A Journal of Contemporary Arts 










The War will soon be here! –
I can hardly breathe
onto the Dust’s pillow.
The seeds of the Lie
Continue their atomic explosions.
The country of poverty,
Choking with memory’s unholy blight
once again,
Prays to learn
When the abscess will be
cut to pieces.

The War will soon be here! –
Perversions do blind by Naivety.
It’s not possible to swaddle
The revivals with the follies of bliss.
It’s not possible to disperse
The infinite ball of meanings
with the blitzkrieg.
The War will soon be here! –
She’s the collapse
of honour and suffering...
There’s a foray of new nobodies...


Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2012/01/13/2482
Youtube declamation:
Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess




The night is vicious-day comes.
When you looked back,
And did not see those
You loved and waited for.
A step of uselessness
Over which I almost stumbled
To find something within myself
That I did not give away.
The answer -- a mocking laughter,
And an endless list of debts
That I did not have either time
Or desire to pay.
Like an elusive success that is close,
It has come not to indulge in
But to revenge with a victim.
And once again,
I will wake up not the one
Who was so eagerly awaited.
The sleepless ceiling
Will offer the right tone.
From the songs -- chrysanthemums,
I will weave a carpet of sadness,
And will merrily forgive,
Making it to the chariot.

       "Chariot" (English translation by Larissa Kulinich)
         Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2017/12/28/2551
        Youtube declamation:
           Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess



We are waiting, waiting naively.
For what, we do not know.
And we post on the internet
Unfinished and unrhymed songs.

A thought cherishes a hope.
Someone does understand.
We are waiting for the heights in the future,
And not an empty game.

Once again, rose-tinted glasses
Lead to the return
Of insensitive fetters.
Not to love, but to decay.
We are waiting for the pain to go away,
For the missing ones to return.

But time will not slip away.
It will get intertwined with a dream.
We expect that the wrong ones will not give birth.
That uselessness will not catch up with us.
That boastful blindness
Will not be thanked.

We are waiting for war
That is followed by peace.
And parting is followed by meeting,
Revenge, like an elixir, will soothe the wounds
with boredom.

The innocent will not be punished
Instead of murderers.
And victorious holidays
Will not smell of formalin.
There are no madmen.

Life is given more than once.
The ticket was fake all along.
We will be destined not to win.
And yet we are waiting naively.

     "Naive Waiting" (English translation by Larissa Kulinich)
      Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2018/05/12/4125
      Youtube declamation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3iguVs5ehs
Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess



White quantum snow fields
Of loneliness
Fly away into the past,
Without leaving a trace of sincerity
Behind the windows.

Orphaned emotions,
Like songs not sung out loud,
Melt in the icy rain of tenderness,
Of the outspokenness on the wires,
Of useless irrelevant ties,
Yearning to not despair.

Strings of flamenco-brokenness,
To the accompaniment of clapping,
By fate laughing at itself
That was not played to the end on time.
This happens always and to everyone.

We cannot help but justify
Our spiteful satisfaction.
And what of it?
Time does not melt more slowly.
Inevitable-children will grow up.

Passions will wither away in due time.
Once again, life will dart past
On the white fields of loneliness,
Without leaving a trace.

       "Fields of Loneliness" (English translation by Larissa Kulinich)
        Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2013/01/23/10139
        Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lT0vFFQvufk
Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess



To live with no one,
To sleep hugging no one,
To not be afraid of cold walls.
The outcome is frozen in useless pictures.
I have forgotten
To whom I wanted to sing in them.
I have abandoned more than once,
Myself, others, and eternity.
I got to know ecstasy -- of betrayals and love.
I turned on the internet, and the
Impeccability of bytes
Dimmed the light
Coming from the inside.

How do you write
A text that won't disappear?
How do you not become a slave,
Or turn others into slaves?
How do you delineate an invisible trace
Without outlining it with flattery?
A plaid blanket of doubts
Gives birth to a new poem.

