So,

no, it doesn’t rank highly

in the annals of catastrophe,

as recorded and studied by humanity,

morbid posterity.

… Few people know

and most have forgotten.

But to you it is everything

… it shaped your very being.

357 fatalities,

including

me.

Good night and sweet dreams,

beautiful child.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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… Like when,

young and up too late,

you fall asleep in front of the TV set,

and subconsciously imbibe,

transcribe,

all of the nastiness

in the worst possible way.

Frightened,

you awake.

… Tomorrow’s hope disintegrates.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Full of shit to overflowing,

just like everybody else.

But the voices and faces

“we” elevate,

are gifted obscene riches,

for their words,

to the herd,

and influential ways.

Alas, strange days.

People and morals perverted.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

These things you do,

great effort and toil,

all a farce,

alas,

considering tomorrow

you will lie

under grass.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

That’s history,

you realize,

as you flush it down the toilet.

All is history,

truth flies.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Is it a dream, a memory,

or a premonition?

There’s a tap at the door

(more so a hatch).

You grope in the darkness,

find the latch and open.

The flashlight shines in,

blinds you.

Yes, there is light,

but does it help you see?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I eat the jar of fine French pâté,

fully and completely,

decadent but necessary.

Depleted, I need energy.

I savor every bite.

I consider the best before date,

3 years hence,

and think of the Armageddon bunker

I theoretically may be stocking:

yes, Terrine de Caille,

avec Raisins.

Functional finery.

Yes, to life and taste, in all settings.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Waiting,

still waiting,

forlornly,

for the adults to act like adults,

consistently,

rationally,

compassionately.

… Really,

do we ever stop being petty children?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You listen to them and are immediately engaged:

Intelligent voices, perceptive.

You listen some more and gradually realize

how stupid in fact they actually are.

… Brainwashed wannabes:

talkative parakeets,

lauded by a society,

on a road to destruction.

Spouting words, no real comprehension,

elucidating idiocy,

eliciting

nodding audience proficiency.

… Messages of love,

laced with hate.

(*Agree, or die!*)

… Really,

must we accept this “fate”?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

If.

Small word,

big meaning.

If only…

Implications immense,

future, past,

present.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat