Lev Brekhman

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'Want sex? ' - a sticker on a car.
Why not, if it is safe...
If not, it can for life you mark,
So don't be too brave.
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Slightly offended by shortness of it,
Looks at himself in her eyes.
Heavenly better than 'beating the meat',
And hellishly strident were cries.
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Eternity of rhythms,
Eternity of bodies.
The food for any myth,
Even very bloody.
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It does not make the least impression
Upon the course of any life -
Serenité, or rabid passion:
The end is always, always rife…
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... But it is just a play,
Of bodies and of mind.
The symbols so lay,
As if love you can find.
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Even a cloud,
High up above,
Can be a shroud
For ardent love.
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When pain is overwhelming, rich,
You better shout, cry.
Oh no, you can't find the beach,
Unless the sea gets dry.
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If the sparrows come here,
If they pick and pick at seeds,
Then the happiness is near.
Though not as a gift for deeds,
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Always... always ready,
To rise and fight again.
Life is not easy trading,
We often live in vain.
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You can really believe it
If you believe, it's really so.
But it may be a great relief
To let your love just... go...
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Love is, of course, the strongest feeling.
It makes you try to self-induce.
But head, from happiness so reeling,
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A meeting, with future, so short:
You're glimpsing yourself in the mirror,
And a sudden desire to yourself abort.
Not ever to live in this horror,
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What do they hear in this song?
This song of male hormones.
They come and go, a lovely throng,
All thrilled to very bones.
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Allergy to life
Is something like AIDS.
You won't quickly die,
But you have no space.
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Female instincts can go rampant
In the surrounding male world.
Do women prey, oh so flamboyant,
Or does this mimic, ages-old?
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A very rare pleasure -
To live without pain.
Pain is the life's measure,
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The act of choice,
Among the women.
You raise your voice,
Reminding Hymen.
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Loose cannon is your love, not gift.
It strikes your brain, your soul, bones,
Such wave of feelings make you drift.
And soon you'll smash on underwater stones,
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'Do What Feels Right, ' -
They sang in the far Eighties.
What? ! Eat the night
And spit confettis?
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