on that, but it is a very long one. Maybe, someday, I will write something big and truly worthy of being proud of. As of now I will learn to write by writing. I have no tutors or mentors. This is only me and a text document.
Мы хотим всегда быть вместе, Но выходит не всегда. Мы хотим меситься в тесте, Как четыре колобка. Мы найдем свою дорогу, В этом у меня сомнений нет. Мы построим дом-чертогу, И посадим липовый букет. Мы найдем себе призванье, Мы отправим каждому букет. Мы поставим на закланье, Всем любимым свадебный венец. Read more
Let us speak…
Pushkin says that nanny is his best friend. I can say that my Granny is equally brilliant. Loving her wisdom, strength and enormous spirit. She is 85. Turned this April. My love, you are an angel. 2 ноября Зима. Что делать нам в деревне? Я встречаю Слугу, несущего мне утром чашку чаю, Вопросами: тепло ль?… Read more
Мы придуманы для света.
We are made to be a light. We are here to see the future. Here we are to bring some now and on… We belong to God. We are made to be divine… We are here to stop the crying… We are here! We are here forever young. Soul is not abandoned. Soul is always… Read more
Мы не можем стать навеки вместе…
Но мы можем бороться за свое будущее… Мы можем все, когда руки скреплены молитвой… Сила слова! Это сила нашего духа! Не бросайте своих детей и матерей… Не ругайтесь матом… Не оскорбляйте свою честь! И верьте в МИР! Read more
Никто не застрахован. Несчастье, старость, гнев. Однако, главное – найти того, Кто жить с тобой захочет… Во имя доброго Отца. Не злитесь почем зря. Но, умоляю, не грубите, Тому, кто старше вас на многие лета. Для друзей… Все мы желаем лучшей жизни, И признать стоит, что боли… Бывают разными в себе. Я рад, что не… Read more
I think I think too much. Forgive me for the pun. I could give my head a rest once in a while. To be honest, I like straining it. And I don’t usually see the coastline. What can you compare with a thought that goes into a stack of scribbled pages with? “Old fashioned” pages of paper. If you have a computer at hand, it’s gone. Literally. Write, till you drop dead. Manuscripts don’t burn, but a laptop and its hard drive can’t be as reliable. Writing in general is rarely of good quality. On one hand we need form and content. We should also find common ground. It would be nice to set the subject. But most often it ends up being autobiographical and too personal. You can’t stay away from it. But it is desirable to let the essay rest until morning to look at it with fresh eyes. Then, if it works, you have to edit it. I’m not very good at editing, either. So what’s the end result? In fact, if I’m attentive to the details of my experience through narration, one in ten essays will appeal to me. And three more will say something about it. On such occasions, I present myself as an ‘exclusive’ and ‘underground’ writer not for everyone. Rome was not built in a day. I did not immediately come to the idea that it was worth sharing my soul. After all, I write from the soul. So I share it. I started a blog. There is prose and poetry. Of varying quality. But I’m trying to turn it all into cohesive content. It’s not perfect yet, but I’m trying. I would like to have regular readers here. But the most regular reader is me. Sometimes I take a break. That’s very important. I don’t turn it into a craft. Maybe I should. But, then, I need someone to point me in the right direction. What needs to be fixed? What to give up and what to add. How to change myself and start writing for real. Oh, if only I knew. I’d be living in Sochi with that kind of money. No, I’d still be living there. And I’d write in the same style. My muse periodically comes to flood my corner with scribbled notebooks and drafts in Word. Then the muse goes away and my brain starts working. There is no graph mania, but if you wish, you can burst out a congratulatory verse in honor of the birthday boy. Not bad either. Some people get a kick out of it. I like to hear in such a situation something in the vein of “I was given a poem for the first time in my life”. Or you bring up some philosophical idea that was born in the course of a dialogue, and you hear “you’re a very interesting person”. All that remains is to sing. And so the days go by. Sometimes what I wrote in another mental state looks like it wasn’t written by me. The text is very strange, but profound.
We think we can change many things. But we can do very little. Just imagine that the process of thinking and performing our tasks requires an incredible amount of work on our brain. It is a processor that works on all the organs in the human body. If you do not try to rest, you may go deaf, go blind, lose your sight. There is a phrase – see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. It’s the perfect wife. But if you look at it from the other side of the coin, it turns out that everything is exactly the opposite. A woman must hear, must see, and, must speak. The right thing to do is to look for a man who’s close in spirit. I mean the one, the only one. It gives an opportunity to live in harmony. It gives strength. It allows to earn. It gives joy. It gives hope. It enlightens the mind. It clears the mind and the subconscious. It gives pleasant dreams, it gives creative ideas. It’s never superfluous, but you have to understand that marriage is hard work. Raising children is an important and never-ending job. It is worth doing responsibly and without rest. But as the child grows, the worries only multiply. The crises that a child goes through take a heavy toll on his psyche. He/she needs care, love and affection. When all crises are over – adulthood begins. This is another blow to the psyche. Not everybody can enter it quickly and easily. But everyone tries to make it work. This is a good thing. But one shouldn’t forget about rest. It is important. Rest always brings new strength and new strength means new opportunities. Children are the flowers of life. Teenagers learn about the adult world. Adults start families, get educated, build careers. All of these things are necessary for personal growth.
I sometimes think about how to cope with my world outside and inside myself. It is a complicated and convoluted process. However, like any human being I am growing spiritually and morally, trying to make sense of the different issues that are troubling or worrying me. It’s complicated. When I think about the future – I become a dreamer and somewhat of a fool. I’ll say more – a complete idiot! But if there is no dream, there is no desire to live. It’s not always possible to live one day, but I try very hard to maintain a healthy and unpretentious optimism – honestly, it doesn’t come out in the morning. The afternoons are easier. The evenings are even too much. That’s the way my biochemistry works. That’s how my brain works. To put it simply, it’s all about illness. But I’m pro-educated about the word peculiarity. It’s certainly a euphemism. But it helps me feel stronger and cleaner. It makes you feel better about yourself and the prejudices of others. I’m more comfortable with that. Of course, it’s not a panacea – but it’s a very effective word. So, to sum up, I can say to those who are tormented by guilt, despondency, homesickness and generally heavy spirit … Be patient. Wait. Have faith in yourself. Use any crutches. In quotes, of course. Hang in there, in these difficult times, and love life. There won’t be a new one.
We were born to live life with dignity. We are created by the Almighty, which has a great responsibility under it. Be it Christ, Buddha, Prophet Mohammed. Monotheism, polytheism, Zoroastrianism… In short, it’s about the night. We are very weak. The body is weak, the soul is weak. But, only a trial can turn it all 180 degrees. When one thinks, creates, works, is lazy, reads, learns… He learns the laws of the universe – earthly and dogmatic. When a man finds himself, finds a profession and earns money – he can begin to build a life according to his mind. Family, children, relatives and friends. You can help everybody, they will also help you. If you look for something, nothing will work. You have to let go of the reins. And then, everything will work out and go on as if by magic. It is not an axiom; life presents surprises time after time. But it is worth trying. It is an absolute rule of life on earth and in the body. If you do not seek inspiration, the muse will not come. If you do not look for work, it will not come. But if you look for salvation within yourself, it will come. With all that entails. It is a simple rule. And it is worth remembering. Never struggle with what is beyond your control. Never try to take on a burden you can’t handle. And to finish… We are God’s people. We are his slaves. Don’t forget that you can’t gamble with Him. Never. That’s the end of it. Love, be loved, respect and be respected.
Однажды, думая о счастье,
Я понял, что я полный идиот.
Я думал, что лишь в нем спасенье.
Но оказалось, что оно не лучше,
Протяжной смертной скуки и тоски.
Ведь скука – это способ заново осмыслить,
И разложить по полочкам мечты.
Тоска же даст тот новый импульс,
Чтобы опять почувствовать прилив любви.
Я думаю, что стоит смело,
Искать простые выходы своей душе.
И на любой открытый приступ гнева,
Пойти дорогой пониманья,
С частицей дружбы и сердечности внутри.
Парафраз, парафраз, парафраз
Невозможно всегда убегать.
Невозможно бросать вновь и вновь.
Невозможно бездумно искать.
И терять на ногах,
Рвану пятку своих сапогов.
Можно быть бескорыстным и честным,
Можно быть бесконечно и пагубно пресным,
Можно быть очень смелым и неказистым,
Но найти, что тебе дарит смыслы.
Все на свете сказано трижды.
Парафраз, парафраз, парафраз…
Что же ты тогда делаешь с книжкой?
Что из слова ты можешь создать?
Все зависит от граней таланта.
Эрудиции – ёб ее мать…
От усидчивасти и порой фарта.
Но зачем себе мозги ебать?
Можно просто сидеть под оливой.
Тихо, мирно конца ожидать.
Хули нет, ведь так тоже красиво.
Умереть – нихуя не пытаясь понять.
Мозгоёбка – особая сила,
Ею можно себя отвлекать.
“Игры разума” – ох, как учтиво…
Для себя ее так называть.