Mishka Zakharin
The Official Mishka
Zakharin Website
Last
Updated: 20 February 2008
Bio of a Mishka:
Option 1 – Hardly
True
Option 2 – Mostly
True –
updated Oct 05
Option 3 – Absolutely,
Totally, and Completely True
Option 4 –
Promethian Perspective
“Has
anyone ever told you that talking to you is kind of like pulling teeth?”
“You
mean… because of all the blood…?”
— Published
Works of Mishka Zakharin
— Blah, blah, blah… and ‘what have you’…
http://allpoetry.com/MishkaZakharin
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Published Works of Mishka Zakharin…
A Silk Purse From
a Sow’s Ear (poetry
) – out of print
Mishka’s Comedia (poetry) – out
of print
Big, Naughty Monkey (poetry)
Of Gilded Hearts and
Girded Loins (fiction)
Possessed By the Daemon
Mishka (journalish
ramblings)
The Mad God (poetry)
Mishka
Shakespeare: The Complete Works (fiction/drama)
Mishka’s Decameron (poetry)
The Mishkan Book of
the Dead (fiction)
And Then
She Put Her Clothes On and Left… (poetry)
Banana You! - Daemon Mishka, Volume II (journalish ramblings)
Mishka, Mishka (poetry)
Year of the Golden
Monkey - Daemon Mishka, Volume III
(journalish ramblings/poetry/fiction)
Mishka’s Comedia (2nd Edition) (poetry)
Bastard Imagery
in Shakespeare (poetry,
short fiction, journalish ramblings)
Kromeshnik (poetry)
Big, Mad,
Naughty Monkey God (poetry) – ??????
Mishka’s
Florilegium (poetry)
Spectre of Life
– Daemon Mishka, Volume IV (journalish ramblings, poetry)
Sex &
Death: Passion’s Welts (poetry) NEW!
That
Was a Good Two Glopsworth – Daemon Mishka, Volume V ~COMING SOON~
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—Blah, blah, blah… and ‘what-have-you’…
My Most Splendid Absolute
She skates glancingly
o’er the scape of my being—
singing circles around,
up and down,
ere settling over,
nestling in…
She is unknown—
then so suddenly known,
a consummate flash,
an ethereal embrace
coalescing…
She is a stranger,
and a friend…
far away,
though I hold her within…
from out the vaguery
of yesterday’s void,
she has so quickly become
today’s most splendid absolute……
“The Times, They
Are a’Changin’…”
—but what if the times aren’t really
changing?
What if everything is always completely
static,
forever exactly the same as it has always
been—
but our individual (or collective?!) consciences
are soaring through a series
of just ever so slightly different
realities,
so that it seems as if things are changing?…
Then shouldn’t I be able to retrace my
steps—
to go back and find a better path?...
—or perhaps such would cause a massive
disjunction
in the centrifugal, temporal alignment of
the cosmos…
then we’d all be fucked…
best, perhaps, to let go… to move on…
blah,
blah, blah—ever
on and along
the random reticular of the fourth
dimension……
She
is the dream
with
whom I would walk
in
the waking world…
I
slumber blissfully
in
her ambient
of
such utter grace and beauty—
of
the underlying zeal
conveyed
in a fiery glance…
we
stroll joyously,
hip
to hip and arms around—
her
lips find mine
—and
again, and again!…
—but
then we trip,
catching
one another at the last
(—though
we have already fallen!—)
in
the buoyancy of lofting hearts…
she
laughs—
muffled
in yet another kiss,
and
then—
bloody
(freaking!) cathedral bells!
chaos
and damnation!
—the
alarm!…
and
I’m awake…
and
she is again
just
a dream……
Bloody hell rot.
So where am I?!
(But who are you!?)
Afloat where I would soar,
drifting when I would surge…
(better, methinks, than
to just stagnate in sinkage…)
—just rambling along,
singing the same ol’-same ol’ Blues…
months yet to go
of this wintery woe—
yet my mind springs ahead
to…… well, Spring, I guess…
(if you want to get technical about it…)
—to a warming of weather,
of heart, body, and soul—
and I won’t look back
upon the heinousness
of cold, bleak, snowy January…
I’ll just throw out
all that old Christmas candy
(everyone
was so wonderful to bestow),
because I rather prefer meat—
bloody steaks, juicy chickens,
or pleasant porkchops—
ah, Potemkin (you bastard!), old friend…
you are gone, but not forgotten…
(you’ve
a bit of gristle there in your teeth…
and
(I think) some pantyhose…)
butanyhoo…
“If January Kalends be summerly gay,
‘Twill be wintry weather till the Kalends
of May!~”
…well, then what if it’s sunny
but just colder than a witch’s tit?!……
St. Genevieve save us all…
and yet will I
decree: Happy New Year!!
