Archive for August, 2017

You ask me how I write.

Well…

and free.

A gift from God,

indeed.

A passion…

I listen to the voice within,

sometimes it sings.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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So, how are we to play?

Remembering the passage of time:

loss,

and lost,

flow and stagnation,

obscured reflection,

water in a dirty ditch.

The Chess set has fairly nice pieces,

but the board is so worn,

and I can’t forgive the missing pawn.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I was in a good place

until around you came,

with your crappy chess set,

making me play your game.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Too stark, she says,

this thing we have done,

contrasting bad and good,

replacing wrong with “right”…

revolutions and intentions.

Pause, reflect,

so much lost,

a relative black hole.

Indeed, we need to ameliorate,

find appropriate red paint,

restore our fate.

… Is it possible?

Tomorrow…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Wave of futility sweeps over me…

Kalahari iceberg melts,

washes my dreams away.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sport is a rort, these days.

If you wanna make it work

you have to play the game,

smile ambiguously,

entertain …

TV interview …

… Say the right things, at the right time,

in the appropriate sickly sweet voice,

and you’re in.

… You win!

Alas, shame I don’t speak American…

… Lingua Franca,

and discarded morality…

We dance for Dollars

and cents.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Shut the doors and windows,

Turn the TV off.

People confuse and distract,

like cataracts.

Silence child,

Listen within,

search wisdom,

meditate.

Your destiny awaits!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Something beautiful,

or at least I thought it was,

and/or wanted it to be.

Now tarnished,

sullied with hurt and pain.

Communication breakdown.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

It is.

It was.

And it is gone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

L’Chaim!

Gift of Life,

from God Almighty,

Spasiba.

Yes.

Reflect,

and rejoice

through your inner tears,

you exist! …

Celebrate, the ultimate:

you were born …

Happy Birthday, indeed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat