Gaia Community: Yana's Blog

stuff the Moon Goddess is made of..

http://yana.gaia.com — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 00:51:34 GMT

sap rising, boiling at the heart
honey breath, salty saffron-ny skin...
sticking your tongue out is almost
like taking out your heart. on you
Moon Goddess is planting her fingerprints
Sinking deeper, under the web of veins.

chocolate tongue shaving your wrist
so appallingly close to the skin
that your heartbeat changes.
you can count it as much as you want,
but once you have touched her
the heartbeat is also yours,
and of course you can expect the sap rising.

on the hammock of your eyelashes she
comes to sleep, resting dreamily all of
her moods on your forehead, the whole
universe comes pouring {down} heavily
{in your bed}
and you turn, swim, stretch,
trying all night to wake her.

In the day she has rusted your blood
and you can taste her in the autumnal apples. She is
warm, cool, medium rare
and full of wildness of plants and animals.
and once she had touched you/ not
long ago/ at breakfast.

Hair turned silver, touched
with her webbed fingers, and stars
she forgot in the corner of your lips. Riding
the waves laughing, she is just a queenly kid.
you know...

carving a daily haiku onto your skin, she
is a mystic carpenter, and able
to whisper into your ear quietly secrets..
to pry apart your chest, laying heavily
on your main breathing..
to taste of saffron..

Tags: poem, poetry, goddess, love, haiku, moon

Pick three words that describe you as you are right now.

http://yana.gaia.com — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:09:06 GMT

awed by a new baby, blissful, but tired

Tags: QaR, words, description, self

What question made the biggest impact on your life?

http://yana.gaia.com — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 03:05:34 GMT

what are my priorities?

Tags: QaR, questions, change, world, perspective, difference

leaving not through a window

http://yana.gaia.com — Sun, 18 May 2008 05:01:27 GMT

what did you do ?
why did you curl up to me
carved in and in and cuddled to my wounds
like wild grapevine climbed through my fingers
grasping each one – only to be near.

you will leave, I will stay,
warming with wool socks occasional hurts
I only ask of you, departing be silent
be silent about the significant

this happened long time ago and not to us:
one time leaving, you leave the door a crack open
not a word, nod or look
only the smell of your incense is still unrelenting

Tags: poem, poetry, love, lesbian

..to wake up next to you..

http://yana.gaia.com — Sun, 18 May 2008 03:48:53 GMT

my dreams never come true, luckily, do you hear me?-
the clock is ticking nightmare-ishly. backwards…
if dreams don’t come true,- apparently happiness happens
as it does if we still breathe together in unison

listen, there is still hope, but every night, like a throbbing wound:
on the corner of January we are to meet each other again and again…
only in this poisonous dream you are waiting for somebody else.
and I end up dying painfully early.

my dreams don’t come true

… if only you wait for me ..

somewhere…somehow ..and even with someone, - just linger… I pray…
I lose you a thousand times over with every new sunrise
only here let me survive and in our next life
we will wake up together…

Tags: peom, poetry, love, dreaming, waking up, life

to the beloved goddess

http://yana.gaia.com — Sun, 18 May 2008 03:12:53 GMT

in the broken glass of my night sky
dreams flow and a star rises
a ray of light, a lonely road
I fold my wings and take my heart out
so soft in the palm of my hand
I offer my heart to the Goddess
in this darkness I understand the light
the promise lives within me now
I am on my way home

Tags: goddess, poem, poetry, beloved, love, pagan, wiccan, mother, earth

Russian Morningsong english translation

http://yana.gaia.com — Sun, 06 Jan 2008 15:22:23 GMT

a step into emptiness..
my morning became thinner
and the dawn is tattered like a ghost
realization.. : .. no this is not bliss,
only maybe.. decaying pain of your touch

you, having smoothed with your palm
the white sketch of my soul,
.. jab a black flag into my heart
and yell.. “ breathe, hopeless bitch,
deeper, breathe.. since you – it is me..

walking out of august in your spider web dress ..
so useless.. to smile with your eyes
you - are a cruel boulder,
but you remember the circling of the
sheets.. polished with whispers
of broken lines of the two bodies..

..[we are silent in different languages we]
nervous-summer
pages of unwritten prose
out of my ripped out heart..
letters of night illusions.. mirage of a dream
like etymologist I hiccup ..
after syllable.. I lo..
long, lower, Lorraine..
..my morning became thinner and the dawn
under my skin so coldly snowing..

Tags: poem, poetry, love, beloved, haiku

What book are you reading right now?

http://yana.gaia.com — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 23:13:23 GMT

rudolf steiner - the kingdom of childhood

about waldorf education. it's awesome

Tags: QAR, read, books

russian morningsong

http://yana.gaia.com — Mon, 20 Aug 2007 15:38:20 GMT

шагнув в пустоту ..

и утро стало тоньше

и рассвет растерзан словно призрак

чувствуя.. : .. нет, это не блажь,

если только.. забродившая боль.. куража

ты, разгладив ладонью белый чертеж души,
.. воткнешь черный флаг в сердцевину
и закричишь.. " чертова стерва, дыши,
глубже, дыши.. ведь ты -- это я..

выходя из августа в платье из паутины..
бесполезно.. смеяться слезами
мы -- молчаливые глыбы,

но мы вспоминаем круговорот

простыней .. затертых до шепота ломаных линий тела..

.. [ я молчала на разных с тобой языках ]

нервное-лето

страницы непрочтенной лирики

из вырванного сердца..

ночных иллюзий буквы.. галлюцинации мечты

как этимолог заикаюсь.. на слоге лю

люпины, люфт, слюна..

и утро стало тоньше и рассвет как

снег идет под кожей

August 20 2007

Tags: russian, poetry, morningsong, poem, ctansy

night whispers into the shell of ear...

http://yana.gaia.com — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 19:15:49 GMT

***
night whispers into the shell of ear
[.. do you dance ? ]
so slowly – tender dance of snails
[ two bodies – bullets – fingertips..]
mouths on slimy pavement,
- grey invisible feet .. “ with melancholy ”..
the outstretch of stranger’s body lines and
velvet valleys in which to dance
with still shell housings.. motionless – ly
Snail-turtle-body shell full of wildness
of plants and animals. Dance with me.
we – they dance, mirror image
in puddles..[ this shell perfumed-
decorated-shredded-left open
..unneeded ]

Tags: night, whispers, into, the shell, of, ear, do, you, dance, tender, snails

verses, inspired by Death be Merciful

http://yana.gaia.com — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 22:25:34 GMT

dust – pollen.
..in the middle of photo erased face.
marks leftover from fingertips.
from under lowered eyelashes cannot see the face
facial expression… you were saying?
so empty now..forget it , don’t howl
don’t scream. spit it out, throw away
mix with rain and rub it
into the dust – your face
real-unreal, was it? .. what even was it?
sucks. but really.. does not matter now.. emptytalking..
Here it’s chilly autumn, there – late august
and everlasting summer. The rules of epitaph writing
are trash if reading a life like a play, suddenly
pages fall down .. ungatherable – rules are useless
past autumn has a past summer. Don’t you see I am loosing
leaves with trees. Harvest them, put them in a plant study.
You and your fox behaviors.
There is not enough open space for words in this text.
used discarded. words and beading and us
spill into caviar, fingers, eyelashes, tears.
we run away to pieces. Magician was…and
the trick was He talked about the meaning of dreams,
of breaking of now, of verse, of breaking of words, promises, bre-aking
favorite teapot. Ah, and the cowboy was – now no more,
titanic settling to the bottom.for life. It’s A life sentence..
I am letting the words go. Heresy-ology
scientifically moves emotions through blood,
I am letting you go.. parallel worlds-traintracks –
our nerve endings.. tied into the knot .stationary.
like the knotted writing of Indians . Ashes.
Pour some water for me, will you?
do you remember photos? yes? who cares,
y o u d i e d

Tags: death, love, wallowing in self-pity, stansy

ten p.m.

http://yana.gaia.com — Sun, 28 Jan 2007 03:12:45 GMT

***

nighty night-

big and dark

like a bear.

Moon beckons

with one crazy eye white..

World dropped

the innocence,

It's clear

world doesn't care.

I play you.

Who keeps the score?

I - pass..

Tags: poem, night, abstract

be..lo..ved

http://yana.gaia.com — Wed, 17 Jan 2007 02:43:13 GMT

you have stone eyes
skin in scratches
sun that falls and rises

inside your head. It’s time
for you to be born
into the red clouds

close, snug, pleasureful
in the heart of silence,
with vibration of strings.. hatch

and the taste of your birth
so illegally real, so wild, you,
I devour your velvet

..I am yours

Tags: love, sensual, awakening, poem, beloved, she, goddess

gothic cradlesong

http://yana.gaia.com — Tue, 16 Jan 2007 04:41:31 GMT

notification: battery being charged.
touching with brain waves
naked steeple of Francis Assisi

..prickly gothic.. Do you wish
me to shave my heart? I will

..your cashmere pajamas sleep..
..clinging to cold hardwood..
asleep, you childishly mutter

and these fiery wires love
your freckled cheeks..

such devilish gothic- she
the steeples-nipples of church
in Italy, and stomach-canvas..

do you wish, I will write on it
with my tongue.. for.e.ver..

Tags: gothic, lullaby, love, sensual, poem

sage in her pocket

http://yana.gaia.com — Wed, 27 Dec 2006 15:31:12 GMT

she has sage in her pocket
I have love for her
as of today she has aids

now I will peel oranges
..death be merciful.
holding hands and smiling

our sad smiles.
now we still live
each other

" Re: death be merciful

mary said about 1 hour ago:

the candle flickers
the flame is all-consuming
entwined, we both burn

the night is howling
it is the highest honor
to be here with you

will you hold my hand?
as we burn so shall we rise
ever emerging"

*-**

mixing your eyelashes
with crystal drops
with stars of your eyes

with the cracked skin of fingertips
with mocha skin scales
with apple croissants shared

with leaves falling, like goodbyes

to last me gently

through and through (..you?)

Tags: haiku, death, love

lullabies...

http://yana.gaia.com — Mon, 27 Nov 2006 05:04:05 GMT

Lullabies...

Sleep in the hollow cavity, where body
found itself in twilight. white cotton
of bed will soften for body its fall
when there is nothing to do except
to collapse into the snow of down
-
Dream about anything; anchovies,
leather belts, animals, ribbons, fruit,
hiding places, snakes of Colombia, AIDS,
biology, atoms, snapshots of a familiar face
witch, witches dancing, dance.
-
Confused. we are from different towns
with roads between them sprinkled with salt
from my non-lullabies, so it's not
slippery when you, so accident prone,
accidentally fall asleep.
-
Sleep on the roads, on which Carmen red colored
summer is drawn and warm oars, loads
of spam filtering- cross you into this
wintery dream, spinning into the web of
other-reality the actuality of life
-
Wind at your back. Sleep. This town
is slipping. Wind, speaking in native
tongues, plays with the end of the day, splitting
the crosswalk zebra, offering it to the North.
Sleep on my verses unrhymed yet. Unwritten.
-
Islands - towns, connected through rain
and straight phone lines are calling each other.
Clouds envelop. Sleep. When moon cuts a part
of sky out to put in your pocket. It's time.
Ash beats in the quiet heart. Calm it down.
-
Sleep. So simply. When your daily haiku
is burned onto your skin and messages
fly about the open space. It's late.
Sleep now. Time hangs in the spaces of
s t a r s . quietly seagulls fish

Tags: poetry, poem, dream, dreaming, lullaby

And What To Do With This Fall, Damn

http://yana.gaia.com — Thu, 23 Nov 2006 05:28:48 GMT

...
Like the shadow licking the wall so nightmare-ishly
crawls down - everything drowns this fall in the color
of butterfly wing, freshly baked bread and autumnal apples .
and rust colored autumnal blood so teasingly runs
through our sorrowful veins. Injecting chill laughter for
last of the showing of skin and acknowledgement
that after cold rains there will always come winter.
Soul stuck in-between the body and sense of balancing,
nervous strain. Not knowing to choose normality
or measure sand. Because you know even if you
can come out of yourself to embrace one last time
and inhale summer musk and to cure the yearning,
- you will still ache. Fall is so awful,
just want to be gray or a deer, a bear, a rebel
till needles fill ears and throat doesn’t say, and the heart
feverish trying to fight the flu. On the raft of fallen leaves
pulp of a lotus you drift. Just listen.

Tags: poem, poetry, autumn, fall, nostalgia, lotus