And so shall it be!...
<—or so the weak and gullible will be led to
believe…!>
May the gods not be so angry—
amen.
Ode to Musings –
#6
I am both yin
and yang—
though I suppose
more yangly
than yinister—
in all of their
consummate
cosmology;
I am both wave
and particle—
not to mention
a warm, fuzzy
beast of love
in the sack!…
a macrocosm of
nothingness,
a microcosm of
all—
epistemologically
speaking,
I’m just your
average, everyday,
peasant, avatar,
Svengali, bastard beanhead,
spewing forth an
over-cooked
and
under-digested feast of
pseudo-psycho-literary-babble…
If you were to
take away
the prurient
essence of
my underlying
corporeity,
I’d be nothing
but a stray thought—
alea jacta est…
I suppose it’s
really rather like
what Descartes
was always saying:
“I don’t know
anything about anything…
but I know this—
ready or not,
here I come!”
The
Ass Poem (a sonnet)
Needs must I assay, with
utmost assertion,
Her assets, all, were of the
finest display—
Yet must I assert, her
fairest ascription
Follows her about in the
most pleasing way.
To assess from behind—the
soul doth ascend!—
Demands an assiduous
aspiration;
An assurgent assurance that,
in the end,
Assents to an assize of
asseveration!
To assort such an aspect,
yet not offend—
For easily may your assigns
go astray—
Let not your emotions be
astir, my friend,
And, with a subtle
assuagement, survey;
So ascetic I must be—or it’s
harassment, you see…
Ah, if only she could know
how much her ass meant to me!
CANTO I: Bohemian Rhapsody
They don’t
care…
most of them
don’t even know—
how could
they?…
Why should
they?…
But if they
did,
they still
wouldn’t—
the bastards!—
and that’s the
whole point,
then, isn’t
it!…
Drifting
through a silent fog
of solitary
existence…
floating atop
the fetid quagmire
of a reality
that goes nowhere…
stagnating in
the mucky-muck-muck
of the
fucky-fuck-fucked-up
society of
barbarous being…
ever dragging
me down
to unacceptable
and exciting
new depths of
degradation….
I writhe…
I wallow…
I slither all
about
as if yet
shedding my scales
for flesh and
hair and nails,
dragging
myself along the shore
to the
subterfuge of evolution
in the
tree-tops…
day chases
night
into summer
chasing winter—
but a flash of
light,
a shroud of
darkness,
a flush of
warmth,
a shriek of
cold…
the centuries
fade away
into ages and
eons,
and all that
never changes
is the
delusion
we have
progressed—
that we have
become more
than the animals
we once were…
—we are yet,
and shall
always be,
the primitives
we started off as…
it is only the
act
of pretending
to be appalled
by our savage
natures
that has
become more elaborate….
We are but
actors,
feigning
sainthood
as we revel in
sin…
enslaved to
the burdens
of
corporeity….
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Links
to other websites:
Authors:
Schick Happens
– The Genealogy of Michael E. Schick
FNCNE
Foundry Networks Certified Network Engineer
–
Jon Fullmer
James Goi, Jr. – Author, Speaker, Mind
Power Coach
Kinematics
of Inertial Navigation Systems – Mikhail Ivanovich Zakharin (no relation…)
A Place
With No Name – Shannon Lynette
Other:
http://www.geocities.com/ldahlke/ - Actor, musician Larry
Dahlke
http://www.jamesfullmer.com/ - The Art of James H.
Fullmer
http://www.onebrickmusic.com/ - One Brick Music
http://www.linkoncenter.com/ web-search site
http://www.zepti.com/ web-search site
http://www.societydirectory.org/ web-search site
http://www.oy-map.net/ web-search site
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V l a d i m i
r M a y a k o v s k y
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