Archive for the ‘Меланхолия’ Category

Broken 3

I do, but I don’t.

I will, but I won’t.

Conflicted and afflicted,

do you think I like being this way?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Black Square, Grunge Frame

Blank page, joyful thing.

Endless possibilities…

Limited by state.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Hot Air Balloon 1

Melancholy pervades today’s celebration.

Constant fragility.

Memories of yesterday,

betrayal and pain,

shaping tomorrow.

What hope?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Away_ Wm c Suitcase

We’re on the same page,

a sense of deliberate disconnectedness from present time & place

(which, to me it is clear, we can’t positively change).

It’s nice, while it lasts,

remembering the past,

acknowledging the hopelessness of the present

by extension.

Until she gets back to today,

torment and strain,

and like a TV preacher,

humanistic,

she declares

we need

to

“make it happen”!

Inside, I walk away.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

2014.01.29

Nothing is impossible,

it seems,

except improvement

of situation.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1459

With cynical pessimism,

pervading futility

and innate despair,

I embark on each new day…

Gloomily.

Reluctantly.

Somehow, however,

deep within, I feel,

miraculously,

things, ultimately,

will be okay.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

privichka_grizt_seba

Where once there was possibility,

now there is misery.

Life.

Hope.

Memories.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

9.24 Pregnant Wm & Girl

It used to be

that seeing and hearing such things

intrigued, stimulated,

inspired me.

Now, instead, they mock

and scorn,

reminding me of things that should have been,

of bloody reality,

and treacheries that broke my heart.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Surgut, Storm Looms

Tired and forlorn,

every day seems

a perfect storm.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Stroitelstvo-v-Sulazhgore (Karelia)

Right day, wrong year…

*Fuck, shit, suck!*

Another year older

and wiser…

And how I realize

Winter’s are too short!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat