Archive for the ‘Да, я понимаю’ Category

Juno

I’m still in the hotel room, watching TV.

They tell me it’s the 75th Anniversary of *The Event*:

we must celebrate, commemorate our heroes,

focus (pocus), indeed

the few that are still alive.

They died for our liberty,

apparently,

albeit contradictory.

Living or dead, I *do* respect the sacrifice

of soldiers and sailors,

defying logic, following orders,

call of duty, the greater good,

hell on earth,

collective imperative

(yes, even yours).

But 75 is nothing

if 76 is not honored ten times more.

Sadly, alas, I know this will not be so.

Just as I know real heroes were treated like shit

at war’s end.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

10 Kopek Coins (1930s & 40s)

 

If it’s meaningful to you,

it *is* invaluable,

carry it forward

heart and soul,

forever.

The opinion of others

is worthless…

(worth less, indeed,

10 Kopeks!)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

10 Kopek, 1989

 

You carry around the currency

of a lost country,

of an entity

which doesn’t exist anymore.

Because it is you.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Yamal, 2009 (2)

 

Well,

it’s not as if you have the crushing weight

of Arctic pack ice on your shoulders.

So, exhale and relax.

Viva perspective,

context.

So says the ass

who doesn’t know

or appreciate

what you’re going through:

The pain in your brain,

the panic which consumes every

cell of your body and being,

the total torment,

so far beyond what any

nuclear-powered icebreaker

could surmount.

Perhaps,

I understand.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

If you want the question answered,

*that* is not the question to ask.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

The villagers were happy,

today was a respite

after last night’s storm.

A chance to repair

the damage and destruction

wrought by the howling winds.

What fortune (!),

today the Sun even shines,

indeed moods rise,

as they prepare to batten down the hatches

for, tomorrow or the next day,

another storm cometh.

Commendable, stupid people,

they are functional.

… I am but a philosopher,

a futility phobic,

screaming myself to sleep:

“Let me off this fucking boat!”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Revisionist history:

different emphasize,

sometimes lies.

Like, the smug guy,

who talks of Lenin’s Siberian slave girl,

kept in a cage

beneath the stairs.

Depths,

depths

of despair!

Alas, Pasha,

I knew you.

Public misled

misrepresentations,

blatant lies.

But it’s on TV and he’s ‘an expert’,

so it becomes true.

Perverted mystery,

bias and blasphemy,

revisionist history.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

She asked me what I had been doing.

Reading and learning, I replied.

“What?”

I scanned my mind, trying to pin down the essential pieces of knowledge,

the wisdom,

obscured by the clutter of information,

open to interpretation.

“Uhhh…

That the truth is buried somewhere within the lies.”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You see what you wanna see,

yes, I agree,

when I hear what I wanna hear.

(Let me be!)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I wait for a smile,

some hope.

… I get nothing

but hurt.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat