Archive for the ‘Мысли на день’ Category

Otto Mueller_ Tänzerin mit Schleier, 1903 v2

Tuesday, I was briefly happy.

In 1875, I was not yet born.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Hamster Wheel 1

Chasing after something that doesn’t exist…

Lasting happiness.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Starry Night Sky, Trees (Rus)

Winter night.

I go out and look at the sky.

Stars abundant and bright.

I’m impressed, as always,

natural wonderment at firmament,

but distracted, as artificial flashing lights

catch my eye. … Aircraft.

And the moment is lost.

Now, all I can focus on

is the banal, the human where and why.

(Where are they going, and why? …

As if this fallen world is so great!)

I am glad, at least, that human travel in space is minimal

and am mindful enough to pray it remains so.

For, where people go,

they tend to destroy,

exploit,

desecrate.

Even in their dreams.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

NSK 2016.05.01_ Pos s vami

When *things* seem to lose meaning,

when inversion and perversion become the norm,

when figureheads disgrace themselves,

when one set of money and power fights another,

when the people (the masses, so as to say) are spat-upon pawns…

It’s OK, don’t despair, turn on the TV,

go online, browse Twitter…

There are myriad experts who will tell you what to think,

what to believe, what to know,

self-proclaimed experts who delight in the cacophony of confusion…

No, no, it isn’t true, it’s all delusion:

Elvis, indeed, has left the building.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

 

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My sinuses were blocked, my head sore.

Amongst the dizziness and fog…

I gradually remembered Ronald Reagan asking whether I believed in reincarnation, or not, and postulating that he, in a past life, may well have been the man who invented the shield (hubristic prick!).

I rubbed my forehead, grimaced, and, yes, there I was, amongst the Hittites, for a time, bloody and forgotten.

No… Please.

Indeed, I shook my head as it dawned, sunrise, another long day ahead, hiking and sailing on the Baltic coast. My fiancée looked so dashing, in 1910.

Exposed, I sweated, nonetheless.

19… 20.

Soon, the fever would break,

and reality, hopefully,

fade away.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

9.01

Yet again, the promise far exceeds delivery,

disappointment manifest.

Hope rises and sets

like a distant star

in a lost galaxy.

It gets harder to even try…

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Sea Idyll_ Sorolla, 1908

We ate and we smiled.

Later, deep conversation.

And then I woke up.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

9.10

He asked if he could take me to lunch,

say,

a café.

That’s a waste of money, I replied,

and besides, I’d rather eat under a tree,

fresh air and sound of bees.

Make something and bring it to me.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1985.11 Geneva 2

Spaced out, I took the book from the shelf.

I lay on the floor and started reading.

Always looking for insight, even now…

alas,

I had confused Goncharov

with Gorbachev.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Isr_ Egged (Jerusalem)

I told him that things for me

were something like the Karamazov family.

Really?

Yes, well, different time, setting and situation,

but otherwise, very similar angst,

alas, unhappy intrigue.

He raised his eyebrows

as the bus arrived.

We let the soldiers get on before us.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat