English – DG89

Beach

admin — Sun, 07 Jul 2024 16:22:26 +0000

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Lights are flashing in a pool, the resort is showing off.

I’m forever just a tool for the ocean and it’s love.

I’m forever just a stranger on a passage on a beach,

Nevermind the wavy danger, I did not arrive to teach.

I have landed in Cancun to deep in in a lagoon.

Landed in Montego Bay, on the sand I got to lay.

And Aruba, Santa Lucia played the role of mental cushion.

Sunny fusion, total freedom, wrote the words and now read them.

Don’t forget to end and weep, stop your speeches, bite the lip.

Words are just unnecessary, they are making things so dreary.

Just the ocean and the beach, sun is shining and don’t preach.

Let it go and give in, and let go of the grin.

Punta Cana, La Romana, Haifa sun, and Tel Aviv,

Ate some mangoes and bananas, on a beach I saw a film.

Chased the seagulls, iguanas, and escaped a rattlesnake,

Rode the camels, petted llamas, craved the water, since I waked.

Santorini and Mykonos, all the way to South Beach,

Sunny Isles to Redondo, but I missed the Georgia peach.

Ocean washing off my feet, I don’t have a single care,

I sometimes forget to eat, on a beach I’m laying bare.

Need a moment not so long, let it happen all the time.

Life without beach is wrong, almost like committing crime.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

We are the same

admin — Mon, 24 Jun 2024 13:36:52 +0000

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We are the same. In day and night. In fortune, misery, alike.

Forever right and always wrong, it’s all the same, our living song.

We are the same. We try to change. We claim to open novel doors.

Consistency of our plight is overshadowed by our deeds.

How unpredictable and strange we start and finish our wars.

And outcome from our intent, emotions’ bouncy proceeds.

We twist and turn in our mind, we seek to fill more empty space,

We rest our heads on our goals, but truth be told, we’re in a daze.

There was a time when we explored. We now climb to our demise.

We’re never boring, never bored. If we despise, it’s only lies.

Our eyes are open. Hearts, like ice. Our actions smooth and calculated.

However weak, or maybe strong, we always sing our own song,

And walk along, but still alone, and our uniqueness overrated.

We hurt, we crave, we fear, and try, and our stories variate,

But our judgments, some exposed and others hidden, just a bait.

For our differences vain, and our opinions subjugated.

Our dreams and goals are rather small, but still, they make us feel elated.

We are the same. We bicker, still. We argue over petty things.

The biggest wars, the greatest tensions obscure resolve, destroy intentions,

And cause not victories, but grief. And yet somehow we believe that battle is the only way.

It’s not about what we say, it’s our conviction in ourselves preventing us from seeing clearly.

And disregarding every sense, we go back to feeling tense.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

I often wonder sitting still

admin — Mon, 29 Jan 2024 04:18:39 +0000

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I often wonder sitting still of what is my – no need to steal, of what is life beyond the reel,

When life, it happens on the real, of share of Pavlov in my will, it’s hard to live and hard to kill,

Of what life brought and forced to leave, and gifting guilt, and loss, and grief,

And elevation of belief, when you abandoned lonely cliff, and fly beneath, however brief,

Misunderstanding your motif, you might as well just go and leave,

Transverse from random, bright, and brief, to be the champion, the gift,

To steal a purpose, like a thief, to be the change, the mental shift,

To give a hand and to uplift, be in the know, catch the drift,

Be on the go, travel bug, but where you go is the rub.

I’d rather drop the illest rhyme, than be a power pantomime,

Marionette lives on a dime, but in the head it’s not the same.

I go through days, however lame, without drama, pain, and shame,

So, why or why it’s so insane, as if I’m living through migraine of everyone around me.

And I put up a fair screen, but seldom going for the win.

Win comes around, it belongs, my essence begs and pants and groans

My days are painted in red, and blue, and purple, and vignette,

And true and simple is the end, but till you die, just pay the rent

On days in which you operate, when you’ve been chosen, paid, and laid,

With whom you laid, or how great life felt that moment, and you said:

The moment, please, don’t ever end, don’t ever cease, you’re such a tease,

I love myself in every piece of every action and intent.

I love to vent, and cause consent, I take what’s given, nothing more.

Forevermore, it ain’t no more, I shudder to my very core,

I hate the war, adore the lore, and always, always ask for more.

The mind I tore from door to door, and when a loser, never sore.

I sleep and rest, but not enough, I live so well and yet, so rough.

I wrap my tude with nervous laugh, and wrap my rhyme, like it’s enough.

But words are pouring, can’t be stopped, but thoughts are racing, and erupt.

The thought of losing never popped, the hope for better never stopped,

So here I sit, my dreams are chopped, but vibrant in rainbow light.

I know I’m right, and I just might, be right enough to always laugh,

To always shine, while drinking wine, and cheese and grapes, and crepes and dates,

I’m losing count of the days, and of my thought, so I just thought that I already said a lot. Arrivederci on the dot.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

What’s the point of a point?

admin — Sat, 16 Dec 2023 00:32:24 +0000

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What’s the point of a point? Any point, any joint, all deliberate
intent, never broken, always bent.

What is up with up and down, fix the frown, be a clown, life
has rainbows and light, have a taste, it is your right.

Have a look, go look and see, go ahead and cross the sea, go
get it, don’t pass up, from now on it’s always up.

It’s a reading, not a rap, speak the truth, don’t set a trap,
my mischievous intonations brought excitement and sensations.

Here I am. My name is I. I would never even lie. Why would I,
and why would you get the lesser, be denied?

Why the strangest expectations, causing extra indignation, ‘catch-your
breath’ exasperation, transformations to the new? One you always kinda knew. Hence
you never start anew.

It’s ok, you’ll get it right. Almost certain that you might.
I don’t really wanna fight, so my lip I better bite.

Wish you luck in your attempts to redo what mind prevents. Even
tends to misdirect, challenging your intellect.

Messing with your night and day, even getting in the way of
the way you always are, maybe shy, but still a star.

Sticking like the summer tar, claiming peace is so bizarre, replicating
Myanmar, your ambition’s Renoir.

Your preset determination, makes for blanket indentation, back
to bare exasperation, to the empty augmentation,

Stage the semi-cancellation of whatever’s on your mind,
cause it messes with your might, so it feels like something died.

So, it hounds steadi-ly , and it never really leaves, keeps
on coming, no relief, so you tend to just relive everything that you have
lived.

All at once. And it appears that your stature disappears, fighting
tears, consequences.

Putting up some brand-new fences. Craving glances – they don’t
look. Flipping pages of a book.

Maybe so, that it took, more of you then you could give, so it’s
harder to forgive. Might as well just breathe and live,

No incentive to deceive, disengage, or misconceive, get
caught up in some pet peeve, always edgy, no relief.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

I walked the streets with pompous feel

admin — Sat, 12 Aug 2023 20:36:04 +0000

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I walked the streets with pompous feel and I was happy on the reel.

And reel was I, and that’s no lie, and it’s my only alibi,

As we are never satisfied, I aim to please, that’s how I learn. That’s how every story’s born,

That’s how dream becomes your path, it’s extra crispy for empaths, the driven wrath of being right.

Denied the option, that it does to make a point on the pass.

And there are always other ways. Sometimes you see that crime, it pays.

Sometimes you bask in mid-day rays.

Sometimes you’re losing track of days, or maybe it’s a paraphrase.

Or maybe it’s a state of mind, or everything is just sideways.

Time doesn’t heal. Amnesia does. And do you keep all that you kill?

Despite your judgement, brains, and will, you’re lost among the good and ill.

Attempt to chill, but setting bombs, remember when you were on reel and everything was per your will?

Nobody asking ‘what’s the deal? ‘ Just being you, king of the hill. Chameleon on summer break.

Just keep it up, and never break. You only reap all that you made. And that you make, just as of late, you tend to follow a new rate, as if it’s chosen as your fate.

You are the life you want to lead. With every breath and every bid, with every deed and every creed, with every torn tumbleweed,

With every smile, as agreed, abstaining from the ones in need, but choosing who’s enslaved or freed, and when it’s time to drink some mead.

And when the go light is lit.

And you are caught in your own shit.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

The anger, it grows

admin — Tue, 08 Aug 2023 17:55:11 +0000

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The anger, it grows, and doesn’t subside.

The glimpse of betrayal, it serves as a guide.

I’m saying ‘don’t hurt me ‘, exposing the pain,

She’ll only press harder, as if it’s a gain

To always diminish, to always negate,

And why would I wait? I’m getting irate.

And this is my fate, I’m always too late,

‘Clean up on my isle! I’m damsel, you’re bait!’

And see myself rushing to every extreme.

Whatever I’ve dreamt, is more than a dream,

Whatever I’ve witnessed, is mine to behold,

I miss loving guidance of just being told.

Whatever I’ve screwed, I forever correct,

Through my dialect, I’ll commit and erect

A characteristic to cover the bet,

While casting another compounded net,

My face may be wet, but I’m not gonna let my life to become full of spite and regret.

I’ll even play dead, before I forget why I was so edgy, and rather upset.

Perhaps alphabet doesn’t offer the letters

To try and explain what I’m trying to say,

Perhaps I’m inventing a method of closeness that goes beyond just ‘around the way’.

Perhaps I am normal, or maybe insane,

I scramble my brain, don’t keep in the lane,

And see every moment through wondrous rain.

I hate all the pain, but keep my mind trained,

I’m ready for war full of scorn and disdain.

I run from the plain, I grow and abstain,

Or maybe punk out and turn to mundane.

I’m moving, I’m breathing, I’m fucking alive,

Another heartbreaker, but no 9 to 5,

Another diminished and squandered sandcastle,

Another mnemonic to be who I am,

I’m only a person, a human, a vessel,

But only I know, it’s true what I dreamt.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

Been a while

admin — Tue, 11 Jul 2023 13:16:01 +0000

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Been a while, cranked the dial, life is vile, but no more.

I will travel, destinations, beach and sun, and random nations,

That’s the plan for my elation, leaving room for some temptations, no such thing as empty miles, I am ready to explore.

All the stress I always wore, every argument – a war, walking through the doors of freedom, I was writing my own lore.

Reminiscent of baroque, I don’t fly, I only soar.

Always dreaming in my core, losing masks I always wore,

But at least I’m never bored, the Excalibur – my sword.

But at least I’m always me, always practice what I bring,

Stepping slowly on the carpet leading up to mighty ring.

Like a bee, I fly and sting, only float and never sink, don’t be shocked if I go crazy and will dye my hair pink.

Very little that I need, sand and water and some weed,

And perhaps I’ll dial down and forget to even breed.

I will lie forever still, I’ll forget my might and will, I’ll go round and about and discover what’s the deal.

I will deal myself full house, or perhaps a royal flush, I will always act aroused, but I’m never in a rush.

I will welcome old and known, cause I’m tired of the new, I’ll be brave and bold and random, like the pictures that I drew.

This is it, my wild brew, this is not my fun in lieu of me being disconnected, or perhaps I simply grew.

I am free, but I am not. I’m detached and I’m tied down. I’ll examine every moment, but I’m now ocean bound.

Let tranquility replace every whip and every lace.

I am dumbing it all down, it’s no longer just a race.

Let the ocean wash my soul, let the sun break down walls to the magic of detachment, where my mind, it simply stalls.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

What I want

admin — Thu, 22 Jun 2023 03:20:46 +0000

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I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what is wrong.

Maybe life is as it is, maybe I should sing a song.

Crawling through the paths of others, often find being lost,

I have plenty ‘I would rather ‘, but I’d sooner skip the cost.

Mimicking the jaded feelings, to be honest, I don’t care.

All that matters is my mission, hence I’m living on a tear.

Apathy is not an option, I have plenty left to teach,

Reach throughout every challenge, till I’m found in a ditch.

Maybe answers wait for me, maybe this is the right answer,

Maybe I forgot to be who I am – a playful prancer.

Or perhaps the world is right, to disturb is not my moxie.

Toxic, rather orthodoxy, epilepsy isn’t sexy,

Even if it’s purely mental, lost in thought or even gentle,

Pure and never judgmental, because this is how it is.

Time to roll it back to peace.

That’s the bliss that I desire.

Fire, brimstone, words of liars only bother me of late.

Or perhaps, this is my fate.

Dmitriy

Author

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Do I explain or let it go?

admin — Thu, 08 Jun 2023 22:30:37 +0000

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Do I explain or let it go? The summer rain speaks for itself.

So, do I dare be like water, its drops free falling through a day.

There’s no escape, forget umbrellas, it causes happiness and dance.

Don’t hide your face, uncover tears, they wash away and warm your face.

And it’s temporal and unreal, and it’s amazing and corrupt.

Dilutes ambitions and intentions, but you no doubt can adapt.

But you no doubt know better about what you think you need.

Consider this a fucking letter about ego, fear, greed.

Consider this a welcome message to just relax and let life rain,

We’re all imperfect, poor and foul, perhaps conceited, even vain.

Consider this a mirror image, of everything we’ll never see,

Perhaps I’ll travel, like a pilgrim, and then return and never leave.

They say ‘relax’, like it’s an option, like dripping wax I wanna be,

There is no reason for redaction, when I demand, I’m adding ‘please’.

When I can feel, against my will, it’s not a drill, don’t let it go.

When I shut down, pull away, I need a bit, it’s not a show.

Sometimes it simply pulls away, you never go all the way,

You never give it all you got, instead just living through your day.

The sky is burning, so are you, the sun is shining, that is true,

Don’t reminisce on what is gone, it’s a disease, just like the flu.

The day, it flew, the moment gone, I’ll make another, having fun.

I’ll step toward, and never back, just don’t forget to watch your back.

Dmitriy

Author

https://dg89.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/large.jpg

Everybody’s feeling ill

admin — Sat, 29 Apr 2023 22:12:35 +0000

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Everybody’s feeling ill, some for real, some are faking.

Illness never travels still, it infects, destroys.

Breathtaking are the limits of our might. What we want we shall abolish.

Happiness is just a sham. We can never be invalid.

We’ll forever terminate all attempts at repetition,

Even when recapping dreams through our own self-sedition.

Seeking soothing and mundane in a world of innovation should recharge.

Yet love be damned, what we get is abrogation.

What we offer is ourselves – that is all we have to tender,

Understanding melts away till we hit a fender bender.

We would rather spend our strength fighting demons we created

Than accepting help or peace. Our egos consecrated.

Fated dated and awaited our attempts at being mated.

Not elated, just ill-fated, our serrated armor-plated undertakings are castrated.

We don’t let us fly. We float. Interactions are cutthroat.

I will say it over and over, like some funny anecdote.

Every fabric’s doomed to rip, even if it’s cloth of honor.

We don’t seek companionship, sinking our own ship,

Biting lip and taking trip to our loneliness, the stunner.

Blame the other, till you stand all alone among the ruins.

Yes, you’d rather meet another, smother everything you gather,

And move on to feeling bothered once again, as a surprise.

Maybe better to be wise.

Dmitriy

Author

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