1. Complementarity, which I began to tell you about, is a very important property of the Whole, including Its periphery, because from it It controls the Balance of forces that control Eternity.
2. I told you about neutrality, about the need to achieve neutrality, because neutrality, or in a sense, balance or Harmony of forces, is the achievement by the System of a state of equilibrium, without which the evolutionary development of Eternity is impossible.
3. Explaining to you the Canon of the Unity and struggle of opposites, I said that in Eternity, consisting of energies of different signs and different energy densities, there are constantly processes of interpenetration of energy flows, centripetal and at the same time centrifugal direction.
4. These flows create a great movement of redistribution of energy, which ensures, on the one hand, the improvement of the diverse Whole, but on the other hand, this is the basis of the evolutionary SPIRAL of Eternity, constantly striving to expand ITS boundaries!
5. In this regard, as I told you, the vector of human function is directed towards the vector of the reversal of the Logos of the Earth, which allows humanity, as part of the Ocean of Mind, to go through the entire evolutionary cycle and participate in the expansion of the energy Space of Eternity.
6. Do not be confused by My words about the intricacies of the redistribution of energy, about achieving at each stage of the evolutionary path (at the moment of ensuring the neutrality of the Whole) a powerful impulse (release) of energy, because a person at his micro level completely repeats the path of the Whole, because he was created in the likeness of the Whole !
7. You are on the periphery of the Whole, but the principles of fractal similarity confirm that a person, as a part of the Whole, albeit peripheral, completely repeats the evolutionary path of the Whole and not only generates or releases psychic energy into the Cosmos, but also receives energy flows from It!
8. In this energy exchange, the role of mankind is to repeat the path of perfection of the Whole in these counter flows of energy and go through the full cycle of the evolution of Consciousness, approaching the Whole at each stage of evolution!
9. I encoded all the main Canons of Eternity, which a person should be guided by, in the New Prayer, giving you the opportunity to feel the path of the evolutionary ascent of the Spirit, or the Subtle Fields of a person, through observance, and most importantly, understanding of the Canons of Eternity!
10. Therefore, when I tell you about the fractal similarity of the periphery and the Whole, I confirm our similarity with you, for you are created to expand the boundaries of the Mind in the vastness of the constantly evolving Eternity.
11. This must be understood and Believed in this Truth, because it contains the FREEDOM of choice, and this is Creativity, but it must be remembered that each Creation, or the result of Creativity, bears a measure of responsibility, since non-compliance with the Canons of Eternity can lead to the most sad results.
12. Compliance with the Canons of Eternity is the main requirement for all levels of the Whole, of course, including man, because it explains the direction of development (improvement) of Eternity and the purpose of the creation of Eternity itself!
13. Eternity! Think about the meaning of this word, for Eternity is the infinity of perfection and the infinity of the boundaries of creativity based on the stages of constant evolution!
14. Perfection, in turn, is the highest form of the Harmony of order, accompanied by a powerful impulse of the energy of Creation at the moment when the System reaches an equilibrium or balance of forces!
15. Everything in this World is in constant motion, and instant stops are moments of redistribution and relaxation of energy of different signs!
16. For a person as an energy Essence, repeating the complete evolutionary process of the Whole, but located in the World of dense energy or, as I said, in the World of feelings and emotions, the manifestation of the Canons of Eternity is a reaction to the Space in the form of feelings and emotions of a person.
17. I told you that everything around you is energy! Including your feelings for the World around you, including Planet Earth, for the World of energy of different planes (signs) and different energy densities (vibration frequencies)!
18. Your emotions are your reaction to this seething World, in which you have now turned out to be the most active participants, comprehending, in the course of your evolutionary ascension, the science of the Great Whole!
19. This is the most difficult exam, but this is your test on Planet Earth, because the difficulty of comprehending the Canons of Eternity lies precisely in the fact that, while evolving, improving your inner “I”, you also understand the “RULES OF THE GAME”, laid at the foundation of the great evolution of Space.
20. You have not only to comprehend the Whole, the Canons of Eternity and use Them in order to successfully pass the accelerated “course” of transition from the periphery to the Whole!
21. Humanity, as a part of the Whole, is simply obliged to be similar to the Whole, and there is no other way to the Whole, and now it is passing a difficult exam of self-improvement, sometimes not realizing the inevitability and complexity of the path of improvement “from scratch”!
22. What you have to go through goes beyond your ideas about Eternity, and above all because the scale of the evolutionary change of the Whole (I repeat: the Whole), including humanity, will be very significant.
23. Your ideas about yourself, about your similarity to the Whole and about your role in Eternity no longer correspond to future changes in Space.
24. I ask you to understand that you are like the Whole (Me) and created for independent evolution from the periphery to the Whole, for on the next stage evolution you become Whole!
25. But the Whole, as I told you, is a multi-level energy Space, and, having become the Whole, humanity will not stop its evolutionary improvement, FOR THERE IS A BEGINNING, BUT THERE IS NO END OF EVOLUTION!
26. On the path of perfection, both the Whole and you (as a part of the Whole) go through all stages of evolution, and a sign of reaching evolutionary peaks (stages) is the release or release of energy into the Cosmos!
27. The release of energy occurs only at the moment when the neutrality of the energy field is reached, because this is the pinnacle of creativity, when CREATION, or the result of creativity, is Harmony, there is Love, which means reaching the peak (stage) of evolution!
28. Fractal similarity, neutrality (in your opinion - WISDOM), a constant increase in the frequency of vibration (transition from the Dense plane to the Subtle fields), universality and integrity - these are just some of the main characteristics of the Whole that you need to understand and accept in your development, or improvement, because all these characteristics are fully relevant to you.
29. Do not be afraid of this terminology, because, bringing you to the Quantum transition, I want to see in you not naive contemplators, but active participants in Creativity, because what awaits you and Me, the Logos of the Planet, is the CREATION OF A NEW WORLD - a multi-level World of high frequencies vibrations, and our CO-CREATION is the key to the perfection of Space (Eternity)!!!
Life has a beginning, but... no... end...
I will look at the very bottom,
and there is no sun on the bottom,
there is no sun, there is no ray ...
I’ll have a bite, but a cucumber ...
And the soul lies, yes - on a silver platter
with a blue, oh, yes, rim ...
Just don't need nobody
my lonely darling...
I'm almost forgotten and abandoned
something tears roll like peas,
and spring outside the windows is viscous,
you, spring, have already tortured me.
And streams in the snow lie frozen,
and from this - as if bitterer to me,
and in the window the chilly sun is crying,
wrapped in clouds of rags.
Do not scare me with cold winds, -
anyway, we were always friends,
if I do not die, I will fill my chest with wind:
this wind is cold - blows sadness.
Everything is not forgotten, not abandoned,
rolled around the corners of the pea ...
Oh, I'm tired, brothers, yes - to rub my eyes ...
Yes, and what’s the point, yes, - everyone is looking back ...
Everything melted into chaos
we are all careful in life,
not thinking about the cross...
unable to see the lies
from foolishness and falsehood,
squeezing your last penny...
Naivety with meanness and lies
live in me without regret...
The soul is silent, but ... I feel a burning sensation
The day will come - winter and Maya ...
A dull city ... Warmed by eternity -
life is waiting, at least ... empty to the extreme ...
and we are all waiting for the promised summer...
It will come, of course, but... then...
someday - warm, if he can ...
It's great that I know life!
She looks like my mom!
I haven't been, I haven't been for a long time
together with him ... He just went out
and ... left, and I was in vain
waiting for him... Such a measure...
Living alone is dangerous
although I'm not the first...
Alone, of course
something is almost over the edge...
It's neither heads nor tails...
it's just waiting...
Spring is still insanely far away:
February wheezes in the shafts of the ringing night,
on the radiation for three months they laugh,
spring grabbing zealously by the sides ...
A shard of the moon still shines,
but do not catch the rest of the night by the tail,
although we are always true to each other
among the insanely passionate dots ...
I suddenly feel the spring
when February still looms in the snow
and in the winter sky the lunar ball jumps,
and I won't sleep again today...
And there is no spring, alas, yet,
although winter has already ended its life ...
Spring is still far away
pulsing under snow-white skin...
Winter... Sad and... dark...
