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me_pathos_se_agapisa_ossowski bozena

me_pathos_se_agapisa_ossowski bozena

LESYA MUDRAK is an active and non-conformist poet.

Olesya is an author of three poetry collections The Insane Calm of Eternal Instant (Kyiv, 2004), The Naked Solitude (Kyiv, 2006), and The Horizontal Zebra (Kyiv, 2009).
She is also a winner of National program Ukraines National Olympus (Kyiv, 2009), a prize offered by 1+1 TV channel (2004), and a private Ukrainian-German prize (Wuppertal, 2006).
She has a diploma of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism For Significant Contribution to the Development of Culture and Arts in Ukraine (2009).
Olesya is a graduate of Creative Writing department in Kyiv National Taras Shevchenko University. She also defended a thesis and obtained a Ph.D. in Philology.
She has participated in numerous conferences, festivals, literary forums, meetings of young writers and poets, TV and radio broadcasts.
Her poems have been translated into Polish, German, Belarusian, and Bulgarian languages.
Dmytro Drozdovsky, a writer and a known researcher of world literature, describes her in the following way: Olesya Mudrak is a special phenomenon in Ukrainian poetry. Naturally, phenomena can be ambiguous: some believe the sun is too hot, some are afraid to go outside during a star shower, some have trouble sleeping when the moon is full. It is the same with the works by this talented young girl some readers are getting anxious and some, irritated. There are many rebukes we can make to her, but it is impossible to deny that her poetry is real. It is rebellious, tender, frank and sophisticated but the main thing is that it is real Poetry. I wont throw about fancy words, instead I just want to bring home an important and simple thought: Olesya Mudrak is distinctive and inimitable. Just as the poetry itself is.

In one of his speeches, Mykola Zhulynsky, a member of the Academy of Sciences, stressed that if Ukraine had more authors like Lesya Mudrak, Ukrainian culture would always be filled with light.

****

Pulse opened up 
in forms of clay.
All set in stone.

All except us

You are driving
broken waves

I start trembling
I am burned

 Bored?!
 No!
Up in
 flames.
Filled up evening
drags us along.

Youre saying:
 Im thinking

The bodys a mine
Im polishing the bronze
of my feelings by a feather.
Here  were engaged - 
fingers alight.

This is the love
of a hundred voices..
Howling, there is no way out

Give yourself as you are
Energy out.
Im not a mistress!
Im not the one they call when needed
Wait!
 Dont go!
Dont go!
It is  
much too high
there  much too hiiiiigh.
much-toooooo-hiiiigh!!!!


****

Stop!!! Ob-vi-ous
via the lobe, ooo!
Here, look  is it you,
or is it not:
forgot,
         your God,
                jackpot
A gnome wailing in the head
he-he-he-head

tears in my eyes:

Izolda without Tristan
lived through three
             states,
                     and not
Olzha?! sting 
        in your
              womb?! 
                    split-
ting
      VIP trance 
marriage vows 
                         arise
Do you have a lover?
And  STOP!
Again  to your post?!
Your inner Fortune
raises a toast:
 To you, to me,
                          and to our child
What it Tibet for us,
                does it matter 
we are going back, and still deeper
                Dasein,
drink
what the moon has taken,aaah! 
this is the language of these bodies:
quietly, quietly going in circles
Count?..
Mastering final amount?
Then  STOPPP!!!
                             aha!
you cant see the bottom!


 Ode ( or H-DEAR!?) to the Heart 
(diptych)


Troll of the body.
But you,
you wanted that?
Trolling and rolling ))))

My head is a crack
You?
        Want?
More!

Spiraling up and up
Attacking from everywhere
I cannot breathe
Bards  in ribs
Rib on music
Retro in pillow
buckling eyes  I-can-not
sleep!
Backing my sleep with matches
matchy
floor with you as cover 
at a ninety-degree angle

Hail? ALL?!!!

Meetings, in loin
your subconscious consciousness
bleeds in snake knots
at a knuckle
At a knuckle
Tsu-na-mi
          me.


Indifference and despair
being cardiocentric

The aorta has grazed
the point in the knotted heart.
Heart is skeptical and aseptical, 
would you just stop

Wrap up in the city hustle,

take up some cocaine, swim in a fish tank

with the fish already dead!

Water prints as bestiary.
                                        And
fish heart as drymba

Ill take Yiddish womb out -
And insert two circles 
Night as a bisector of angles

I am alone.

And 

NAKED

  ***

You are not ready
                  steady?
                          Lady?
Summer locked up in myth.
The circle rushes to the depths strongly,
                              attractively
running in circles,
starting flames
                      Jumping in those 
depths primordially hot
Stones are fleeing to Egypt,
jumping over the fence
An Amazonian with a ball.
Ball as a muse.
                      IS!
                              IT!
                                    YOU?!
 Your knights move!
Dont brake
                   Dont
                             break
Scythian, drinking somma, 
dont share it!!!
You are not ready
Dancing stature
of curves and hips  
plastered on lips
Did it happen?
             Here!
                    !
It is on the moon that the naked
                       foot is dancing
You are not reeeeeeeeeady (well, just not ready - here!!!!!!!!!!!!)
to 
be my time
from the early hours till eternal night

* * * 

Throw your crown
in a hole,
screw out the earths cap...
Your fiestas marathon:
                                     Fee!     yesss!      tar?!
Take by the crown -
                                      from below -
Ill pray you out  to water..
                        Ill claw out everything holy
that youve got left...
Swirl,
               suffer,
                                 search...
Ill bite you!

Relationship to be attacked 
by piles
of papyrus,
or a barefooted
book,
our common anaphora
Then Ill throw
scores of turtles and gurdles,
to be with You...

To Hell with You!!!!

I see it in heaven...

Soon...
oh so soon...
the crust of bed...
                           will submit....
                                           and fall off....
EEEEEAT!

                                                HEEEEERE

ֳ...
 
  ,  ...

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        ...

Eros and Tanatos

Kissing
I get it
our kiss is as hard as death

Stink of streets and cheecks
Just snow pouring out
or pouring in
Seals of touches,
room is crunching
Our spa
And
paradigm of dates
kissing your finger paaa

I am not fighting
with fins
you take off your dress, and
theres
a rib
from Adam,
or Amsterdam
Not about it
not about it
I am about

Writing style and write-in-style getting harder:
From poems,
Not bodies

Cause you
Will
Tomorrow
Mix
My shadow
Into
Cold clay

(! )

 .
  
--?!
 )))

  
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  .

 


         

!
Ode ( or H-DEAR!?) to the Heart

Troll of the body.
But you,
you wanted that?
Trolling and rolling ))))

My head is a crack
You?
        Want?
More!

Spiraling up and up
Attacking from everywhere
I cannot breathe
Bards  in ribs
Rib on music
Retro in pillow
buckling eyes  I-can-not
sleep!
Backing my sleep with matches
matchy
floor with you as cover 
at a ninety-degree angle

Hail? ALL?!!!

Meetings, in loin
your subconscious consciousness
bleeds in snake knots
at a knuckle
At a knuckle
Tsu-na-mi
          me.




Indifference and despair
being cardiocentric

The aorta has grazed
the point in the knotted heart.
Heart is skeptical and aseptical, 
would you just stop

Wrap up in the city hustle,

take up some cocaine, swim in a fish tank

with the fish already dead!

Water prints as bestiary.
                                        And
fish heart as drymba

Ill take Yiddish womb out 
And insert two circles 
Night as a bisector of angles

I am alone.

And 

NAKED
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS....
                                                     ...
  .
                                              ...
    
 
-
 
 ...

  ...

   
 


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   ...

    
, ...

̳-- 
  

  
 ...
   
  ...
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...

  

  
                  ...

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS....


Pieces into syntagma...
sinewaves of my knee.
atoms of white act...
activated pain reel
in hands
Overkissed
With
Tango

salt in bosom...

target in the sun
of my spine


not the one not the one not the ooooooooooone.

Dead souls Tantalus
From the cross to the target

Making tea in a well,
Naked, green


Milonga
At the crossroads

of dead souls
empty vials
Sex looming
in publicity rib.
Danced, dan-
ced
with dead rooster or
with
sharp devil???

...aorta

of you palm

wont replace
the heart for me

 




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