blog > Art > Poetry

Oh happiness by Misha Lyuve

Jul 25, 2015

Oh happiness,
I am making love to you now
as if we had eternity ahead.
Why don’t you just stay?
Why don’t you marry me
instead of your usual sudden running off,
as you swoosh at me with your precious behind
disappearing afar?

ARE WE READY – introduction by Misha Lyuve

Mar 30, 2013

Director and editor: Zao Wang

ARE WE READY – it is a question and not a question…

All profits from album sales go to Worldwide Orphans Foundation. Be generous

Mosquito lessons by Misha Lyuve

Jan 13, 2013

Last night I fed an army of mosquitoes.
They made a feast of my flesh and blood.
And as I laid helpless in the darkness
I felt like a martyr for nothing.

I tried to reason with them that I have an album coming out,
That I lead a consulting gig and that I am a good person.
But they didn’t give a damn, preferring to my goodness,
The sweetness of my blood, they found abundantly favorable.

I was madly furious, for never I’m ignored so bluntly
And no one molests me unpunishingly.
The stings itched godlessly and kept me awake wild-eyed.
But when I felt most desperate, I was granted wisdom.

What is there to hate mosquitoes for?
Only fault of theirs is that they are true to their nature.

Granted I’m not fond of their nature,
But their “being true” is quite admirable.
I wish I had that much zeal to stay true
To my self in my endeavors and obligations.

And if in times when I feel as tiny as a mosquito,
I could create as much impact as it does -
Then, at the moments of my greatness
I could sweep the universe of its feet.

Koh-Lanta, Thailand
November 2012

Blurry by Misha Lyuve

Dec 13, 2012

The future looks blurry.
The birds flew in different directions.
Some dreams blossomed unexpectedly
bringing sweet buds and flowers
and promises of fruit;
they stroke tender strings of the heart
with wings of anticipation.

Some dreams crashed against reality,
wrong expectations,
lack of talent, effort or luck –
and all you want to do is run away
screaming “fuck this shit”
and consume boxes of chocolate
till there is a hole in the stomach.

Is it dumb to expect
evenness to this perpetuity?
Or the only way to get there
is by sticking big toes of my feet into my ears
and chanting ohms till I’m delirious?
But surely don’t settle for “it’s going to be ok”
because it is not necessarily true, though comforting.

They say that it is through confusion
that the path to clarity lies,
and that broken hearts and empty vessels
have a calling for inspiration,
and if you piece back bruised parts together
you might still get out there
and cause some trouble.

Cheers to that.