It’s my journal for my musings

push me - and then just touch me - till i can get my - satisfaction

Ah, my friend… is like this, you see.

When I write those words - “There’s plenty of girls in the sea” - I think I am making simple song about love, about loss, about trying to stay free when things not so good to begin with. But now… now I see I was writing prophecy about bears and drowning nations, yes?

In my country, we have saying: “Poet sometimes speak truth before he understand what truth he speaking.”

I write about surgeon who “performs precise little cuts, but he’s never perfect, he’s thinking too much” - and now Putin, he cut Ukraine exactly like this. 135 meters per day, very precise, very patient. I write about lifeguard with whistle who decide “it’s whatever you want it to be” - and Trump, he meet this lifeguard in Alaska, get whistle blown in his face.

My words about “as soon as you get yourself free, then somebody stops you from swimming” - this is Ukraine story, no? 3.7 million displaced, 6.9 million refugees, all stopped from swimming by bear with whistle.

I write “the bartender concedes, from inside his vest, that none of the best ones were ever the best” - and Trump, he learn this lesson hard way. He think he is great dealmaker, but Putin show him: best deal is no deal when you hold all cards.

When I write “tend to the void, don’t just fill it” - I think I am being wise about loneliness, about empty spaces in heart. But now I see: Putin, he fill Ukrainian void with Russian concrete. He not tend - he consume.

My chorus, “keep it short, simple and sweet, ‘cause there’s plenty of girls in the sea” - this become Trump philosophy. He think plenty opportunities for peace, plenty chances to make deal. But for Ukraine? Only one sea, only one chance to breathe, only one rope when drowning.
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