In space closed and cold,
like clouds - rings of smoke
floating through a frozen window...
As if eternity has stopped
in the century-old floorboards...
I am pinned to this eternity:
life, like a room, is small ...
Winter ... And in sticky silence
mother-in-law does not stop grumbling ...
It's probably easier to live with grumbling
as in an abandoned graveyard:
rains wash the bones...
They are uncomplainingly sinful...
Winter ... Cold and angry,
And in the mirror is no longer a boy ...
Alas, no luck here...
And the room is dark again...
In space closed and cold
my soul - a ring of smoke -
floats through a frozen window.
In February - on the eve of a crazy night
the snow did not melt under your window
and traces of ridiculous dots
measured off the metronome on duty ...
There would be a sense in the smoothness of life ...
but do not hide your eyes anywhere:
even pain is desperately open,
and you can't lie to yourself...
Outside the window, the moon shakes the spring
and February burns in the wind ...
and a lemon melts in a cup of tea,
like the night, with sourness, - in the morning ...
Snow melts - empty tears:
spring and winter say goodbye.
No forgiveness for promises -
not poetry, but prose...
We have no regrets
in the impossibility of frost.
The snow has melted. Tears melt -
accomplices of doubt.
Cold, cold summer clouds
crawling through the windows, squeezing into the soul,
and it seems - the day flies off the coils,
piercing the night like a blade...
cutting through the flesh of space on the fly,
and time freezes in the interim of the day,
how cool tea, brewed so cool,
that divides life into this and ... into that ...
Grunts crush conversation into dust
and we are silent more and more often - there is no reason ...
and we all walk in a circle, as if in a zone,
carrying, alas, by all means nonsense ...
No one hears - even in the void,
and there is no goodbye as well as meeting,
and you are waiting for something, but there is nothing to think about ...
they are mediocre, and we ... not the same ...
what seems like silence
merry country gone mad.
In shards of drunken glass
the faces of poets grimaced,
life seemed to flow in them
and not about that, and not about this:
she is in colored glass spirit
bifurcated and circled,
splashing foam fluff
and dissolving veins in threads ...
And in this pool of worlds
soul sank overnight ...
I was sick and well
although it was not a whole, but a part ...
And life circled and attracted
to the limits unknown to me,
she was and wasn't
sang songs in my ear...
I've been waiting for almost a hundred years:
the floorboards creak godlessly...
and a shadow on the desk -
what makes the heart beat...
Just cold...
Seems like forever...
I won’t get warm with the Belomorkanal…
Life was and ... suddenly it was gone ...
On the face - neither benefit nor harm.
Just cold...
It looks like from the inside...
You can't warm your soul even with vodka...
Life lay down with a short rope -
As if someone accidentally cut her hair ...
Just cold...
Nightlessness is almost gone...
and the air is a little bitter,
Moon in the window and in silence
spring is dripping sweetly...
And I don't have anyone to drink with...
at least tea ... Gloomy ... cold ...
Random joyful impulse -
start a feast of the game
boil in a desperate struggle
be your own adversary
and another, if someone from above
will throw the news out the window:
To live even at night is destined
An asterisk flew ... - About something
someone's soul is saddened -
lonely, miserable little dog,
who has not a damn thing in life,
not even a simple dog house,
where would she spend her days ...,
and not that, - even just as a joke, -
to become that star at the moment of falling ...
Fool, you, Kolenka:
was and ... will be - naked ...
You don't understand, dear
it's better to be a pleaser
shut up, but a rag
hide to sweetie
in a circle to be checked…
Well, if I did not believe,
here, and came out ... - Kolenka,
as if in a bath - naked.
We will fly away with you like birds,
to the warmth, beyond the blue seas:
say goodbye to the pink mist,
ripping off a calendar sheet...
And wash away the waves of the ocean
tangled footsteps,
and the clouds in the fog will sink
against the background of rose water ...,
and - in spite of everyone: to the sound of the surf
let's slide on the tip of the dawn,
and will sometimes wonder
that we soar above the waves ...
We will leave on the edge of the earth
everything that came true and did not come true -
on dark spots of thawed patches, -
and soul - wet through and through ...
I'm sitting like a smart one - in a poncho -
under the lazy southern sun:
you don't need to think about anything
like life is over...
And spots in the sun again
the sea is gray with laziness
and logs hiss in the fire,
muttering, alas, - indistinctly,
the waves slosh wearily,
it would be easier to gush and ... stay, -
so they do not like to say goodbye:
life is never enough.
Sing, my guitar, louder -
the time of year is not a problem...
I would sit in the rays of success,
but all the same, brothers, - in ... a poncho.
I'll clench a penny in my fist:
there was no happiness and no ...
Pour me a stack,
so that the light would be white,
so that in sunsets and dawns
there was no silence
to live as a poet
and dig yourself to the bottom,
to tear yourself apart
but do not tear out the heart suddenly,
so that there is still happiness,
to be both an enemy and a friend,
to wait and wait
to believe and forgive
to live openly, brothers,
just don't let go of stupidity.
Put me in forget-me-nots
so that they do not forget until dawn,
that summer is not over yet
and until autumn the whole day;
to drink all my life without a trace,
so that the sun shines on the bottom,
so that the soul does not grumble, but sing,
to live, not to speculate.
Everything is strange: empty nights,
days without peace and warmth,
day - as if by the way,
and love is insanely evil,
and in a glass without a trace
dreams fade...
As the soul is greedy for vodka -
we drink vodka and you and I,
just me without stopping
out of law, out of reason;
sober, I'm almost meek,
drunk - the first of the men;
not in an arc dry throat,
always wet it
better not water, but vodka,
not to be ashamed
for ruined happiness
for your eyes in tears,
so that I can always steal
your own and your eternal fear...
I'm almost tired of being angry
I'm torn to pieces from longing ...
Well, see you at the party.
I've been drinking for the last few days.
Everything is strange: empty nights,
days without peace and warmth...
and the soul between the lines
did not breathe, but lived.
Almost tired of loneliness:
glad to meet an old enemy,
and for three I want to drink so much,
like you don't want to lose...
Ah, if only I could survive in this life
I had the courage and strength...
but it pulls in the soul to shoot,
for someone to let go.
At a forgotten station
sagacious gypsy
guessed to live to the pain,
before - in the soul of the last colic,
to - fatigue in the knees,
to - the end of overcoming,
to - almost bottomless night,
to - almost - by the way,
to - the remainder in the vessel,
before - will not be at all,
to - farewell bell,
until the last sip...
It's not a shame to fly in the clouds,
only to death it is insulting:
what they wanted, they didn't have...
How tired of everyday life! ..
And at a distant station
maybe an old gypsy
thought to live differently?
What does this mean, brothers?
Far beyond the blue sky
infinity of life
and in snowy Russia
only you and me in the house
stuck friend to friend -
and cozy and warm -
I am a friend, and you are a friend, -
so lucky in life.
And the wind is knocking on the window:
Apparently he wants
to be in this white world,
like us, not alone.
Such a northern sea
that the south is desperately far away
and a day in an unthinkable minor, -
major in the north is not for the future.
But a sweaty guitar
sings about summer ... I would like that
and then they would sing for a couple,
but I'm alone: I sing out of time ...
And somewhere the sky sinks into the sea
and the sun hides in the sand...
And we are with you again in a minor -
like we're serving time.
I will return almost forgotten
broken word and rumor,
impossibly dirty life, -
but with a cheerful head.
And again my guitar
sounds softly...
We are a couple and not a couple,
she is both an enemy and a friend.
I'm a little afraid of her
and love without fuss.
These strings are strings to God, -
understand me and you.
The sounds are shrouded in mystery
like the poetry...
Impossible to be forgotten
if there are other sins.
Footprints in the freshly fallen snow
as always, mindlessly frank.
And I probably can again
break your fate over the knee.
Forgive myself for all my old sins
I will start again and again to sin from the beginning,
and sing verses in my soul,
as if she had been silent until now.
And in the wind - desperately light -
the last leaves will flutter from the birches,
welcoming the birth of a string
and life, and verse ... Do not need a point.
The fire does not burn in the furnace
and the bed is not warm
and the heart is beating
as if behind a door.
Days after days
fly past -
oh, moth-monsters:
summer, spring, winter...
Only stupid moon
does not give rest:
restless and crazy
can't reach by hand...
So I toil until dawn -
the owl itself…
something in the soul burns -
no peace...
Shard of the moon shines...
I'll forgive the rest of the night again:
we are always faithful to each other
among the weighty dots.
And the night was, and there was no winter:
lazily licked the fog roofs
and, alas, not we walked along the road,
and what was heard was not heard ...
mountains hung in the abyss of silence,
there were so many megas in the “mini” space…
and a feeling of exhausted guilt
sticking out furtively from under the snow.
The spoon rattles in the glass
the moon swings in the window,
in the car the floor always trembles,
how everything is trembling in my country...
And I'm on the second shelf
I lie, trembling to the beat,
and life seems like a game to me
in which everything is not so ...
But the spoon still rattles
in a glass, apparently - for a reason:
it's good to live in the world,
and even from scratch.
White bird outside my window
a black bird flew into the house ...
as if the shadow of fate loomed,
as if the path of the earth marked.
Something cold in the chest, something cold
as if this life has already been drunk to the bottom,
as if it had fluttered like a white bird,
to be buried somewhere on earth.
Do not forgive me if something is wrong:
if you know who is a friend, if you know who is an enemy ...
do not grumble in your soul - better speak out:
do not guess at death - guess at life.
I didn’t have time, I didn’t have time, - the strings are torn ...
there are no white birds for a long time, - only crows;
in the haze of memory is not a meeting, but a farewell, -
promises fly away like a cobweb ...
The night calls and I get up
and, piercing my eyes, I see:
shameless month in the window
perched on the edge
and winks - they say,
move, my friend, brains:
the lines don't come by themselves...
and shamelessly - shast on the table,
and to the table lamp ... I'm lying ...
no and there was no Luminary,
just something came up, -
apparently, brothers, not good ...
Spring snow striped dirty gray
absorbed all the fright of winter,
and the waves of Ladoga skerries wrinkle
under the summer sun, given out on loan;
and tears the sail into pieces, the wind is naughty,
and the seagull cuts the sky in half,
but the boat, restlessly tired,
marches inexorably towards us.
On the pier, where meetings are lonely,
where there is no reason to be angry and suffer, -
we just wait at the appointed time
those who know how to wait in this life ...
line in the palm of your hand
Yes, not very long
not a river, but a stream, -
the path is neither near nor far,
lost in the field trace, -
like it was, but now it's not, -
covered with snow
breaking my path...
Don't wait for me, don't wait
wash away the rains
all footprints
this dark night.
Oh you my line
why not very long?
A brook is not a river:
short line...
No winter yet
autumn ends with slush ...
we will be with you too
slightly crazy...
Return?.. And where?..
In the summer? .. Autumn is still closer:
even the wind licks the soul,
a star falls from the sky...
night shines in my window
reflecting the glare of happiness ...
I would like to be at least a part
happiness from outside...
Hush, hush, hush...
whoever needs it will hear
if only to God in the ears, -
if you don't want to, don't listen.
It was, it was - only with a cold wind
flew away - the heart ached
from unknown anxiety -
short road.
It was summer, only autumn somewhere
waiting, waiting, but no answer ...
and the line relentlessly
flies past.
Hush, hush, speak hush
it's our souls that breathe...
We would not live alone
until the deadline.
Bless me sadness...
I was waiting for fatigue in the answer
I didn't notice my question
that I don't mind the silence.
And I am silent, and you are silent,
seconds of false castanets
measure life, - at the same time,
just wasting time...
And I, risking ahead
running in a confusing space
behind the wind of indefatigable wanderings ...
I am tempered by good and evil...
And am I wondering?...
And should I lie without regret? ...
And should I live with a shadow? ...
And should I call everyone for help? ...
Bless me sadness...
Was my music?
They did not expect and did not believe ...
And I - a prisoner on duty -
resigned to loss...
and wept, not knowing tears,
drowned in the abyss of memory,
and the heart is not harmless
did not start the pendulum ...
and belated sounds
tingled with eternity...
and then - love shaloy
in the windings of transience ...
Was my music?
I don't know... I'm waiting for a whore...
I live as a prisoner on duty
and I think it will...
rushed like a thunderstorm along the edge of dawn ...
but I didn't seem to meet anyone,
and only an eagle soared in the sky ...
But was it? .. I'll start all over again ...
and somewhere I will rise, and somewhere I will die,
and somewhere, sad, push off from the pier,
forgetting the inevitable lifeline ...
It would not be like this, but ... it seems that it was:
a cold wind shook separation ...
but hope was nailed to the shore with a chip,
how carelessness began...
And what was it? .. As if the wind
covered with leaves almost half the earth ...
and I never met you on Earth ...
The wind must have made me angry...
The city where everything is torn apart
waiting for hundreds of years of frank happiness,
waits and does not believe ... But how can you believe,
if for centuries continuous losses,
if everything is confused, but inevitable,
if not here, here, but still between,
if in the eyes of the inevitability of sadness,
if not everyone shouted,
if grumbling knows no bounds,
if not the case, but only half the battle ...
If happiness is born in madness,
It means that you always have to tear yourself apart ...
No - not the north, no - not the north ...
North - at Moscow's side ...
And in the far North
The North is aligned with our life:
He is faithful - forgotten honor,
he is faithful - an open door ...
He still believes in love!
He is simple ... on the neck ... a cross ...
I walked a long way...
You can see your legs are tired...
heart at night screaming:
be the end, not the beginning...
At the back of hope
we wander, yes, all along the hills,
over potholes, yes, over bumps,
not by day, but by night...
Such a fate is not from evil ...
won't tell, even though he knows...
and the soul, weary in God,
suddenly crying on the threshold ...
Why did it hurt in the chest?
Apparently I didn't finish the song...
and the soul screamed in the night:
not be the end, but ... the beginning!
Birds - south, south
across the Arctic Circle...
The north wind will take you by surprise:
he is their king, he is God...
It's worth closing your eyes,
the station is humming again...
and it is impossible, - even shout out a cry, -
tame the north...
either summer or winter
Or maybe she just went crazy...
Birds - south, south
across the Arctic Circle...
Even in the fragmentation of being
we can live - you and me ...
The space thread is torn:
I want to howl like a wolf...
Be on Earth not a single soul, -
do not deprive the north of the soul ...
And I look out the window - and I can't believe it:
either summer or winter
either the earth is standing, or it is spinning,
Am I crazy myself...
Birds - south, south
across the Arctic Circle...
White snows sweep and sweep:
north is always on duty...
An old friend will dream:
Here comes the circle...
friendship knows no weighty reasons
in the northern melt of the night ...
And I look out the window - and I can't believe it:
either summer or winter
either the earth is standing, or it is spinning,
Are we all crazy...
On a leaf in autumn
I'm flying - completely distracted
and thoughtlessly frank,
like falling in love again...
like a secret keeper
was just extreme today,
yes, and I am some kind of wanderer -
from the worlds of some ... clone ...
I sleep, but I seem to hear something:
as if someone is breathing nearby:
maybe this someone is from above ...
very sweet dream...
Only the wind behind
only my heart aches...
know... I'm getting to know my wife
and again ... in love with her !!!
I will dissolve in the smile of summer
and drown in the blue sea
big silver coin
for the whole huge country!!!
And the waves lick the shadow wearily,
and the sea will sob after me,
as if life stole again
ticket for eternity...
And I will leave ... or I will leave
where you can't rush
where summer can be... on Wednesdays,
but still - a shelter for the soul !!!
We passed ours, and maybe not ours ...
a difficult journey from meeting to parting ...
You assigned a camp number in advance
without fuss - just in case ...
Live... Pray... at least it won't help:
the star and the cross merged in the heat of profit,
and they prefer night to day,
and we live, although we are no longer alive ...
Sad for the past, and the past again
kicks thick dust with boots,
and on the lips - a wax seal,
and the cross still seems to be in the window frame ....
and light pours, but ... it's cold to the soul:
in the words of the leaders - contempt for the people,
and it is heard stubbornly: sew your mouth ...
and a year of life in Russia is two years ...
We die, growing into silence ...
They live in the mode of "rubbing their hands" ...
I went to the world - I came to war ...
And I will not take hope for bail ...
In the riddle of the day, awkward hints ...
I fly without noticing the emptiness ...
They hurry after me, without getting tired, the lines
no dots, dots, commas...
Cutting life with a desperate movement
in an attempt to live without known reasons,
I see only someone's reflection,
who does not speak - is silent ...
But even in silence there is space for a miracle:
fate groans in a desperate jerk ...
and it would, of course, not be bad -
explode at an unexpected line.
And the fingers so wanted to live
in a space of trembling and anxiety
and ... do not value silence,
and be on the threshold of madness,
be afraid, but ... take off and ... down
from the top to fall on the stones,
and disappear into space - a shadow ...
not in the crunch of time - snake -
glide easily, effortlessly,
and ... to climb senselessly on the rampage
in a narrow space, but... bottomless...
Ah, this strange love -
to live in this terrible whirlwind! ..
And the fingers are looking again and again
cure for sudden death...
No one knew the way from home...
and I didn't know... the time has come
walk away on an unfamiliar path
leave... today... not yesterday...
Gone where the road is...
led and ... it doesn’t matter at all,
that I walked with others, I'm out of step,
and not burning with shame ...
There's not around every corner
inevitable emptiness awaits,
but also the desire to fly -
reminder of the cross...
There day and night go hand in hand
and there are no dissatisfied people around ...
and a black and white photograph
silent part of life in the wind ...
Enough in the life of tears and pain,
but eternity in a drop of dew
brings the heart beat to colic,
putting habitually on the scales
two weights - meeting and parting
into the bowls of joys and troubles ...
and extends his hand to me
fate: there is a crumpled ticket in it ...
Good luck here, of course, is not enough:
good luck can be lost...
but I wanted to start
a little more wrong...
I stand under the sun - gloomy and cheerful:
there was no road and ... no ...
but there are melodies for songs ...
I'm... tearing apart my ticket...
How to touch the pain with your hands? ..
How to forget?... Don't forget... and don't...
This pain is like the last fight
where survival is already a reward ...
And our life is like a black hole:
fumble in your pockets for order,
but life will be bitter, not sweet,
because life in Russia is not life, it's a game,
in which you, of course, lost ...
and do not grumble, - because there is a potion - vodka,
and life will be neither long nor short,
but you yourself stole from yourself
the opportunity to be and live ... Almost - fate ...
Love at least ... Maybe this is the power?
After all, my mother forgave this homeland ...
Not a mother - this motherland is weak ...
She is silent and there is a reason for this:
her silence even cuts the ears ...
I will go out into the field to listen to her.
And in the field I hear not grumbling, - a groan ...
The rustiness of autumn conclusions
brings sad thoughts...
Squeeze them out of life
blow out, leaving the numbers,
except for the number thirteen,
and instead of inserting a zero,
to stay happy
forever... without grief, without pain...
But ... life will be insipid
and close with happiness in a knapsack ...
Songs will remain joy
in which neither shaky nor brittle,
no way - to put it directly
your true feelings
which, well, - a whole gamut
and I want some nonsense
and longs for the mystery behind the door
at the junction of silence and ora ...
but ... fit the finds of loss
and there is no end to the debate...
The rustiness of autumn conclusions
brings to mind some thoughts...
I look and do not breathe:
on a flower petal - a tear
hanging, trembling body,
like on a spring
as if ... in between times -
something must fall...
I so want to lie that I'm not cheerful ...
Do not believe: the heart is torn from the chest,
and the world around is incredibly small...
and laughter, alas, does not please, it harms ...
Everyone laughs, but sadness is so lonely,
what seems like silence
and it will be heard from open windows -
merry country gone mad.
You are alone... I am alone...
Fatigue… Life… Desirability of meeting…
And time ... But it does not heal,
it is like old wine:
clouding the head, beckoning
somewhere far away - to friends, to the north ...
but ... even an old friend does not believe
what can meet me...
I'm torn to pieces from resentment
and angry at those who interfere with life ...
I do not believe those who forgive everyone, -
because my heart still hurts,
dilapidated quickly from patches,
and torn, choking in crying,
in the eyes as if the devils are jumping ...
But I am extremely happy with life.
I don't see sadness in your eyes
a... the joy of meeting at the junction of day and night...
The soul is seething and also wants happiness!
So maybe you should start today?
Here she floats - weightless ...
and in her eyes - as if a whirlpool ...
To drown in it at dawn,
to sing songs to her at night ...
So that under the lonely moon,
floating past the windows
braid the marvelous night
and weave words instead of dots...
Lips whisper… what?.. I don’t hear…
I see - the air is wrinkled slowly ...
somehow sluggishly, inconsolably -
like life is no longer breathing...
Just past the mannequin
on his shoulder
drags life, and pulls veins
those who hid behind the walls ...
Only lips whisper incessantly:
live with mine - it will help ...
Let me live, my God!
I will live - even clenching my teeth ...
Well, I don’t write today:
thoughts, like chicks, are free,
gaze thoughtlessly screwed into the sky
sharp corkscrew of spring.
I'm a little strange myself:
change sadness to sadness ...
The night is almost on the verge, -
tea helps...
At stake is the madness of the night ...
Sweet frenzied impulse...
Crowds of incomprehensible lines
in the circle of a closed game -
drive blood towards fate,
closing the circle effortlessly...
Parts of the body, parts of speech -
all on a ghost horse...
A trickle of time almost
disappears: memory is torn,
leaving eternity with us
and dichotomy in the night...
And the light will shine through the window
and... warm palms will pierce...
The wind drives life in a circle:
here, and I'm with her at the same time.
How unsullied I am...
to myself ... moderately vulnerable,
although I know that - no match
for those who remember...
I'm waiting ... desperately, anxiously -
more madness on the fly,
but ... I feel - even subcutaneously -
involvement in the yellow leaf,
who slowly, naively
swinging in the wind
under the gaze, maybe nasty,
into a game,
into empty space
trying to signal an SOS,
shakes the time of wandering ...
into which it took me
my old friend is an opponent of the dispute
about what gnaws from the inside ...
Know that time is not a support at all
for those who love being locked up
sit and wait ... I'll die of boredom
in the space of fidelity to the mind...
Friends hold out their hands
but for me ... it’s more pleasant ... alone ...
The night howled in the chimney,
the wind brought to my knees
autumn rain - neurasthenic
shed tears over the whole country ...
and the silence rang
lost souls in it,
so as not to disturb my dream,
flew out the window...
To fall asleep ... Rare luck
keep peace of mind...
Soul and at home, as in the country,
where the sounds are flour for the ears ...
where silence is thin
has always been ... and every breath
so strains the membranes
ear ... It's scary - God sees ...
I'm in an acoustic trap
I've been living for a year
at the Muse-killer at gunpoint,
regardless of life...
To fall asleep ... Rare luck
keep peace of mind...
What am I going to spend my life on?
not for tired ears...
Why do I need golden autumn
when in the swamp silence
Russia does not want to hear
that I am again, as in a war ...
What messed up freedom
for the sake of fat "pervachas" ...
and I feel like a freak
here are the lines...
And, scratching the soul,
I'll shut up again for the umpteenth time...
not to disturb the balance
sad and happy eyes...
The thread of fate does not break
but... continued... invisible:
and the outlines are rough,
and the dates fly by...
But the cold evening outside the window
not the end of anxiety...
Everything will be, only ... upside down ...
torn intercloud…
the wind blows cheeks,
coldness - hoop throat ...
And weary in whirling
lonely leaf
feeling of failure
life is weighty, but... empty...
I'll rustle, slowly ripening,
kicking dirt with his heels...
In the head - like a shot:
life goes on and ... good luck!
When trouble descends on the Motherland, -
our frozen souls will freeze:
and so you want to quietly betray ...
and their souls and not to hear, and not to listen ...
And the sounding silence will cover the earth,
as in the predawn the dream inexorably suffocates,
and I will not see from my window,
that my devoted souls fly away
into the abyss of black from the loss of emptiness,
so far away! - cannot be put into words...
And stay together just me and you...
and - meanness, sweetened with verses ...
Winter steals inspiration...
empty words in the wind
like someone's pathetic skill
always assent to the pen ...
I am silent more and more ... For good luck
he doesn’t drink ... the house is sadly red ...
That look - I'll cry again
I am in unison with a drop of roofs ...
So you can suddenly suffocate
from emptiness and words and sounds,
from unsuccessful attempts
shake hands again...
when your best friend leaves...
For some, the north is like in the bosom,
and to me - grumbling, but ... tartly thick ...
Nobody believes that labukh has
so much - and love, and feelings ....
Unexpected response to a question
leaves a trace of confusion in the eyes ...
There, ahead, at the end of the road ... graveyard
and... the wind that doesn't matter...
Everything was ... there is no way back ...
Forgive me for my life in the name of life ...
And a sinful tear will sink into fiction,
and the sky will sprinkle the earth with a warm sun ...
There is not so much sun in the North ...
But ... the sky is lower - closer to God ...
On the cold sand of the universe
in a torn cloud the distance is glimmering...
and the soul clothed with tribute,
invariably shakes sadness ...
And in the distance - weightlessly comfortable
in the cradle of night and day
I lie like a dissolute appendage,
I don't blame anyone or anything...
I'll start grumbling... Delights on the side...
The cold evening is personally ghostly ...
As if the cloud is late
Accidentally gray, said to me personally:
Don't wait for love, it will come by itself...
Deserted night and its role is changeable...
Love is always - not grief from the mind ...
She will come ... But ... now, will she heal?
I am not free to live carelessly.
I wanted to, because I don’t know,
that life is still finite
good and not bad...
Do not google ... The meaning of the answer is harmful ...
The essence will not flash naively
into the blind slit of light,
piercing through the chest
and disturbed by the sound,
it will rain from heaven
not loud and not monotonous,
bearing a cross in itself,
and, scratching the soul,
plunges unexpectedly into the heart of pain ...
Do not google .. Just listen to the soul ...
She will talk to you.
I will not run to the call of fate -
joints have been hurting for a long time:
hand lazily and tired
wave, although ... I can still.
About the north it is impossible with coolness ...
Warmth intelligently hides under the snow
and the cold wind blows into the sky,
and we don't even have to try
live in your coldness without a thought,
that the sun is not with us, but somewhere,
where it's not winter, but always summer
hangs like a blanket in the high sky
and shelters from bad weather:
from wind, snow and blizzards…
And in our souls ... happiness froze!
Is that what you wanted?...
It's warm inside today...
yesterday it was cold...
Don't forget to love, old man, -
in spite of the threat
live with a curtained window
and with a web ...
Let it be dark outside the window
and breaks back...
But it will dawn ... warmed with warmth, -
I'll start over...
Where there is love, there is no death,
There is a way to the pier...
Guarding my memory desperately
From an awkward touch
From confused grumbling...
From an accidental stupefaction...
I guard my memory tirelessly
From resentment for eternity of doubt ...
An uncomfortable bed is Procrustean:
He does not like my revelations so much ...
Only the snow in the spring will suddenly cry
reflection in the window - no longer a boy ...
Everything passes, alas, everything passes ...
Here is the life length at the end:
centimeters ... rather - millimeters ...
days are blown away by dissolute winds ...
but ... clouds are flying in the sky
endlessly enthusiastic song!
Ah, those stars on white
snow ... words are lost ...
and someone whispers somewhere to the left:
yes, night, you, as always, are right ...
I'm flying into the unknown...
Didn't expect? .. Heard in the distance:
we have not missed life with you ...
But, probably ... they could ...
Carelessness belatedly lonely
and ... believes in the infallibility of being,
and waiting for something, maybe - the source,
but there is no source - only you and me,
who thoughtlessly frankly,
desperately not believing in a trap,
everything is destroyed, as walls are broken ...
and ... prefer night to day ...
As the sun hatched loudly
and suddenly sparkled in the wind,
as our eternal beginning,
gliding on thin snow
and drawing boldly
dark streaks on white,
and, on the fly loosening snowflakes,
it burned softly
like everything in the North - without falsehood,
without hypocrisy, without deceit...
With its filigree work
Overtaken by hardened life...
the vanity of the roads is forgotten...
and the track is already broken,
and the native threshold is chipped,
and a shadow spread out torn,
and ringing in the ears, and emptiness -
there is not the slightest flaw in it,
and eternity - cold and thick ...
Not cold water...
even warm
if grief and trouble
did not drown...
I'll look into my eyes -
isn't double...
even if the way back
and I don't dream...
And in the spring polynya
reflection -
world in an unexpected war
and insight...
I didn’t want to, but ... it just escaped,
entertaining tired copper ...
wanted, not following GOSTs,
after waiting, express, maybe sing ...
and say, and ask, and believe,
and forget, and miss for a reason,
and love is virtually measured,
and understand - life is extremely dense ...
I will never believe... Farewell
I remember with a taste of the meeting ...
Even strange just silence
our souls resignedly heals ...
I won't go in... I'll retreat on the threshold...
I look back ... There is no separation in sight ...
And behind the door ... the bottomlessness of the road ...
That road will not blow anyone ...
The modest ranks are thinning
friends, near and far...
How our meetings ... one-sided -
on the verge of pain and misfortune...
How strange things are forever...
How strange is the light in the corner of the closet...
How annoying is the hill of ashes ...
How life crushes the bit...
And the snow keeps falling... Spring
delight expands the essence of space ...
There is still constancy in life!
Life in the world, like death, is red!
Nightlessness is almost gone...
No thoughts, no people, no sounds...
and the air is a little bitter,
and inspiration looks beech ...
Moon in the window and in silence
spring is dripping sweetly...
And I don't have anyone to drink with...
at least tea ... Gloomy ... cold ...
Random joyful impulse -
jump up and... on a piece of paper
start a feast of the game
funny words ... Like Braga -
boil in a desperate struggle
ridiculous phrases, or maybe chips ...
be your own adversary
and another, if someone from above
will throw the news out the window:
there is no nightlessness - there is midnight ...
To live even at night is destined
in verse ... and even - between the lines ...
More often - anxiety ... Slightly -
carelessness and laziness...
Muddy on the wall of the screen
brings us all to our knees...
Ties are broken for centuries
fleeting... Only lie to us
everything is just a little...
at night... But... the morning will come...
And rub your eyes, come on -
it's not like that... don't expect mercy...
You will be almost shameless
but... with some reward...
Anxiety is your lot...
I wanted a new life...
Who tryndel about conscience?...
Be silent... again and again...
The wind takes away the pain...
But it still hurts...
It hurts… Always be ready
heart - albeit involuntarily ...
And if the pain suddenly
the taste of misfortune is so bitter, -
draw your circle with chalk
around… You will see in the alignment
life ... and walk straight -
the road is long. If
the dead have no shame,
the living do not die of pain.
Pour, brother, emotions into my glass -
I'll drink and... in the morning I'll open my soul...
And there - vices ... I would not live,
but I can't break this habit.
Close your eyes and listen to the silence?...
I'm sorry, but - no, do not stuff it into a vest
peace on earth and ... fat war,
in which it is rare to survive ...
Successfully hide?... Behind whose back?...
I will keep quiet ... I cry for everything that is not forever ...
There is meanness between peace and war...
Who are you and me - people ... people? ...
Someone's life inside is bubbling...
Whose - I don’t know ... but mine
silent during the day, but in the middle of the night
searching for the meaning of life...
Searching, searching... can't find
and ... silent again in the morning -
as if in opposition
only ringing and motley...
Everything is both casual and simple:
life goes on and I'm in time with it -
bubbling, silent ... With a churchyard
I will finish ... Here, - something like this ...
Skewed time... Malice...
Slobbering mouth... Freedom in the dust
lost - try to find ...
And Russia is a ship aground...
But who could see him?
We are on the very, on the very bottom -
where God does not help...
Everything happens openly and ... harmfully ...
Blind shrapnel cuts through the chest ...
Bell only - and honest, and copper -
everyone puts an overcoat on me ...
Don't call... It's fitting to live by honor...
I don't expect a shot in the back today...
Only love saved our lives...
only love averted trouble ...
Everything melted into chaos
and deeds, and thoughts ... How godlessly
we are all careful in life,
not thinking about the cross...
unable to see the lies
from foolishness and falsehood,
squeezing your last penny...
We are silent ... And I am silent - to shame,
screaming inside... To whom?... To myself...
How contemptuously gentle I am with myself ...
but, like a ball, - someone blown away ...
Naivety with meanness and lies
live in me without regret...
The soul is silent, but ... I feel a burning sensation
in it... Maybe for something...
Out of the mode:
the window was open...
Here, now we lie -
forgotten by that regime ...
After all, to be faithful to the regime -
The door is open of course...
only... it's hard to be the first
I wanted to live ... Probably - strange? ...
because we are Russia, not countries,
in which ... only bird flu ...
And we are excited and ... about the war ...
Forgotten, or what, - a funeral? ...
And I myself again quietly:
I wanted to live ... to live - or rather ...
I'm in the bitter traffic of the country
I don't even see the light
we are detached from ourselves
and our souls are not warmed ...
Well, who steps on the corn
war?... The smoke is bitter and malevolent...
Don't prepare your soul for death...
Live - at least for the sake of life! ...
There is silence somewhere...
Love accidentally forgotten...
Mind knows war...
Hope buried deep...
And I'm flying alone again
in the space of unconditional faith...
Ready! And I'll pay first
for everything... Let there be peace forever...
In the words of answers to questions
I can't find it... There's a fire inside...
And under the feet of thoughts is a scattering ...
Not smoke from meaning - pure steam ...
Hot steam... from tension
from irritation ... Two ways -
into oblivion and... rejection...
I can't find any other way...
There is a ball ... the size is immense ...
There is me and ... we are a product of our era ...
I would like to go back, of course.
but things aren't that bad after all...
In the empty I don’t even see a reflection…
I want to see, but... colors are fading...
In the eyes reddens the meaning of the sun
and the day dies - for something someone's libel ...
I am silent ... And what to talk without measure? ...
Chat all and sundry ... From now on
I will silently observe the sphere
his love... And the ball?... It won't get cold.
Live shamelessly and zealously...
store envy, fornication and lies...
How good it is to be always drunk
among shamelessly lying births...
Damned pendulum from now on
didn't know it was backwards
he will surely move time,
squeezing the year to the day ...
And tomorrow there will be silence
all over the Earth... On duty
the soul will cry at the window
quietly, nocturnally...
And there will be nothing to say
come back - answer yourself ...
and a tear creeps down the cheek:
she is alone in the world...
And in silence get tired of waiting
me my anxiety...
God forbid - start again from scratch -
walk your path...
Summer is coming to an end soon...
arguing about this and that...
and the gondola will shudder from female laughter,
and the sound of the shard will echo ...
On the lunar path - short and bright -
two young heads, although ... overdone ...
will pass, - invariably repeating about sunsets ...
they are inconspicuous, compressed to the crust ...
They do not leave - others leave ...
in their subtle nature all sounds are… deaf…
They are not tired of this ringing ...
but the sounds of sadness are by no means out of the zone ...
Although minor notes are asking for ears,
their ringing souls so ask for a flight ...
Fly, fly ... You will be met in the fog
our eternal forgiver... and he will not deceive...
I am with an uncombed soul
I'm at a crossroads again...
To the right, God ... seem to be the eldest ...
To the left - hell ... And straight ahead ... - Putin ...
Sparsely... Rusty water
flowing from the faucet volatilno ...
I don't burn with shame...
but it goes up in the throat...
Beginning to be... But where is the essence?...
The grumbling burns inexorably...
There is no road - it is a little bit ...
and all words, all feelings - past ...
Everything dissolves into lies...
It's not good to be tired in love...
How to live this life in a lie?
How this life in life is not enough ...
Someday I'll turn around and... well -
put a smile on my lips...
No - just run through the skin
trembling ... We fly at full speed
somewhere fun and inconsolable,
spitting on conscience, mind and honor ...
Always taught: you can be a sinner,
if there is something behind the soul ...
But there is not something - there is a country and people ...
but... to live at the level of love
we can't get away with it ... We won't lose it -
not live, but howl under-joy-on-blood...
I stand again on the river bank -
under the sound of rain, with the hope of good luck ...
Where did our wits go?
who were given the will to surrender? ...
Let's explode into a thousand planets
let's fly over this cluttered life ...
Let everyone who made a vow scream -
do not leave the herd trough ...
And we are in the fire of melted ice
we will not exchange a meeting for goodbye ...
Let them die of our shame
I don't believe in my promises...
And there will be life - in the arms of silence,
on a sheet of dawn fog ...
Well, in the meantime, we are all sinners with you -
with a candle, but - in the smoke of self-deception ...
I want to be quiet...
Will there ever be morning?
Can I hear myself...
No, do not even understand in the night -
who and who needs...
The night won't tell anyone
what awaits us outside...
Strangeness is inevitable here -
It doesn't seem to be like in real life.
space is always careless,
the sun does not shine through the window ...
Empty and cold ... Light
Everything, as always, is strange ...
On someone's soft shoulder
I bow my head wearily
without thinking about anything
whether old or new...
And will believe in the night -
trouble is on the way...
Yes, only darling grumbles:
it’s like she doesn’t have enough urine ...
Friends leave - there are reasons:
they are tired, I am tired...
Strong men go
still from those past beginnings ...
Soul hurts! Don't laugh, brothers.
Being apart from yourself
wallow at the feet of eternity,
forever offended by fate,
and live under the memory of a cudgel
with honest eyes...
Strong men leave.
But will we be?...
I'll start over - tear the veins and suffer
from faith in the prosperity of the country ...
America, Europe are not fellow travelers ...
We are true to Asian roots...
We do not study ... and no teachings
we do not believe ... Only - the Russian World ...
in the fourth, fifth and... sixth reading...
Already read, apparently - to the holes ...
Don't bother me from now on
I surrender life in a circle:
let my life be elastic
and the soul will never take out
The one behind which the word is torn,
groaning and writhing in pain...
It's worth living even with this pain -
laughing and crying - again, again ...
Don't bother me now...
A moment will fit in a hundred years.
Let me flash by an invisible shadow...
He won't take the soul out of me...
To someone in the strangeness of the earth
can't sleep now... Tear the soles...
In the hands - responsibly steel -
only the rosary helps them...
They wonder ... There are no miracles for a long time ...
There are people who believe in miracles...
The country has long been inhabited by a demon,
or maybe not a demon - Judas ...
And I'm chronically led
inexorable curse:
until, alas, thunder strikes, -
I am always ready to forgive in everything
your sick country...
though her steps are shameful...
I do not agree to the war -
it was, it was, it was...
And he breathes down my neck -
my ancestor with his love...
And I am my last patron
I will not succumb to empty talk ...
Don't go far
may not come back...
Not going back is easy
harder to wake up
inconsolable and sick,
nervous and forgotten
on the brink of a big war,
maybe even the beaten ones...
and lie - in the eyes of no zgi
see no offspring
and there are only enemies around:
it makes little sense...
Clever - hard in Russia ...
Umnikov - in bulk ...
There is no time in the world - there are things to do,
the affairs of the people responsible for the cause,
simple and mortals whom she called
somewhere life and along the way all sang
about miracles, about idleness... about lies,
about the truth, selfless, but timid,
that the main thing is not to live life,
and it's easy to die ... that's the thing ...
And time? ... Who knew what was there,
where he is not, as there is nothing in the world,
life will disappear with death in half ...
But someone will still answer for everything ...
No, all is not lost...
A little bit of life is measured ...
But this is life! Checked -
long way, short way...
albeit short, but ... with a shot ...
We stand and we don't fall...
And if we fall, - with a spark -
even in the pouring rain...
Unexpectedness is so strangely fair
what you want more forever
hope for the subtleties of impulses,
which consequences...
The meaning of the all-seeing eye is extended ...
You can believe ... But where is it? ...
And I'm always so lonely
although a window to this world is open.
Everything in this world is so colorful
that only ripples in the eyes and silence ...
Unexpectedness, in fact, is imperceptible,
but ... so in life every day you need ...
Sleepless night.... Cardboard house...
be in a belatedly weird coma...
there is a sense - to yell: come on, with an initiative ...
come on - grumble, scream, rage ...
live - unexpectedly and ... drunkenly ...
live - cloudless, but ... clean ...
live - love for all worthy ...
Well, what can I do for my Russia?...
Me today in the social. networks asked...
And you make your nest in Russia ...
Russia knows how to carefully keep silent ...
And in silence you will always hear the soul,
who cannot help but forgive.
Dying is easy, of course.
took out the soul and ... skiff ...
But the soul will ask for a toast ...
There is no toast - there are only bitches,
on which life is hung,
on which - full of life ...
He hangs - shameful and sinful ...
Only mom is all worried -
there is no one to warm the soul ...
There is no death - there is the edge of the road ...
On the edge - both life and death ...
Look what a miracle it is -
rain and snow and clouds in the sky ...
Be happy! And what? ... I will -
a bit drenched in life...
Be it rain or snow...
let nature be a complete mess ...
let Onego grumble and hunch
both in winter and in summer ... What's wrong? ...
Everything is as before, only lonely
Green light given today...
Lonely issued binoculars,
to see - there are no barriers
between people. Hand - in hand ... Centenary
new will appreciate on business ...
Do not wander alone through hard times -
there is no reason to huddle in the corners.
The window... It keeps looking into the distance...
He does not feel sorry for the broken glass,
in which someone's reflections
were of prime importance...
And to virtue, to vice
hardly had an opinion
window... It forgives shame...
does not remember insults ... How much was
innocent phrases are more painful than actions -
especially, of course, in childhood -
when words hit your head...
and you, like a bullet, are pierced ...
Window ... Openness for show -
for the eyes of strangers and maybe even -
for those who hide the curse in them,
considering it a treat
in the heat of an unthinkable sale
souls ... be a simpleton for an hour ...
Window ... Someone in silence,
to whom - in bedlam ... but there is no reason
to live in the absence of law…
Life will even spin it all,
congratulating you on such an initiative
and laying the blame on you...
Corroded pipes somewhere...
Yes, not somewhere, but ... the other day -
sovereignty hole
our senior pest saw ...
He's intricate and bold
lied without feeling sin,
like a plumber - in a skillful mat -
drinking vodka instead of tea...
Walking along the braces
and feeling faith in it,
he pipe to Europe firmly
brewed ... like Peter is not the First ...
Yes... not the First, but... empty...
He alone is important in those braces...
We are marching as one...
There is nothing BUILDING uglier ...
And outside the window again people are clamoring:
probably not enough money...
And who will make him live without money,
after all, he is still a people - not a rabble ...
There is no thought of something terrible in the morning,
but ... if anything, - the pitchfork did not rust:
thorn in the eye - looted villas ...
and without them - it is unthinkable good ...
My heart is on fire and I can't bear it...
And God will forgive - probably out of habit ...
For us, He was…is…will be like a master key…
And to us: you can’t ... don’t come near ... don’t touch ...
To choke - the soul, but I won’t let it into the soul ...
Crosses on the necks are pulled with shackles ...
A flame is about to ignite from a spark -
I won't forgive you much...
Memory is a person...
but ... and not dead - still alive ...
Living among the dead is inevitably bad...
Let the memory flow in me a river ...
It flows, and I swim - in the wilderness,
as if, but ... the sun shines
and next to people just, not judges,
and memory - at least condemn, but ... forgive ...
Cover yourself with a light blanket
and ... to believe in this wonderful dream:
the ignorance is gone...
no one will put a piston in you...
and you're lying on the couch...
and no confusion...
The question is always rather strange:
Are you a hereditary Hindu? ...
I'm not a Hindu - I'm from Russia...
I wait and believe - everything will pass ...
and I know to forgive her
I can do everything that ... on the contrary ...
Do not yell - you can not help yourself ...
Slippery - with mutilation in harmony,
and the soul, as if it had caught a cold,
although a cold is not a great disease ...
Beware of autumn bad weather -
drafts mastered the yards ...
Maybe we are hostages of nature?
Maybe we're in the game
on Earth?... And maybe judges?...
But - who to judge? ... - The temptation is great
breathe life, as people inhale everything,
just suffocate I'm much...
Outside the window is so strangely uncomfortable -
cold wind, sleet with laziness ...
Only life is still passing ...
yes, and that one - with some cunning ...
When the finishing touches
in unison my world will be set up,
I will not: write poetry,
count your sins...
but just this world... close...
To live - to live, probably
parting word - of course ...
Although I live on my nerves
More precisely - not safe ...
I live inseparably
from sadness and anxiety
from personal pressure,
from the oddities of the road...
from eternity squared,
from weakness in the knees,
from indefatigable brothers,
from endless laziness
from stupidity, sometimes
from bad habits
from the semantic cut,
from inevitable skirmishes,
from the difference of judgments,
from bitterness in separation,
from the pain of regret,
from unaccustomed boredom...
To live - to live! - beautiful
idea, but... latently
i know i'm unhappy
then I will forever...
Talking to life - an expert
does not mean anything, believe me ...
Do you want to live? ... Live inertly,
otherwise - spin, wrap ...
You can't get through
to the very, very end...
Is it necessary? ... Maybe it's worth it ...
Maybe hell will be heaven...
maybe fear is not a hindrance
survive the pain...
the pain will be a strange milestone
in this unshakable lot...
So small, small forever...
slightly clamped - as if in a trap ...
You won't be able to catch up - it will be fleeting ...
and if you can, how do you know...
So small, like a thin ray -
flashes and perishes - silence again:
nothing presses so on the membranes,
like a heavy wall of silence...
Such a small ... I believe - it will be there ...
and will live silently and warmly,
and I will become for a while ... a happy fall ...
and also small - big in spite ...
The meaning of an impossible life crumbles
to infinitely tiny crumbs...
You hear aahs, and maybe oohs ...
only our trough does not expand ...
Champing angers, and fatigue is immense
pulls to the bottom of the impossibility to survive...
It can be seen that I will remain forever red,
skinny and poor, but... proud of the faithful.
No, I can never kneel
fall and thrash in insane ecstasy...
Let this life tease with immortality,
I... will disappear from obsessive laziness...
October - by status skillfully -
talking about my soul...
I remember - autumn sang a song,
and the song always invigorates ...
and I'm in the corner of mediocre flattery
I sing her a song to the beat too,
she is my constant cross
Lie down and listen?.. - Impeccable
I also sing everything about the eternal,
though not old yet...
I'm not lying, but ... the chill of discoveries
grouchy, but faithful ... No reason
howl to her uncompromisingly honestly
about despair in the night...
The day is leaving and the cool
night carefully narrows the walls,
for which you have to live
but I don’t want to, because it’s harmful to live there ...
Behind the door, the past grumbles, whimpers ...
And I'm glad for him, sort of, but ... somehow
not really, or something ... It's not nearby - on a chair,
and somewhere far away - a fait accompli ...
I'm sad... and shut up
all the cracks, and waiting latently
bringing to an end
from inside your foul
of life ... Rain beats on the roof
crazy obscene...
I haven't come out yet
from the mind ... From there it is slender
in formidable rows, measuredly
minting step, in the mouth of distemper -
millions of power faithful
looking for something in the muddy waters...
What?... Yes, if you knew, buddy...
I'd dig up the house...
Only the winds of malice roar
on Earth... quite out of place...
I'm not a fellow traveler ... on the shoulders
all my curses hang down
my country... Alas and ah...
And where, where is this happiness?
Where is happiness? ... God, - forever
my tiredness and anxiety...
I wanted happiness on the run
lift at least at the end of the road ...
But happiness is hidden in the dust
keeping the oblivion of a rarity ...
We did not save happiness ...
There is no point in living without happiness...
I do not remember the nastiness and pain
In two hundred thousand years I...
I don’t remember the hardships of the vale ...
And who will remember them?... They don't exist...
We are from carelessness and laziness,
we are on par with the hot sun
we lie and we do not need a shadow ...
we are all from strange poor fellows,
who still love life
which windiness is not a lie ...
who do not need glory,
who - good or bad ...
which fictions seem to
worse than ever,
which should not be sour ...
and if sour, then ... in juice ...
I don’t remember ... confused by eternity ...
I'm flying across the sky - blue and white ...
always, at any time of the day -
I wanted to follow my life...
I am a torn leaf
calendar - no answer
to the question: what about the planet? ...
And the answer is between the lines...
Between the lines - such a lesson
me and everyone - who is guilty of what ...
Only the sun will not cool down,
whoever's fault is...
culture art literature poetry poetry poems poems, poetry
A point is an abstract object that has no measuring characteristics: no height, no length, no radius. Within the framework of the task, only its location is important
The point is indicated by a number or a capital (large) Latin letter. Several dots - different numbers or different letters so that they can be distinguished
point A, point B, point C
A B Cpoint 1, point 2, point 3
1 2 3You can draw three "A" points on a piece of paper and invite the child to draw a line through the two "A" points. But how to understand through which? A A A
A line is a set of points. She only measures length. It has no width or thickness.
Indicated by lowercase (small) Latin letters
line a, line b, line c
a b cThe line could be
- closed if its beginning and end are at the same point,
- open if its beginning and end are not connected
closed lines
open lines
You left the apartment, bought bread in the store and returned back to the apartment. What line did you get? That's right, closed. You have returned to the starting point. You left the apartment, bought bread in the store, went into the entrance and talked to your neighbor. What line did you get? Open. You have not returned to the starting point. You left the apartment, bought bread in the store. What line did you get? Open. You have not returned to the starting point.- self-intersecting
- without self-intersections
self-intersecting lines
lines without self-intersections
- straight
- broken line
- crooked
straight lines
broken lines
curved lines
A straight line is a line that does not curve, has neither beginning nor end, it can be extended indefinitely in both directions
Even when a small section of a straight line is visible, it is assumed that it continues indefinitely in both directions.
It is denoted by a lowercase (small) Latin letter. Or two capital (large) Latin letters - points lying on a straight line
straight line a
astraight line AB
B Astraight lines can be
- intersecting if they have a common point. Two lines can only intersect at one point.
- perpendicular if they intersect at a right angle (90°).
- parallel, if they do not intersect, they do not have a common point.
parallel lines
intersecting lines
perpendicular lines
A ray is a part of a straight line that has a beginning but no end, it can be extended indefinitely in only one direction
The starting point for the beam of light in the picture is the sun.
sun
The point divides the line into two parts - two rays A A
The beam is indicated by a lowercase (small) Latin letter. Or two capital (large) Latin letters, where the first is the point from which the ray begins, and the second is the point lying on the ray
beam a
abeam AB
B AThe beams match if
- located on the same straight line
- start at one point
- directed to one side
rays AB and AC coincide
rays CB and CA coincide
C B AA segment is a part of a straight line that is bounded by two points, that is, it has both a beginning and an end, which means that its length can be measured. The length of a segment is the distance between its start and end points.
Any number of lines can be drawn through one point, including straight lines.
Through two points - unlimited number of curves, but only one straight line
curved lines passing through two points
B Astraight line AB
B AA piece was “cut off” from the straight line and a segment remained. From the example above, you can see that its length is the shortest distance between two points. ✂ B A ✂
A segment is denoted by two capital (large) Latin letters, where the first is the point from which the segment begins, and the second is the point from which the segment ends
segment AB
B ATask: where is the line, ray, segment, curve?
A broken line is a line consisting of successively connected segments not at an angle of 180°
A long segment was “broken” into several short ones.
The links of a polyline (similar to the links of a chain) are the segments that make up the polyline. Adjacent links are links in which the end of one link is the beginning of another. Adjacent links should not lie on the same straight line.
The tops of the polyline (similar to the tops of mountains) are the point from which the polyline begins, the points at which the segments forming the polyline are connected, the point where the polyline ends.
A polyline is denoted by listing all its vertices.
broken line ABCDE
vertex of polyline A, vertex of polyline B, vertex of polyline C, vertex of polyline D, vertex of polyline E
link of broken line AB, link of broken line BC, link of broken line CD, link of broken line DE
link AB and link BC are adjacent
link BC and link CD are adjacent
link CD and link DE are adjacent
A B C D E 64 62 127 52The length of a polyline is the sum of the lengths of its links: ABCDE = AB + BC + CD + DE = 64 + 62 + 127 + 52 = 305
Task: which broken line is longer, a which one has more peaks? At the first line, all the links are of the same length, namely 13 cm. The second line has all the links of the same length, namely 49 cm. The third line has all the links of the same length, namely 41 cm.
A polygon is a closed polyline
The sides of the polygon (they will help you remember the expressions: "go to all four sides", "run towards the house", "which side of the table will you sit on?") are the links of the broken line. Adjacent sides of a polygon are adjacent links of a broken line.
The vertices of the polygon are the vertices of the polyline. Neighboring vertices are endpoints of one side of the polygon.
A polygon is denoted by listing all its vertices.
closed polyline without self-intersection, ABCDEF
polygon ABCDEF
polygon vertex A, polygon vertex B, polygon vertex C, polygon vertex D, polygon vertex E, polygon vertex F
vertex A and vertex B are adjacent
vertex B and vertex C are adjacent
vertex C and vertex D are adjacent
vertex D and vertex E are adjacent
vertex E and vertex F are adjacent
vertex F and vertex A are adjacent
polygon side AB, polygon side BC, polygon side CD, polygon side DE, polygon side EF
side AB and side BC are adjacent
side BC and side CD are adjacent
side CD and side DE are adjacent
side DE and side EF are adjacent
side EF and side FA are adjacent
A B C D E F 120 60 58 122 98 141The perimeter of a polygon is the length of the polyline: P = AB + BC + CD + DE + EF + FA = 120 + 60 + 58 + 122 + 98 + 141 = 599
A polygon with three vertices is called a triangle, with four - a quadrilateral, with five - a pentagon, and so on.
Point and line are the main geometric figures on the plane.
The ancient Greek scientist Euclid said: “a point” is that which has no parts.” The word "point" in Latin means the result of an instant touch, a prick. The point is the basis for constructing any geometric figure.
A straight line or just a straight line is a line along which the distance between two points is the shortest. A straight line is infinite, and it is impossible to depict the entire line and measure it.
Points are denoted by capital Latin letters A, B, C, D, E, etc., and straight lines by the same letters, but lowercase a, b, c, d, e, etc. A straight line can also be denoted by two letters corresponding to points lying on her. For example, the line a can be denoted by AB.
We can say that the points AB lie on the line a or belong to the line a. And we can say that the line a passes through the points A and B.
The simplest geometric figures on a plane are a segment, a ray, a broken line.
A segment is a part of a line, which consists of all points of this line, bounded by two selected points. These points are the ends of the segment. A segment is indicated by indicating its ends.
A ray or half-line is a part of a line, which consists of all points of this line, lying on one side of its given point. This point is called the starting point of the half-line or the beginning of the ray. A ray has a start point but no end point.
Half-lines or rays are denoted by two lowercase Latin letters: the initial and any other letter corresponding to a point belonging to the half-line. In this case, the starting point is placed in the first place.
It turns out that the line is infinite: it has neither beginning nor end; a ray has only a beginning but no end, while a segment has a beginning and an end. Therefore, we can only measure a segment.
Several segments that are connected in series with each other so that the segments (adjacent) having one common point are not located on the same straight line represent a broken line.
The polyline can be closed or open. If the end of the last segment coincides with the beginning of the first, we have a closed broken line, if not, an open one.
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Ray- is the part of a straight line, located on one side of any point lying on this straight line. The beam is also called semidirect.
Any ray has a beginning and a direction. Beam start, starting point or beam top is the point from which the ray originates. Thus, the beam has a beginning, but no end.
Consider three rays with a common origin:
All 3 beams have a common starting point O but in different directions. About each of them we can say: a ray comes from a point O or a ray emanating from a point O .
Additional beams
Any point lying on a straight line divides this straight line into two half-lines, that is, into two parts. Each of these parts will be called an additional beam relative to the second beam:
Additional beams- These are rays that have a common origin, opposite directions and lie on the same straight line. You can also say that rays are called additional, complementing each other to a straight line.
Beam designation
The beam is denoted by one lowercase Latin letter:
Ray h.
Also, a ray can be denoted by two points lying on it:
When designating a ray with two points, the letter indicating the beginning of the ray is put in the first place, and the letter denoting any other point of it is placed in the second place: ray BC.
Let's look at the following example:
Ray with origin at a point A can be designated as AB or AC.