"Text" (English translation by Larissa Kulinich)
         Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2013/01/26/11934
         Youtube declamation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsDi3VFterc

Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess


They took us to the wrong place again,
Settled on an extra planet,
So that we could develop ourselves,
To multiply our experience further in the covenant.
We were told there would be love,
Happiness, fidelity and nothing but wealth.
And it seemed as if a knife would be ready:
Then the sacrileges would pass like butter.
They put the pictures of the worlds into us,
That we might enjoy the science,
And not by the light of evil fires of books,
Smartphones chatting with boredom.
We were proud that better than our children
Could only be their children and grandchildren.
The futility of belief in the absurdity of undertakings:
They are masters of bragging being crooked.
But now that all are at the table
Turned out - all are equal, but unequal,
The people's broom is in short supply,
That there should remain a percentage of quasi-heads.
In cities, to rule the crowd,
All are driven down - the fakes: countries and families.
To exterminate to nought with impunity
For the illusion of pseudo-salvation.
For the freedom to live - to inject with a potion,
To divide into bads and goods,
To make it easier to defeat them all,
In the pleasures of soullessness ingrown.
Yes, few will be left alive,
That the Earth may not be unwanted,
From the stories of wax figures
We glue eternity together, to call it the Almighty.
        Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2021/09/12/5430

                                                              Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=da_Y0PCTbNc
                                                               Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess






I was swept up in alleyways
Of my tattered soul—
Between the fate and beds,
On which I never lived.

I have paid for my doubts by household
To eradicate them all for sure.
By emptiness of the rapture
Do not compel to quell

In me, true and veritable,
Free man who creates
Avoiding injection of evil:
For them—the corral of life,
For me—the arrow of time.

July 14, 2021

     Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2021/07/11/2181



You hoped it would blow over?
It doesn't work - it touches everyone.
And the holy ark won't save you.
Do not count on the success.

It is illusory that there is no end
To the play which is life.
Till the last scoundrel
You will never be clean,
No matter how angry you get.

They will stop to beat everyone,
When you only answer in moan.
Humiliated by the power, life is a mess
Of dreams to betray at the end.

If you think that a shot will save you
From your fate with nausea.
It is not in the book that lies,
It's in thee, as the king turned out to be naked.

Step away from the window to know,
At what height is your cry,
It will be heard by all around.
And cast out the night...
And feel thou art: you are an old man again.

I have no strength to turn back time.
Pass on what you have learned, they ignore.
The umbrella of evil is over:
The rain of decay pierced me:
All the roles are already exhausted.

        Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2021/05/12/7536   

         Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co1vZektH9w
           Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess



                Dreaming of the night—
                Gardens of Graves.
                They're other's debts.
The halo melted:                     I pray you, read
The throne is false.                 A moment in a necroscream.
I've chased by crowd:             Stumps of desires—
Life is a cyclotron.                  Evil years' wig.
                Pamper with misery
                Sucked meaning,
                The horde of ideas—
                To fate's encore.
                Forgive me for scrapping,
                For the nought, for bargaining.
                What is the delirium to those,
                To me is a home,
                The work—is the morgue.
                I woke up. The ray
                Slides along the bottom
                Of timelessness: I curse
                The coup d'état of "goodness".
Naivety—sprinkles with lies.
The sin of words is overthrown:
The height of mind is the AIDS of souls.

        Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2021/06/21/2805





The number of heartbeats left
     Is left as uncountable:
     It is given. To sit
On Time to slam the door.

The end will multiply the goals,
     They’re looking like they don't exist.
     A lost ticket to the train of bliss
We were not in time,
                       All at once.

The meanings of the gods are beaten -
     Fulfilling the commands of sin.
     Namaz of love is washed away,
False feelings unselfish?..

From each a crypt
     Of abandoned ideas,
     Of aspirations all thinner and thinner.
Yes, life was fierce,

                       Forever in the dew of tears...

Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2021/04/02/4023


          Who would not want
              On his anniversary,
                To ask his spirit,
     “Have you achieved everything?”
    And to listen to their pseudo-balm,
    To burn the boxes of hateful books,
           Those written by you.

           And among the readers,
              There is only you.
     The heart aspires to fight again,
          But there are no meanings
                Outside of beauty.

               Where has it gone?
     Following the plaid blanket of years,
    It dissipated in the shadows of faces.
                   My light is
     A short splash of life—a blitz.*

*English translation by Larissa Kulinich, Kirkland,WA
Original Russian: https://stihi.ru/2018/06/17/8175
Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1i54jgn5PA
Read by Olga Akhmetova, Russian poetess


  In memory of Alexander Budyansky 1956-2002

           My friend is gone.
    Or maybe he “was helped” to go.
           The circle is closed,
           And the moment for
         A crosshair was found.
         There is only one way.
            Like a bird—down.
        To forget, to fall asleep.
     There are no visas to go there.
           The selection is tough,
                Blind, and deaf.
       The best ones—to the drain.
 Let the earth be eiderdown for them.

        And we, having betrayed,
            Telling lies, laughing,
       And having stood in a row,
           Afraid to look deeply
           Into each other’s eyes,
        Lest “God forbid not me,”
         An unctuous pus oozes
            From the pale lips.
You cannot shake off everybody.
   You cannot “be helped” to go.
        You cannot slip away.
           Descend to those,
To take revenge, in order to live,
       Like he was hoping for.
         To reveal the essence.
     Well, did he fly in vain?*

Song from "SUPERMANIFOLD OF LIFE" album (Track 2)
Alexander Budyansky Memorial Page

*English translation by Larissa Kulinich, Kirkland,WA
Original Russian:






Suddenly I woke up in the twentieth year,
The pastness is in the past. Where am I going again?
Not possible to hug, the whole that was—
Not worth dreaming about—the whole what will happen.

Around me—the shadows in the guise of people—
They mock me worse than animals.

The army of goblins will not force me
To suffer from the madness of masks.

All laws—are died in battle
For the illusion of singing to the idle.

Everyone has his own idle on the wall
Who dissolves freedom—in the window.

The demon screams from the souls of angels—into the night:
I will try to calm it down, to overcome it.

To go further without fear,
To avoid humiliations—by striving.

           Original Russian: http://stihi.ru/2020/10/21/4963






I'm tired of wandering in the darkness,
The aspiration makes my eyes rattle.
I don't want to suppress night-fear
Before I give away my world.

I am waiting for bullying - a crate.
Without fighting, doubt is their laughter.
I won't notice - jamming of nothingness:
On the run, my soul to extinguish

I quit my slave - to play,
Dressing up, I say to muzzle-rags - no.
I don't kiss anyone's portrait,
So not to puke out the whole rest of life.

I chase away the temptations of dreams,
Their vanity of infected dalliance.
Throwing formulas with alpha, omega on the table:
I light rising up with the infinity of suns.

I remove the naiveness of the white lines,
Waiting for their unfaithful caresses.
I won't accept - whispering after me: scholastic you.
I tailor the plaid of Fate from the losses.

            Russian: https://stihi.ru/2020/07/04/5200

               Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eL0Ez7u4PyU



So tired of scandals and tears
I gave them - much divorces, and dreams:
A hundred lives would be enough to regret,
If you choose not courage, but a crate.

Of all lucks - only likes on my verses,
From friends - only Facebook, Instagram.
Trying not to throw up from news -
I cannot. I can only drink up His laugh.

Behind the dawn the dawn flickers,
All those who are not present have become closer.
I forget that there is sin and passion.
Nothing to steal - from nothing.

To bow down - there is no evil, no knees.
To wait out the wall of change
It will not be possible without enchantment,
I don't care if I don't turn around and to live out to that.

Russian: https://stihi.ru/2020/06/28/3599





No one calls me at night...
I am forgotten like carrion.
Who would care? Where would I end up?
If not in a hospital room, bare and white.
Like a wounded beast, half dead,
That is trudging towards a trap,
I am trying to come back to life
Rising out of the books I've read.

It's not about the mortality of life -
That's not the case.
It is about uselessness of those boring rules
Suggesting we continue a senseless race,
Without any conscious thoughts,
Without any goals that make sense
For only to get a really "fun" end.

It's not that I am waiting for somebody to call.
They have been loveless -
As if selected - all.
My heart is pricked by their greed and gall.
Sunsets of recurrent patterns.
And so let it be -
My life is vis-ŕ-vis...

           *English translation by Larissa Kulinich, Kirkland,WA
 Russian: https://www.stihi.ru/2020/02/11/8544

              Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_r2oZqDEJig



On the verge of shrieking,
I don't want you as a she-wolf
With a gaze toward the wood,
For all good nourishment and food,
Who chooses to become a harlot, careless and free,
Who is gnawing as souls, as those entrenched in debt might be.

I don't want you as a she-dog,
Forcibly committed, loyal, but not to me -
To conventions making faces, hostile force
Which obviously means
That there are no limits to hypocrisy and double deals.

My dream for you is to become creative, real,
Be able to pulsate with feeling,
Believing in yourself and our common creed
That begs us to perform what both of us need -
To sing it, fully it embrace,
Not to indulge in pleasures, but love each other in full grace.

           *English translation by Larissa Kulinich, Kirkland,WA
            Russian: https://www.stihi.ru/2020/01/04/8444



All I see is daily grey grind,
There is no escape from it, alive.
I grow into uselessness by way of trepidation.
A shriek into futility - there is no salvation.

Minutes pass by and get scattered,
Years pass by giving no salute.
Have they ever really mattered?
Time comes to us to be subdued.

Formulas of tenderness are in disguise, somewhere,
Lest they be reduced to zero, an empty spot.
Lips are getting dry and bare-
There's no one to tempt them, make them hot.

Suppressed by darkness, understated feelings
Cannot be hidden by things that used to have some meaning.
Why should we fuss, regret, be in despair?
We'll be appreciated at some point, later on... somewhere... *


Вижу лишь серые будни я,
От них никуда не уйти живьем.
Врастаю в ненужность трепетом,
И от тщетности — в крик не спастись.
Проходят минуты россыпью,
Года забывают честь отдать.
Давно уж на них не расчитывать,
Чтобы не было стыдно уйти.

Прячутся формулы нежности,
Чтоб не терять объектов ноль.
Пересыхают губы в стон —
Снова некому их искушать.
Прежними смыслами не закрыть
Темной энергии недочувств.
Ну и тогда зачем жалеть?
Мы все признаны будем — там…




Let us forgive each other for things
That happened not to us, not for us, -but in
a dream.
Ink tantalizingly attracting you to me,
Is drawing roses on wine.
Let us forget carnal deceptions,
And cover them with frantic struggle.
Far-reaching aspirations drawing us
To the confinement of nirvana,
Reveal mutual understanding-be yourself.
I'll send an instant message into the night-
Why should insanity stack us on a stick of
The ashes from the urn of Love
Have been dispersed by an unwanted guest.
A reproach for something sung
Is flying away on the winds of doubt.
I sacredly believe in a halo
Embroidered with purposes made of felt of
colored hopes.
A thrust... Olympus...*



Простим друг другу все, что было
Не с нами, не для нас — во сне.
К тебе манящие чернила
Рисуют розы на вине.
Забудем плотские обманы,
Прикроем истовой борьбой
Стремлений вдаль,
В острог нирваны
Взаимосмысла — быть собой.

Спрошу миг в ночь: зачем безумье
Нанизывает нас на трость
Перерожденья. Прах из урны
Любви разнес незваный гость,
Укор отпетости, по ветру
Сомнений. Свято верю в нимб,
Расшитый целями из фетра
Цветных надежд...
Бросок... Олимп...

Youtube declamation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyeQD6EJ-XU





Writing poetry equates
betrayal of the Motherland:
Is there no strength to face reality?
This is not the time to whine or moan.
To make them read me?
To become famous?
Did you decide that?
Maybe-to while away the time?
To hide my fear into the lines of poetry?
To justify powerlessness?
The rows of graves-it is your fault?
There is no washing away the disgrace
by turning a blind eye to a legion of
The seal of intense centuries
will not be turned into dignity
by the tears of false adoration
of the bottom you dug out
for you and yours-in sin...*

Стихи писать, что Родину предать

Стихи писать,
Что Родину предать:
Неужто на реальность нет и сил?
Уже не время ныть, стонать.
Заставить их меня читать?
Чтобы известным стать?
Ты так решил?

Быть может время скоротать?
И спрятать страх - в строку?
Бессилье оправдать?
Твоя вина - ряды могил?
Не смыть позор, закрыв глаза
На зомби рать.
Веков неистовых печать
Не превратят в достоинство -
Ни слёзы псевдоумиленья дном,
Которое ты сам себе
И для своих -
Во грешности отрыл...

*English translations from the Russian by Larissa Kulinich, Kirkland,WA

© Copyright: Степан Дуплий, Steven Duplij, 2019



Next Fake Year


The year—gone,

The life—dismissed.

I cry—begone!

The answer—“blissed”.


I need—to be,

But fate—as is,

As biting bee

Perverting kiss.


Call-back is dead,

All colors—grey.


All friends—away.


They love—for sale,

Become turnstile.

I carry sail:

Last shot—a smile.


The country—lies:
‘All things must pass’.
The freedom—dies,
Fake future—grass...



            Translated from the above original English

            into Russian by the author: https://stihi.ru/2022/01/08/4588




I’m not a stranger—
I am—a man,
Love—inner changes,
Have—what I can.
I’m not an alien
Among memories—
Searching for spelling
Of supreme tries.
Twisting the spaces
Of different lies,
I melt in traces
Of pain—not to die...


Declamation by the author on YouTube:






I see the grinning Face
In reddish light again,
I sing the final song
And cry: Begone!
My losses wait
And try to hate
All my false pasts
To choose the last.
I see the Stop
And call the Hope,
But His reply
Is short: you die.




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