Archive for the ‘Вид’ Category

baikal

Hope and *Believe*

in Miracles.

Because, what else do we have to grasp?

Cleopatra’s asp and fear?

No! … Despair sucks us down.

I know it’s so,

as pain persists,

but, if and when you can,

resist.

And believe in *some* kind of miracle,

a possibility,

whatever your mind’s eye can muster.

Look beyond the horizon:

see epiphany and bliss.

Then turn inward, friend,

intimate, honest, candid,

and speak to God.

Cry,

speak and listen.

Commune

with

Peace.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Georgii Brousentsov - Au bord de l'eau

I see art,

and it’s beautiful.

The creation is truly a sensation!

But I understand what most men see,

on the wall,

in their souls,

and what they feel…

Base arousal.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Pinochet & Friends

Nothing seems to motivate people

(and evil)

quite like the prospect of wealth

and power.

Treason against self and collective,

“better angels” left to piss in wind.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Rus, Aloe

Wet towel falls away,

exposes soft white body,

life manifest, craved.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

princess Eugenie 1

Sex sells

(and who’s buying?)…

Sex sells

products,

souls, dollars,

holes.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Femen in Tunisia

The glasses are slightly fogged up,

smeared, vision blurred.

Perfect!

Too clear a view of people is

perturbing.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Pacific (Tikhiy)

Allison Guyot?

A beautiful sounding name,

Pacific Ocean bliss,

I want to go,

metaphysical

holiday.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Wm in City Admires View, Takes Off Dress

Socialite, sociopath,

cradle to grave,

life depraved,

public entertained,

expectations fulfilled.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

yekaterina katnikova

Serendipitously I slide

into the sweet visage…

Forgetting that which may have been;

imagining what could be…

Hurtling out of

and in to

control.

Screw probability,

maybe

this is where I’m meant to be.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

It is either extremely beautiful,

or decayed and squalid,

in this light, it is hard to tell.

Shadows dance on the walls,

ornate and cared for,

forgotten relic,

passion dictates,

eyes deceive.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat