fair.
Shambala can be restored now, if we ask, for our own sake
In the new cosmic age of Aquarius, when we make a stake.
Large Magellanic Cloud is a Milky Way’s satellite and ally.
Magellanians build inter-galaxy ships and fly to Earth
And to the edge of universe. Where Cain’s heirs hide
In pride and tried to prepare a surprise assault in a trite,
Provoking a preventive Magellanic nuclear strike.
Some Vega’s astro-pilots have common gens with Jews
From Prophet Elijah, who was evacuated in a fire chariot
By their ancestors. But to recognize Jews they refuse.
As they refused to recognize Elijah. As a refugee
He found there a new home and built a Jehovah’s dome.
Now they protect Earth from uninvited alien ghosts
And here in our periphery of Galaxy they are hosts.
With its Center and the alfa of Scorpio, Antares, anti-Ares.
Where lived Enoch, after escape from Magellanic Cloud.
Antaresians are proud of the fact and act as bosses,
What leads them to religious conflicts and various losses.
Vegains, more tolerant and popular, laugh aloud
At their spiritual ambitions and genetic superstitions.
Other allies come to us from Andromeda Nebula satellites,
ball and ellipsoid, stable and solid, and from Super-cluster
For fun and casting in our local space ninja blockbuster.
5
An interstellar ship is based on a nuclear fusion reactor
As the main factor of a multidimensional breakthrough.
The truth is that energy, concentrated over a critical point,
In a small space, opens an astral way to any distant place,
Joint to it by a quark ray. The starship turns into light
For the time of flight and dematerializes, disappears, dies
With further instant resurrection in any chosen direction.
High speed is an illusion, the secret is in carbon fusion.
Magellanians sell their starships to allies and friends,
Signing charts. If friendship ends take most of them back
For repair parts. Lack of maintenance makes left ships dead
Instead of power traitors get head aches and debts.
Deceit and self-conceit never pass the test of the best.
A spiritual civilization, Aldebaran, travels not in space
But in time, the inner dimension of soul. Its goal is grace
And its art is fine and sublime. Philosophy is the base
Of theocracy, ethics and esthetics are common guidelines.
Religion outlines general rules and the rest is insight.
The sight of the rising sun, fills them with peace and love.
Above all in icons they place a dove as the symbol of flight
To inner heaven or a white angel of light.
Sirius is a binary culture, a game and a fight
Of black and white. Shadows and reflections of light
Are mixed and fixed in a labyrinth of echo and fright.
Ancient Egypt worshipped Sirius as a kin civilization
By gens and religions and Egyptian nation died.
Another equivalent in space is Regulus, a communist state,
Like the late Soviet Union. One on the whole planet
And on one continent. Planned economy, astronomy
And photon ships, flying to a Sirius base and close stars.
Lower than the speed of light but quick enough to reach
Our Mars and make a base there too, if they only knew
About us and our fuss. At Sirius they support reason
And hold back mystic egoism by their ideological altruism.
6
Aliens opened to Earth with persistence their existence
With the approach of the new cosmic age. A new stage
Of humanity, ready to learn how to earn access to space.
As a hint to the earthly lords that they are not gods.
The extraterrestrial trace shows ways to our own future
Without the misfortune of the world’s end. This trend
In human culture must blend our spirituality with the reality
Of higher, more developed worlds. White heavenly birds.
Moon in the sky is the silver queen of a violet night,
Blue stars sing angelic songs in the silence of beyond.
Their light flies many years just to say us: “Yes.”
Who belongs to their realm? Don’t try to guess.
I cast an unreal film. For unknown sleeping worlds
With angelic afterwords. Who has made this mess?
I mean the chaos galaxy. It bursts out like a flower.
Large Magellanic Cloud, unity of power and beauty,
Delicious, colorful and fruity abstract paints entertain
And tease with ease. All who fly by. I send my art as a dart
To the heart. I kill by will. All ghosts of the past.
Future shines like a rising sun. I believe in better
And send next generations my enigmatic rhythmic letter.
We are aliens to ourselves in the bing of a fussy busy city,
The rein of lust and dust. Dollar is the merciless king.
And we wait with hope for a contact or a contract
With some one witty, who would help us on our bitty tract.
Strangers to life, we walk along a highway on and on.
And no one stops to take us, where we want to be reborn.
Cosmos is multidimensional and multivariate,
We can loose there ourselves for ever, if we are not clever.
But there is also a chance to overcome the trance
And win the game of fame and violet flame. In the name
Of the law of karma and the wheel dharma.
There are Buddha-lands in galaxies, enlightened worlds,
Which will easily understand my words and my real works.
7
After all what do we want from life and God?
Happiness in love and some money. Yes, it’s funny,
But that would be enough even for a million dollar tough.
He can’t eat all his bucks as bread and butter or meat.
Drink like wine. And he will end like everybody in decline.
So what’s the use of such senseless life? Deathly smile?
You are a mile from home but don’t believe it and stop.
Your style may be hot, brilliant but desert dry,
No matter what are your ambitions and how hard you try.
A single drop can’t prime the crop but a rain does the job.
Money can’t make you happy if you are its slave,
And you will never get it if you cry and crave.
You can read the riddle of life, if you treat it with delight.
After kung-fu my pace became sliding and gliding,
I flow like water avoiding cool stones of fools.
After space my face became melting and smelting,
I glow like a brave candle in a cold dumpy cave.
Star wars change civilizations by their self-realization.
A samurai should die, when necessary, for his lord,
But he can survive and ford the river to the other shore
If he has no fright and doesn’t count a silly score.
Fear can paralyze reflexes, tranquility – sharpen a sword.
Don’t lie or cry, it’s a waste of time, better strike.
Bamboo bends under the snow and doesn’t break.
You should know the secret and fake a defeat,
Then rising again alive and strong to your feet.
Alien space adventures inspire my poetical ventures,
Maybe my verses will inspire somebody’s films.
And fantastic realms will pop up on the screen,
Powerful, beautiful, enigmatic, shocking and serene.
Mental cinema is a catalyst of creativity and vision,
Psychic research in space is more true than television.
Even more real is inner light and harmony of life,
If you have inside your own personal insight.
8
Health and wealth are two wings of luck.
But where does it fly? If you find a buck,
Are you really happy, snappy? You need a million,
Than a billion etc. Money doesn’t ever slake
Even if you drink a lake. But some sum
As means of survival is just trival.
As a symbol of success you need no more, no less.
Luck is pluck, throw off your shuck and stake
Back what you take. Make a decision on your vision
And go ahead through fright and dread,
Confusion and collision, illusion and derision.
A bluebird is not a duck, you can’t hunt it by a chuck.
Clean your ears and eyes, luck flies to paradise.
Intuition was nutrition for my soul for many years.
Now I’m logical like a computer. Yes, I can’t prove
What skeptics don’t approve and I’m not a good disputer.
I prefer lonely mental flight for new ideas and truths.
As youths continue their fight I go on with my blues.
I like the freedom of improvisation, jazz is soul too.
The melody of visualization in my verses
Is written not for bosses but for all you.
Imagine all, that you can’t manage, as already done
And leap to the fun of inspiration, the easy-going game
Of flame. You will get a rerun of your lucid vision,
A new heavenly space religion will stun your critics
Like a gun. If you understand, you can create your brand.
Send ideas to space without a restricting lace
And will all come back in time without any chase.
Enriched with cosmic views and inspiring news.
Stick to solid stable facts, make far-going conclusions,
Free yourself of all delusions and skip tedious silly tracts.
The green tree of happy life grows for free-minded people
Higher than any steeple, above all earthly roofs,
Falsified scientific proofs. And its fruit is truth.
9
I was not hired or paid for my research and search
But I’m a retired space scout, writing about my secret job
In the universe in the form of a cinema script in verse.
My information is presented as an imagination of a lob,
But I don’t bob the cob. The Chaotic Galaxy, our neighbor,
My main discovery and field of labor, is painted in flames.
For the logical culture of Andromeda Ellipsoid
I’m logical and solid. Andromeda Ball loves games,
Milky Way’s Center – illumination, Super-Cluster claims
Serious aims. The Knot is a clot of problems and a dot.
Here I stop and jot my plot at a trot. If you want to hop
Higher and farther like a cop to pursue alien criminal habits
Like rabbits to the Edge, where they hide, put aside pride
And be ready for a deathly ride on a Satan’s astral tide.
Drop a bomb to crack the nut and glide back to your side.
Snide worlds at the Edge were destroyed, it’s a good news.
But maybe their remnants can revive. Or arise anew.
Satan after his revolt was changed by a new archangel,
The seventh by his role too. But evil went on and spread.
Freedom of will leaves chances for the return of the red.
In some distant future, when all forget the dread.
To avert this threat we must fix our experience for ages.
And let it go to the vast space, which should know
The other side of the pride. Earth was the first to throw
A stone to Satan and we have the right to write
The chronicles of Armageddon and of the new down.
In chaotic galaxies coexist all ideologies and regimes.
Occultism as a version too. As well as communism.
Dispersion beams these gleams in streams,
To let out steams chaotic teams spread anarchism,
Commies as mommies promise, what fools miss,
Religions preach only after-death eternal bliss
At a license, dismissing memory and common sense.
So to avert some red revenge we must stay ever on alert.
10
Ellipsoid galaxies have inside two focuses or poles.
Their roles - spiritual and material – never coincide.
Like Sun and Saturn they are opposites, all have to decide,
Which one to choose and which to loose.
In ball galaxies focuses are one, life there is a fun.
Andromeda Ball loves all, plays games and emits rays.
It resonates with the Center of Universe and transmits
Its force to the whole galaxies cluster as a Zen master.
Milky Way’s Center is a fire ball like Sun and is also a fun.
To understand extraterrestrial cultures you must first
Understand your own. They resonate with space too.
And affect it back like the burst of a superstar, seen by all.
Few feel art to the full, but we can add ours to the pool.
Real contact of civilizations goes on in inspirations,
My poetry is a strange exchange with starry sky
And I revenge by my fire for distant friends and allies.
I sigh at the sight of unseen to them snowdrops,
And burn all lies about green ugly alien dwarfs.
I had a girl-friend from Vega, a fair fairy of light,
Called Congui-Tan. We viewed our common war as a fun
And parted after the victory and the end of fight.
I send all my verses to her lonely heart to warm it up
And remind of our happy start. She was the first
Successful sky-spy on Earth, we drank our cup of wine
And she left. Now her life is far from mine,
But why not drop her a thousand of lines?
Alien researchers know English and Russian well,
And muse at my poetry as at an evasive smell.
I don’t cast any magic spell. It’s just a tinkling silver bell.
I send my hello to all familiar worlds, where I spent years
Of adventures and lucky flights to God.
I got there all I needed for my quiet life on Earth
And now have at my warm home a burning hearth.
So I feel here save and well and say to aliens: “Farewell!”
11
I’ve changed space and theology to astrology.
Now I help people to find their love or true way.
It’s pleasant to be useful and serve others with good advice.
I teach how to solve their problems, meditate and pray.
How to see with their own eyes, what I say.
I have a young beautiful loving wife, a daughter and a son.
And interpret horoscopes positively without a dun
God can improve your fate, if you not skeptical or late.
Because any natal chart has variants from the start.
I also choose better days for myself and amuse my muse.
Before I though of a fantasy film about my realm,
But now I fuse these images with words into verse.
No inspiration was in vain and I’m on the wave again.
What’s the use of my poetry to readers? What is its idea?
Aliens are far, though they really exist and can interfere.
But their equivalents in life are so near and strong…
If you are wrong, the throng will trample you to a nil.
But if you are right and your mind is bright, you will resist
And win. Big bosses are alien like ghosts to the rest,
But you shouldn’t fear and if you do your best
Everything will be safe, serene and clear.
Aum Yeum Om is a mantra for survival and success.
It’s a key to the door from Earth to Heaven and to space.
To overcome stress, restore your balance and normal pace
You need to meditate. No trance, just repeat the sounds.
It will change the interpretation of your horoscope and fate.
In extreme situations pray: “Lord, You are my life!”
And you will surely survive. I tried all other known
practices and was not satisfied so asked from God my own.
I received this formula in 1983, when the parade of planets
Tuned Earth to the Center of Milky Way. By a divine plan
I prayed after that only with these words and discovered
more new ideas and new worlds that I could guess at first.
Lord. You are my protection! Lord, you are my success!
A life like a day
Autobiographical notes of a poet
Under a pine in mountains life is fine.
I'm free to lie in the sun, getting fun
From the wind and grass
As hours and days pass.
Wild nature is my life school,
I'm not a fool to believe in pure intellect
And I now that any real, true effect
Is achieved by the struggle for existence.
I believe in effort and persistence
And when I relax, I don't melt like wax.
In mountains I tune to my fate
And open a transparent gate
To escape our world of hate.
But return refreshed and new
To the chosen few,
Who walk in the morning dew.
Writing poetry is not a skill, it is a gift. But to get you must live a life, interesting to readers. Otherwise you’ll have nothing to write about. I became a poet after thirty four years of spiritual research, though my first verse I wrote thirty years ago and it required four years of Zen studies.
The mist in the window doesn’t pass,
A branch silently touches the glass.
There is only deceit behind,
But my breast is warm and I don’t mind.
For several years I didn’t write anything but a score of haikus. Then little by little I started writing again, very rarely but very easy, when I took a list of paper and a pen. And to my birthday at fifty five I wrote in three weeks as much as in all my life. And started writing in English too. One thousand rimed lines. It was a breakthrough and I wonder now, how it was prepared.
The exam on English literature was approaching and I looked though the textbook, underlining names and fact to learn at the second reading. I had three day for each exam and this method helped me remember all I needed. Not for long but for a good mark. That’s why I never used a crib and studied well, though I didn’t spend on studying any time at home during the year. I spent it at the foreign languages library, studying Indian, Chinese and European philosophy.
Moscow Institute of Foreign Languages, later renamed to Linguistic University, was an ideological agency, preparing specialists for contacts with foreigners, ideological enemies of the Soviets people and our personal too. We were thoroughly controlled State Security Committee and even selected for the work of spies. But Zen was not in the list of prohibited ideologies, because the classics of Marxism didn’t write about it anything. And it was very difficult to understand what it really means. Its byproducts karate, kung-fu, Chinese and Japanese art were also ideologically neutral and did not compromise Zen itself.
The essence of Zen is the esthetic vision of life, shown in Chinese and Japanese poetry and painting. Enlightenment is feeling life’s deep harmony, hidden under the waves of transient sensations and events. Like the tranquility of a sea, often compared in Buddhism to nirvana. So Zen is not a religion to be denied by atheists, but an inspiration to creativity and a philosophy of vital optimism.
I had no problems with the regime, until my elder brother fled to the West. He graduated from the same Institute and went to works as an interpreter abroad to Algeria and escaped from there to France and then Germany. I knew that he was going to flee, but he promised me to do it only with me after I go abroad as an interpreter too. He forgot about me and did what was convenient to him and thus sacrificed me to his desire of sweet and beautiful life in the free world, because after his escape had no chance to get abroad, or to get access to foreigners as an interpreter. My career and my life were ruined at the start and in two years I became an outcast.
That was a test of Zen and the pantheistic Indian philosophy I studied. I chose to go on and ahead. When I lost the qualified job, I returned home to Stavropol, found the work of a night guard and devoted myself to yoga meditation, many hours each day for many years. First mantra Om, then Hare Krishna and finally my own meditation and prayer formula – Lord, You my calmness! Sun, you are my health! Sun, you are our life! Lord, You are our protection! Lord, You are our success! The last word should be selected in accordance with the situation and needs and the formula should be repeated during the day at spare time.
I studied Agni-yoga, a Russian space teaching, and Christianity, Bible, then Koran and Islam. God for me was both the essence of all things and the Person above them, Creator of the universe. I only couldn’t understand how Christ or Krishna could be God. It was too irrational for God to need a body to be believed so I preferred Muslim conception and my own spiritual experience, which lead me on and ahead. Any deification of a man inflamed emotions and imagination, but didn’t help to solve real problems, because a prayer to a man was not a prayer to God. This man couldn’t do what was expected from him as God and this prayer missed real
