Валерия Чистякова

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Страна: Казахстан

Я окончила Назарбаев университет по специальности Мировые языки, литература и культура. Мои отношения с поэзией складывались, мягко говоря, непросто. Как прозаик, я очень долго избегала написание стихов, пока не решила больше не прятаться от этого. Мой опыт как прозаика сильно повлиял на написание моей поэзии. У меня есть привычка собирать первые строки, а иногда и последние. К сожалению, в большинстве случаев эти строки оставались на страницах моих записных книжек, и я не возвращалась к ним в своих историях. Поэзия позволила мне, наконец, собрать эти строки вместе, сказать то, что я оставила недосказанным и нетронутым, и создать что-то столь же хаотичное и странное, как сам мой разум. Мои стихи — это сборники моих мыслей, чувств, музыки, искусства, которые влияют на меня, разговоров с друзьями и историй, которые они мне рассказывают, или историй, которые я подслушала у других людей. Меня интересуют сны, особенно осознанные, и то, что происходит, когда они сталкиваются с современной реальностью. Меня интересует все хаотическое, странное, скрытое, порой болезненное и грустное – все то, что общество так часто избегает.


Country: Kazakhstan

I recently graduated from the Nazarbayev university with World Languages, Literature, And Culture Major and Spanish And Hispanic Studies Minor. My journey with poetry was, to say the least, bumpy. In fact, as a fiction writer, I was avoiding writing poetry for the longest time until I decided not to hide from it anymore. I let my experiences as a prose writer influence my poetry writing. I have a habit of collecting first lines and sometimes last lines. Unfortunately, most times those lines would remain on the pages of my notebooks and I would not come back to them in fiction. Poetry allowed me to finally collect these lines together, say the things that I left unsaid and untouched, and craft something as chaotic and strange as my mind itself. My poems are collections of my thoughts, feelings, music, art that I like, conversations with my friends and stories they tell me, or stories that I overheard other people tell. I am interested in dreams, especially lucid ones, and what happens when they collide with modern reality. I am interested in everything chaotic, strange, hidden, or cast out by society.


“Mind on Shuffle” poetry collection

20s

Universe hates me today,

or maybe it was hating me yesterday,

or maybe it will,

or maybe it is yet to be decided.

Time equals space divided by velocity.

Wrong, Time equals Space now.

20s are always like that:

doubt anxiety student loans

plague smallpox cholera.

Just stay at home, old sport,

stock up on wine and cereal

and you might just be fine.

Steal your neighbor’s poodle to go outside.

Or, sing from the balcony with your siamese cat.

Universe doesn’t care either way.

Blahs Separation Bewilderment

I first met my husband on the phone.

Masculine?              Feminine?

Depends on the situation.

Strangeness and banality –

the things I carried.

He kept his demons on a leash.

And the age difference didn’t matter.

He always looked older –

a drinker and a clown (self-diagnosed).

I dreamed that Prince Phillip and Queen Elisabeth got a divorce.

Asked the Gemstone Goddess about it,

went through each reading twice.

Signal got cut off,

and I lost one of my socks doing his laundry.

I was always in pain.

Biological relatedness and marriage do not create a family, but unfettered deathless devotion.

Who what when where why –

checked with the dictionary of obscure sorrows.

But if I left now –

I would never be allowed there again.

‘why do rainbows make people happy?’

Do they

Always?

Red,

Orange,

Yellow,

Green,

and

Blue.

No one passing nowhere

till at least noon

Red zone

Distinctively final

People running against the half-open doors

Stumbling.

The sun is out

Yellow will make you feel good

Twenty minutes

Out of the year.

Green

Should mean safety

But feels more like cold,

The place of panic and apprehension.

.ɘbiƨni ɘʜɈ moɿʇ ɘbiƨɈυo ɘʜɈ ɘɘƧ

miserable glass wall protecting you from the outside or, more like protecting the outside from you.

Eyes  always  watching                   some  you know                       some don’t deserve to know you.

Balance.

Not when it’s night

And delirious you feels like flying

amongst the tall greyish buildings

connecting two and two

the elevated passage lasts.

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