Archive for August, 2018

Shtange, Irina Dmitrievna (1906-1992) - Tri Gracii

 

I ask him why men like looking at naked women,

the more,

the better.

“It’s primal…” his slurred reply,

jaw gaping,

“and inspiring.”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Preacher’s preaching, TV.

You don’t understand the message

but you know it’s important,

the organ’s playing, emotive.

You put your hands on the TV screen

and believe.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

If.

A very short

and painful word,

laden with possibility

and loss,

perfidy.

If…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

TV_ Lost Signal

 

I am your guilty pleasure,

by me do you measure,

hope, desire

and your inadequacies

(contrasting what you would like to be

with your fears,

and your reality…

limited by yourself

and others,

expectations bright,

hollow

and blight…

shame,

indulgent,

self-loathing…

you slump,

personally defamed).

Guilt-trip,

complex,

cerebral and banal.

I am your guilty pleasure.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Falling

 

Life.

Daily grind.

Society dictates,

complicates,

mandates.

Life.

Gradually,

slowly,

I pull myself up again,

in order to fall once more.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

Krichat ot boli (Screaming, noise assualt)

 

I’m trying to hear the voice within,

words sweet, nourishing and wise,

but too many voices without

are clamoring,

jabbering,

deafening

the vibe.

What hope,

enlightenment?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Day after day

we fade away,

perpetually

compromised.

Each breath

another expression

of life

become death.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Роза (Roza)

 

Tired and abused,

manipulated and confused,

fragile I remain.

Delicate,

like a rose petal,

I …

… radioactive isotope.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Alone in the crowd,

tired of life, not belonging,

they eat me for lunch.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Золотая пыль (Gold Dust)

 

At any given time,

I will carry 25 Kopeks

as, I know,

regardless of when and where,

it will be enough

to take me home.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat