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Alexander R. Povolotsky, aka PrinceAlexander


Alexander R. Povolotsky,
aka PrinceAlexander

“Drive in” love We all like love to be two way streetWhere feelings ride back and forth with full speedWe are trying to avoid paying tollsThat is how we like love to be, boys and dolls
But some streets get marked as one wayFrom which tough to back off – there is price to payMost of them, one way streets, are DEAD ENDsOther name for those is “Let’s be friends”
When you have a full tank of gas – then you still could rideBut if the love “runs on empty” – brake and pull to the side !Just get out from it, calmly take the walkThere’s no need anymore to drive and to “talk the talk”
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“Мне б коней в упряжку тройку” – Poetry in Russian Мне б коней в упряжку резвых, что из племени ПегасаЧтоб вспарить бы над собою и достичь вершин ПарнасаЯ б оставил Росинанта под присмотром Санча ПансаЯ б забыл бы Дульцинею, не допев куплет романса
Вознесут меня над прозой скудной окрылённые те кониИ греховную я Землю положу в свои ладониВсю планету я заставлю петь и плакать, матерится и молитсяЗаиграв на лире так, чтоб Апполон мог мной гордится
В дар божественный провидец как Кассандре дал ПоэтуУгадать судьбу лихую и озвучить карму этуНо поэзия бессильна, не умчат поэта кониНе спасут от рока жизни, не избавят от погони
Грудь певца от пули смертной крылья песни не заслонятСкакуны, бег не нарушив, труп наездника уронятНе заметив понесутся, не замедлят в буйном скачеТолько Муза, Дульцинея, зарыдает в скорбном плаче
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“Ошибся я, ошиблась ты “ Ошибся я, ошиблась тыНе я был принц твоей мечтыСвой свет души, блеск красотыНапрасно отдала мне тыМне грустно видеть, милый другТвоей души Сизифов трудНе починить того что нетНе жди любви моей в ответПойми меня, прочти меняПрости и отпусти меняПускай, мой друг, теперь с тобойВновь будет он – не я, другойТак будет лучше для тебяМеня ж забудь его любяЯ знаю – он твой идеалТебе б он был чем я не сталИ водрузив на пьедесталТебе б он дал что я не дал !
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An alien visitor from the planet Earth I am the visitor from EarthNot sure what’s my visit worthI see familiar landscapeLike of the planet I escaped
Both planets look like very sameI see the sufferings and painI see bloodshed, bullshit and hateI see no hope here for to wait
My travel was a waste of timeI’ve seen enough of sex and crimeOn planet Earth’s TV networkThis visit really did not work
It’s good my visit was dream’s fakeI’d better rather get awakeAnd face the planet, called the EarthHere comes the end of my sad verse
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As lion March in Boston starts As lion March in Boston starts and as a lamb it endsThat means that Winter and the Spring through fight are changing handsThough winds subside by April first but sometimes as a jokeOn that same day snowstorm from sky falls down as a hawk
Onto Beantown as a prey it sets its snowed gripBy dressing streets in winter clothes once more in fierce zipAnd tree’s awaken swollen buds are tortured by the coldAs anguished be one’s dreams of Love, being kept in heart on hold
And how ironic – in two week comes up the taxing date,Unnatural disaster’s dread, by human brain being madeSo here you go, wait my Love for fourteen days to churnReturning back to You is blocked by need to file return
The Duty comes in front of LoveSoul’s spring to slap by senseless gloveTax form’s pile up in gloomy stackWhile feelings, hopes and dreams got stuck
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Besame Mucho – Juanita, the Mexican girl I’m in love with JuanitaFrom El Paso country songKiss me stronger, senoritaMake my memories be gone
To forget the northern beautyWho’s cold heart is made of stoneKiss me stronger, Spanish cutieGive me love I missed so long
Brown eyes so warm and tenderMargaritaville from blenderMakes it easy to surrenderBorrowing love from lovely lender
Do not check my credit ratingI am all anticipatingGive me love that I am awaitingMake my loneliness abating
Rambling rose from Spanish gardenDo not let my heart to hardenHarden only what can pleaseI am down on my knees
I’m in love with JuanitaFrom El Paso country songKiss me stronger, senoritaMake my memories be gone…..Should I break with Juanita ?Better fits my age Lolita 😉 ?Better she my pocket fitsNo dollars, just few sweets
And as far as sex life goesLess demands on man she throwsHer so simple childish needsEven sugar daddy meets
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Between the two I don’t want to read your book, I don’t want to know you betterBetween the friendship and the love, too much of knowledge kills the latter.Between the angel part of you and lusting bitch if that might matterBetween the two, between the two, between the two – I’ll take the latter.
I’ll kiss the tipper* of your toeI promise not to ask for moreI’ll fondle nipples of your breastI will not dare touching rest
I am the stranger in your landsMy journey at the borders endsMy ship I anchor at your portsI’ll stay in bounds of my words.
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Come taste the wine I think that Cabaret’s, well …, not so “Blushing Flower” ElsieBe stunned to learn about marriage, set for Clinton’s daughter, ChelseaWhile Elsie made her living renting “by the hour”The quarter million dollars Clintons spent just for arranging Chelsea’s marriage flowers
While richest crowd gathered in upstate NY well guarded mansionI am guessing that the invitations card did mention:”Come taste the wine, come hear the band, come blow your horn, start celebrating;Go right this way, your table’s waiting”
At that same very day (as any other)The homeless folks, being awfully hungry ratherWithout shedding any joy or tears,Regarding Chelsea’s marriage, were in the “Food Kitchen” fed by volunteers
And though that setting was not as glamorous as one in Astor’s mansionI’d wish that serving volunteer mention:”Come taste the wine, come hear the band, come blow your horn, start celebrating;Go right this way, your table’s waiting”
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Date with the Death I had experience, I confessOf having meeting with the DeathWe played the party of the chessMy life at stake with, no less
For every clever move I madeResponse was stronger from my dateAnd move by move and step by stepHe pushed me closer to grave’s gap
It did not take too long to waitThat I was given check and mateIt was so clear that my fateIs to descend down world of late
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Do you love or just want to be loved ? Do you love or just want to be loved ?Is for you “to be loved” good enough ?Should you settle your life just with that,How it feels during times, spent in bed ?If lovemaking just comes as techniqueNot requiring for both hearts to clickIf the *skills* are well tuned and adjusted, being triedThen before you are ready to fall into sleep, *satisfied* …Do you dare to say: “I do too !” to the guy ?Does he really know it is just a lie ???Was he able sometimes to cut throughAnd reply with the pain: “It’s not true!”
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Drama boy When he called her last night and has heard her strange voice, tone of which was so nervous and tenseHe has felt right away by the depths of his guts grim onset ofimpending suspenseShe just said: “I am going to send you email” in the end of that short conversationAnd he ran to computer to wait for bad news and kept waiting while loosing his patienceIn an hour it came with the innocent start – just describing how busy her day wasThus reducing forthcoming unpleasant impact by slow down and taking some pauseHe scrolled down through it in the quick half a glance jumping right to the core of the matterTo face up with the truth of what’s going to be – like it is – noworse and no betterShe committed tomorrow to spend with “old flame”, “you know who”, that “significant other”So she hardly will have any time set for else on that day – so brace up and be cool with it rather
Drama boy, drama boy – what you’re going to do ?- you’re so old and that makes it quite funny …Will you live through that cold, lost by you Sunday day, will the next day be brighter and sunny ?
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Farewell oh my father I will never forget that December gloom dayWhen my father in Hospice was going awayI stood still at his bed having just come from workHe was calm paralyzed and not able to talk
Then he gathered his strength and we caught eye to eyeAnd he showed me up with his gaze to the skyIn his look was no sorrow, no worry, no fear, no “why”That was just his sweet way to express last Good-Bye
Farewell oh my father, you’ve lived honest lifeYou are leaving behind grown son and your wifeAll your troubles are over, you came to the endI am praying that you to the sky will be sent
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From the distance I don’t want to pretendTo be your friendNor your DaddyBut sometimes I see the girl in youWith bear-teddyThen I wish to give you kiss, wipe your tearAnd not scared to act funny in once’s viewOh my girlWith a curlOh my Dear!To embrace and give two sweetsAs a treatsComing nearYes, two sweets – one just for youAnd one for teddy-bearKiss once more and stroke your hair with no resistanceAnd then gently step awayAnd watch you playFrom the distance
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Ghost in the woods We are naked and alone when we’re not willfully bornAnd we are also alone when we dieAnd the same in between, every year on and onNo matter do laugh we or cry
How can I expect that I’ll be understoodBy your mind or by instinct of yoursWhen myself I feel lost in emotional woodWhere I am walking alone like a ghost
Where my jealousy fights with my faith and my trustWhere one part of me hopes that you love me in me, but another so painfully screamsThat I’m just a placeholder in the world of your dreamsUnfulfilled by someone in your past !
When our bodies together are blending in oneAre you thinking of him, while keep holding me tightGiving kindly to me what is his by his rightWho escaped from your hands on the run ?
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Girls and their fantasy lovers Those girls are the type, who lives in the dreamWith the fantasy lover – made for worshiping himHe is their Prince Charming and he is their White KnightThe one who comes only to visit by night
He loves them so gently and never offendsHe is ever so sweet so romance never endsReal guys on the street can’t compare to PrinceBeing rude from the go and then ever since
Unlike fake Prince Charming guys dump girls at onceThe Knight never does it and keeps the romance Oh those silly girls, whom reality can not convinceThat they just renamed Teddy Bear to Prince
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Gypsy motives – in Russian У цыгана есть любовь и его гитараЕсли в нём взыграет кровь – черт ему не параПолюбил девчонку он, гладил её косыПолюбивши загубил, загубивши бросилА как бросил пьёт в тоске и забыть не можетБоль стучит в его виске, горе сердце гложетИ гитара на груди струны рвёт рыдаяАх ты боль моя уйди, не губи роднаяУтопил цыган любовь в омуте угараНе играет больше кровь но поёт гитара—————————————————-
Как то раз цыган младой пел на чей то свадьбеВдруг зазнобу он признал на невесту глядяИ гитаре он тотчас оборвал все струныИ швырнул гитару ту у ног невесты юнойИ фату с неё сорвав, ревностью палимыйОн мгновенно нож достал в поясе таимый
Только вот пронёсся нож над девчонкой мимоПарень горло полоснул пред своей любимойУмирая он лежит, нож в руке сжимаяА в другой руке фата кровью намокает
Тут невеста вся дрожа белей фаты вдруг сталаИ на острие ножа замертво упалаУж не петь гитаре вновь – умерла гитараА в траве в крови лежит трупов хладных пара
Та трава была для них смертным изголовьемТам смешалась кровь её с его буйной кровьюИ девчоночка лежит друга обнимаяНе расстаться им вовек – знать судьба такая !
О седой цыганский бог – прости души грешныхДопусти к себе в чертог и навек утешь их
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I think of you ! When I am waking up, my Love – I do think of you !Looking down or above – I do think of you !Just before I fell asleep – I still think of you !When I’m sad and want to weep – Oh … I think of you !When I see girls on the street – I think just of you !Not to let my life to quit – I need to think of you !When I want to feel the joy – then I think of you !I start acting as young boy – when I think of you !Any words to show fail – what I think of you !Only having you could tell – how I feel for you !
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I thought that snow melted away for good I thought that snow melted away for good, but here it comes again
Well … the winding road to Spring is quite long, it doesn’t have the fast lane
In other places Spring already has come, while where I am – not just yet
But I’ll keep the faith in season’s change – instead of being so upset
Within the reason of being just a little bit sane
There is no use to cry madly in vain
There is no use again to cry in vain and to pay an emotional toll
For the fact of the nature that the window’s view isn’t in sync with my soul
But wait a second, am I too involved into my own personal stuff?
Why readers be burdened with my feelings and pain , when they have of their own enough?
If I could teach them something what to do when life is becoming tough …
But I don’t know how to live myself – I admit being in anger and huff
So I’ll try separating my life apart from the poetry for now on
It’s no use, for the public review on line, my soul inside out to turn
Exhibition in rhymes is a shame on its own, much like as being caught undressed
The poet and stripper are two different jobs, which should not together be messed
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I will stay the course I am in love with you for better or for worseI am in love with you with no sad remorseYou may reject my love or you may endorseIt doesn’t matter, I will stay the course
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I wish that night to never be I wish that night to never beI thought you’re working as a beeI caught you with him in the barI had no clue it went that farThis finding caught me in surpriseCan’t hide the tears in my eyes
You were so busy being with himEngaged in love and act on whimI felt embarrassed to be therePretending that I do not careI wish I’d never gone that farAnd show myself in that damn bar
You were so much in your love gameWith no limit, no shameYou threw yourself to him so clearI felt so bad while standing nearYou threw yourself with no fearTo show the world how you endear
When being with me you were intentTo keep our love “under the tent”With reputation free of taintYou were so private and restraintNow I could see you so much changedIt makes me feel to be avenged
Being found, caught you in surpriseI noticed bother in your eyesI was the hindrance on your wayTo let you deal with in a frayThat came unwanted, undesiredDistracting you from being love fired
What I could tell you on my part – I still love you with all my heartI can’t change you – it is too late – I’m left to hate my cruel fateWell, if your love to me has passed – I do not want the break up lastSo if you’ll leave me – don’t wait, let’s part and split without hateJust say goodbye, let’s make it quick – let me not show that I am weakI wish your new love all of luck, just let me fade into the dark
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In lack of fantasies and fighting sheer madness In lack of fantasies and fighting sheer madnessWe, poets, like to write about love and sadnessWith our eyes, so wettable with tears,And our hearts, so tunable to fears,We grab our pens and shut our earsWe cry of pure love (with no Pap smears)To our girlfriends, which were caught while cheating,(Oh those betraying snakes with lying words, which are so witting …)And our feelings – they are hurt and bleed with sorrowWe write that life has ended,and will be no tomorrowWe write that faith in love is lost, and trust nowhere to be borrowedWe write and lines of mellow poetry gets crunched and crunched and crunched …But then we go hungry, suddenly the flood of sadness stops, and, cheerfully, we do break for lunch.
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In the doll house In your mature moods you’re either angel or a b—-But there is also third one, child like, whichI am amazed to watch, when you allow it to showWhen you just want to play with me like with a toyAnd then I strive to be on par with you, behaving like a boyWho finds himself in doll house locked with nowhere to go
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Inspirational chant Go forward, don’t live by the pastBe steadfast !Go forward, life embrace with no fearPersevere !Have a purpose. accept no defeatTrue grit !Don’t give up and continue vyingKeep trying !======================================
Joke is better Keeps complaining poetessThat under stress and duressThere is no life and no peaceThat’s no good, my dear Miss, but where is our post police ?
Others got creative flowGoing fast or going slowSo we have poetic floodBurying us in verbal mud
Lots of words of crying hellFrom ones so hurt, they can’t get wellLoosing life’s endurance,With no health insurance
Being heart broken and love sickEmpathy those writers seekThere is no place for jokingTears got me choking
I myself can not complainExcept for age and mental painIn the ass, which was once headWhere used to brain I had
Some like white bread, others ryeJoke is better than the cryLet’s postpone the cryingTill the time of dying======================================
Like rivers flow into ocean Like rivers flow into oceanUnstoppable time’s steady motionAnd only Love without cautionSurvives the time through its Devotion
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To camps my father sentenced wasWhen I was only four; and I was told that on that dateHe asked my mother: “Will you wait ?”And she replied: “Of course”
I do remember how trucksWith prisoners aboard did drive from prison to GulagI stood with mother watching it but could not comprehendWhy father taken was from me and why he waves his hand
I hardly noticed him at all among the other menMy mother pointed him to me and went to cry againArmed guards were watching this send off and kept the crowd at bayThat early morning in the square on grim and rainy day
And years slowly passed along in loneliness and doomThere were my mother and small me, confined in single roomFrom day to day just two of us, just two and no one else …All relatives and former friends *forgot* our address
When they would spot Mom on the street – they’d cross to other sideFrom wife of *enemy of state* they were quite quick to hideIn kinder garden and at school knew too who’s son I amAnd I could read it in their eyes – they hate me and condemn
My mother, trying find a job, in vain knocked closed doorsHer applications were denied after background checkBeing engineer by degree she ended mopping floorsThe pay just covered buying food when she was coming back
“Mom, could I have a bike ?” – I asked when I was eightShe said: “Perhaps the other year, we need to learn to wait”And we kept waiting, she – for Dad, and I to get my bikeWhen I was nine Dad didn’t come but I got what I like
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Melting snow Melts away last year’s snow,Which came down on New Year’s eveBut you love me strongly, I knowAnd I’ll love you as long as I live
Milky fog around me soarsMakes me feel like Fairy TaleAnd your eyes, which my heart adoresI could see through the white wintry veil
Though the spring is so far away yetYes, the April is far away soBut unlike this fast melting snowShall our love away never melt
Fades away last year’s snow, which came down on New Year’s eveYou are the One and OnlyAnd I love you stronglyAnd I will love you as long as I live
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My English translation of A. S. Pushkin’s “The Night”, which he wrote in 1823 My English translation of A. S. Pushkin’s “The Night”, which he wrote in 1823
Late silence of dark night disturbing, in my sweet surrender,My voice, to you directed, languid is, while being both soft and tender.My words of poetry, to you they flow babbling, into love song they meld in my poetic candorBeing full of you, as passion streams flow my words – to you from me, by you enchanted sender …In darkness of the room I see your shining eyes, they smile to me, revealing their splendorSad candle burns near my bed – its sparks sometimes your lovely image render …And suddenly the sounds of your voice I hear in love’s magic curse :”My friend, my sweet friend … love you, … I’m yours, I’m yours !”=====================================”НОЧЬ”, 1823
Мой голос для тебя и ласковый и томный
Тревожит позднeе молчанье ночи темной.
Близ ложа моего печальная свеча
Горит; мои стихи, сливаясь и журча,
Текут, ручьи любви; текут полны тобою.
Во тьме твои глаза блистают предо мною,
Мне улыбаются — и звуки слышу я:
Мой друг, мой нежный друг… люблю… твоя…твоя!..
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My epitaph In lack of glory and the fameHe tamed himself be humble and lameHe tried to be a man of wordTo live by peace and not by sword
He tried to stay away from crimeExcept for playing with the rhymeHe tried be honest, live in truthBoth being himself, being part of Jews
He was not perfect, was not saintHe didn’t deserve bright colors paintThough he has tried to do what’s rightAnd separate the black from white
Don’t judge him harshly if you canPlease be forgiving to this manIf in his life he caused you harmForgive his soul and shake his arm
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My grandson’s country I grew in country, which was full of hateTo Jews, who never will be there treated equalI am so happy that my grandson’s fateAllowed him in better country to be born and live – in happy family’slife saga sequel
I grew in country, where I’ve heard so many times:”Go away you, Jew, -you are not welcomed here,This land is Not your land” – and that was tough for me (and all thoseJewish boys and girls like me) to bearMy grandson, I believe, will never hear anything like this, whilewiping salty tearsIn my New Country my grandson is proud to be Jew and he could live hislife in happiness pursuit without any fears
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My Jewish People – I am your proud son ! My Jewish People, Israel – I am your proud son !I’m made of tortured flesh of yours and of your ancient bloodSince Torah given was to us under the Sinai’s sunYour enemies tried burying us into historic mud
Egyptian pharaohs kept my kin in slavery by chainsThe straws turn slow into bricks by Jewish sweat and painJust longer look at giant plates of mighty pyramidsYou’ll see that Jewish blood and tears through their seams they bleed
My people’s cry and songs of pray – they to the Lord have goneBeing far away from our Land – in bonds of BabylonAnd kindly G_d has heard our plea and granted our returnTo our country, our temples, to our ways we yearn
But spared by Alexander the Great not long we lived aloneOur love for Freedom, our brave revolts caused angry hate of RomeEnraged by courage of the Jews they sent their legionsThey plowed our sacred Temple, the streets, where we were born
The Romans scattered Jews across their vast empire landIn hope that in by doing so the tale of Jews will endFor thousands years after that the Jews didn’t have their homesUkraine’s Cossacks killed my kin in savageous Pogroms
In Spain our haters burned the Jews in Inquisition flamesThe Germans tried to wipe us all, as an entire race,By gassing millions of the Jews in extermination campsWhere for five years they brought us, packed in the cattle trains
Gas chambers witnessed Jewish deaths in scare and despairThe Nazis made the pretty bags from skin, and wigs from Jewish hairFive years chimneys fumed with Jewish ash into the shameless airAnd World in silence watched all that with no help to dare
Yet we survived it all in all, the people of the G_dOh Israel – you’re back with us, protected by the LordAnd sacred Wailing Wall in freed JerusalemWill always be with us, forever and for good, Shma Israel! Amen !
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My windows face the busy street My windows face the busy streetBoth day and night the traffic beatInvades my quiet solitudeAnd violates my restful mood
Fire trucks, an ambulance, policeDisturb my inner conscience peaceTheir sounds tell me of distressDisaster, death, unhappiness
I sense like that the world entireIs crying pain, being set on fireAnd I feel urgent to respondDiscovering my human bond
But there are times, which aren’t my bestInside of me wakes up unrestI feel abandoned, I feel weakI don’t sense my heart beat tick
And in those times I have the needTo hear sounds of the streetThis buzz connects me to the worldTo which I cling as last resort
It’s nice, being either young or old,To know that’s no matter whatNo matter what will future holdLife keeps on moving by my road
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New shocking findings on the Beauty and the Beast 😉 World-known psychotherapistEstablished lately that the BeastIn fact was serial rapistAnd AlQaeda terroristMost sadly Snow-White at leastWas marked as target on his listBut wait …. the pervert got the nervesTop listing all small seven dwarfsDid not forget the beasty *fella*To list hard working CinderellaAnd (hope you don’t get me backwards )Hotlisted there find we certain Mr. EdwardsThe line marked *royal* worries bringIt has to do with L (dot ?) King”But which of three ?” – one comes to think …No one yet knows, that’s the thing …The scarlet flower, grown by thugWas very potent super drugHerself, the Beauty, being so cuteIn truth was call-girl prostituteHer cell phone number (fun to text)Is easy dialing “grl-4sex”The rumor has that Tiger WoodsWas spotted with her in the woodsAnother source claims Jessie JamesWas active partner in her games
Oh, those Mormons … 🙂 The roses have thornsThe dears have hornsWorn feet might have cornsGuess what have Mormons …
Shark’s teeth sharper are than steel knifesBeware of those, one who divesYes, swimming with sharks caused many lost livesIncluding Mormons and their …
My riddle to guessIsn’t hard I confessExcept for moronsTo figure what have those Mormons
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Old Mother’s soul The end of her days gets burned out aloneIn care of the staff in remote nursing homeShe hardly remembers her name and her ageThe book of her life turned itself to last page
Her mind is confused and her talk lacks the senseShe feels that she lives at somebody’s expenseNo interest in living, no hope, no dreamShe is locked in herself in the mental extreme
Since her husband has died twenty years have goneSince then she has lived by herself, on her ownHer only offspring is her sixty years sonTo whom she gave life and so much she has done
He visits her weekly, she cries when he leavesHe is so ashamed when he flees like a thiefShe wants him be near till she is aliveHe lives at the distance of thirty miles drive
She wants be in comfort of family warmthHe can not oblige with his heart has been tornShe calls him each evening: “Please take me from here !”He tells in return: “I can not, oh My Dear”
But once in a while she has painful nightmareThat her five years old son still lives in her careShe calls on the phone in torment and despairWith whom is my Sasha ? Where is he, where ?
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On day when Poetry will die On day when Poetry will die, the day which might be nearFor names, being scratched from history’s annals:Homer, Horace, Pindar, Anacreon, Ovid, Virgil, Catullus, Dante, JuvenalNo one will shed a tear
On day when Poetry will die, will world no more reverePetrarch, Marlowe, Byron, Shelley, and even great Shakespeare, Who’s names for some so dearYes, day might come when Poetry will die, strange as it may appear
Will come the day when Poetry will die – my friends let’s be sincerePoems of Heine, Pushkin, Chenier, Mitskewicz, Beranger – no one will ever hearOn day when Poetry will die – from memories will be goneKeats, Yeats, Blake, Kipling, Tennyson, Longfellow, Frost, Whitman, DickinsonOn day when Poetry will die, no more will people cheerNew poets daring to aspire, succeed and be rememberedIt seems that joy of life that day be brutally severedI don’t want to be around on day when Poetry will die, when art will be dismembered
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On Love and Poetry The love in poetry or poetry in loveWhich one is my forte I don’t really knowOr both or none of the aboveOr something in between and there in between I go
On certain mornings I awake being sickWith certain sweet disease that has no other cureThan trying to come up with words, which in my heart would stickSuch words, which are in sync with feelings I endure
And when I find those words, my rage goes awayTransferring into poetry so utterly contagiousInfecting those who read – and that what makes my dayRewarding for my efforts, humble in effect, but yet for me enormously courageous
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On rhyme and rhythm When one doesn’t keep the rhymeIn the poetryIt is not that much of crimeIt’s just the style, called “free”But when the rhyme the rhythm remindsOf lovemakingIt does sure keep the readers mindsIn the baking …
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Please now look at me My destiny was drafted in the skiesMy fate was in the depth of hell rewritten for demisePlease now look at me and don’t close your eyesAnd love me as I am or leave me in despise
King Midas had the *gift* of turning into goldJust everything whatever with his hands he touchesOh, if I ever able be to turn My love into the word,So precious as You are and meaningful still being as much is
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Poetical improvisation on Pushkin’s ‘Egyptian Nights’ (in Russian) Но тут насмешник, шут дворцовый пред Клеопатрою встаетИ усмехаясь многозначно он дерзко речь свою ведет:”Ужель прекрасная царицаТы ставишь смерть ценой любвиЧто ты владычица боишьсяИзьян сокрыт в чертах твоих ?И что любовники, коль живыПо миру срам твой разнесутТвои соперницы кичливоТебя злословью предадут ?”И Клеопатра уязвленнаК помосту тотчас подошлаИ пред толпою изумленнойПокровы все с себя сняла.”С троих я вызов ваш снимаю” -Надменно молвила она:”И новый жребий назначаю,Коль вам по прежнему мила.Кто жизнь сейчас свою положитНа роковой алтарь любвиПро вас никто сказать не сможетЧто слепо на смерть вы пошли!”И те же трое вмиг блаженноКолени преклонили к нейС ланит царицы обнаженнойГорячих не сводя очей.”Чтож – решено” – она сказала:”Теперь покиньте все меня,”Но нет, не ты” – и указалашуту на место вблизь себя.”Тебя же шут я посвящаюВ свидетели ночей моих … -Жизнь сохранишь ты, обещаюНо глаз лишишься ты своих !По завершенью испытаньяТебя велю я ослепитьИ этой мерой наказаньяТебе за дерзость отплатить !Пусть пред тобой как в наважденьиДо края доски гробовойВсе образ знойный, ст�
  1. At The Dawn of The Twentieth Century
  2. Protected: The eternal curse!
  3. Generalizing identities for Pi & its convergents
  4. О доступе к вкушению плодов древа знаний
  5. Истории моей эмиграции
  6. Большой Театр открылся после Перестройки
  7. Пролетает над грешной Землёй метеор
  8. Когда в Раю случился первородный грех
  9. My resume
  10. Глупцу
  11. Вновь про талисман
  12. Корабль мечты
  13. Иллюзий хрупких юности узорчатый рассыпался витраж
  14. Древо жизни
  15. Мертво искусство без души
  16. Strikes heavy bombing roar rumbling bass
  17. Россия – расстались навсегда с тобой евреи…
  18. Никто не учится увы истории урокам
  19. Alexander R. Povolotsky – Approximate identities based on linear combinations of symbolic constants
  20. Alexander R. Povolotsky – Quantitative analysis of knowledge.
  21. Review of “Newton’s Laws – The Concepts”
  22. My discussion with Ray Solomonoff
  23. BBP identity yielding rational number
  24. Alexander R. Povolotsky – Logarithm, Pi related and other identities
  25. Entire English language poetry collection
  26. Pi approximations by roots of Diophantine equation
  27. Re-rise of Islamism & decline of Western Judo-Christian Civilization
  28. Who was driving the *show* during the collapse of the Soviet Union (USSR)?
  29. Sonnets (in Russian)
  30. В подражанье к Тютчеву (lyrics in Russian)
  31. Уже погасли фонари
  32. Вчера я видел сон (lyrics in Russian)
  33. Вина бокал (Lyrics in Russian)
  34. Ramanujan constant related stuff
  35. Extending Braille notation for math, physics and chemistry ?
  36. Entire poetry collection
  37. Alexander R. Povolotsky – BBP formula for Pi in a slight disguise
  38. Alexander R. Povolotsky -Three hard to prove conjectures
  39. “This guy”
  40. Infinite sums for Euler number (Napier’s constant) & its roots
  41. Alexander R. Povolotsky – Poetical improvisation on Pushkin’s ‘Egyptian Nights’
  42. Alexander R. Povolotsky – Formulas on k-folded sums of powers.
  43. English translation of the “Unsmiling Tsarevna (Nesmeyana)” song
  44. Napoleon vs Russia
  45. USSR’s demise & dissolution caused 4 fold Dow-Jones growth
  46. Brief rhymed reviews for selected books
  47. “Young And Tender Love Forever”
  48. The quotes, which I made up
  49. My English translation of A. S. Pushkin’s “The Night”, which he wrote in 1823
  50. Do you love or just want to be loved ?
  51. Моя остановка
  52. My Jewish People, Israel – I am your proud son !
  53. Besame Mucho Juanita, the Mexican girl
  54. Stepp but stepp around
  55. Please now look at me
  56. New shocking findings on the Beauty and the Beast ;-)
  57. On Love and Poetry
  58. There was a girl
  59. To YOU
  60. “Ошибся я, ошиблась ты”
  61. On USSR/Russia history – brief notes
  62. The bouquet of roses
  63. “Посмотри на небе звёзды горят”
  64. The mirror (in Russian)
  65. Стареющий певец
  66. variation on Goethe’s
  67. Lyrics – for the song (in Russian)
  68. Слова любви
  69. I don’t want to read your book
  70. Я стою на краю
  71. The ballad about the king, his daughter and her young lover
  72. Два имени (two names)
  73. Много лет тому назад
  74. variation on Goethe’s (in Russian)
  75. The mirror (lyrical poetry – in Russian)
  76. Jipsy motives – in Russian
  77. Из камня слова моего (lyrics in Russian)
  78. Ушли любовь, страданья, муки (lyrics in Russian)
  79. Бесцельна жизнь
  80. My tribute to Omar Khayyam