Dress for success, they told me,

appearance count (deceive),

get the job (done).

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I hear things, I see things,

inside, outside society,

even from my prison cell.

Like, drunken, drugged fools,

all too clear,

the more public the better,

idiots

(and this is *living*!?) ….

Apparently they have no fear of Kompromat.

Perhaps they have “nothing to lose”

(can it really be, so many people thus?),

near and far from home.

As for me, by choice, I always drank alone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You watch the TV show,

much like the evening news:

in the name of engagement,

they lie.

In the name of pain relief,

you buy.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

Comrade Stalin was speaking to me,

through time and space,

poetic soul,

another voice,

saying:

let the cloud dweller be.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Fuck you and your election (!)

your protest march,

your commentary.

“Progressive”, “conservative”,

exploiters and oppressors all!

Fuck your democracy,

function and form,

your hollow ideas of society,

the machinery,

benefiting the few,

screwing the masses,

deluding and coercing,

sucking dry.

Let me be,

me.

Peace and sanity.

Deal with the weather.

Forecast history.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sick joke.

After the deluge, flood,

gut-wrenching damage,

heart-broken people,

sunshine has the temerity to break through,

shine.

I grimace in the glare.

What solace?

Perverted grace.

Salt.

… Mockery and farce.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

As I pace in my cell,

forwards and backwards,

I consider,

imagining myself somewhere and someone

else.

Imagine… Like an American.

Way of life.

Today.

Planet Earth.

Some women give birth.

Progress.

Glacial.

Nonetheless, progress.

If I had a therapist,

they would be impressed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

O, Katyusha,

what was (so beautiful!)

and what could have been

(more and beyond!)

gone,

like the rocket’s red glare,

high

in the night sky.

(O, how I wanna go back!

And forward, somehow…)

But alas,

I’m so sad,

the ship has apparently sailed.

And I am alone,

and feeling

incomplete,

without you.

All I can do is stare into space,

imagining that you are too.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Oozing with a sense of injustice,

every painful step, my feet feel bruised, pummelled, they throb.

Every glimpse out the window, a stab in the heart,

a reminder,

a betrayal.

Inconsiderate, self-absorbed, hateful humanity.

Perfidy takes many forms,

my friend,

strangers and fucked-up families.

The unending end.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I read, see and hear the news.

Ugly, alleged truths,

incomplete stories,

manipulation,

confusion and pain.

I feel the need to be informed

but

I want to run away.

I need something different.

I want to embrace beauty.

I need to see art,

everyday.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat