Archive for the ‘Память’ Category

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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

 

 

 

 

 

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Op Priboi Vagon

Somebody’s dream,

blissful, ethereal view.

Another’s nightmare,

living, solidly true.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

2019-08-25_01-48-17

We were waiting (for Godot?),

so he asked me about myself,

specifically, my history.

“My history?

Well, it’s complicated and it’s dirty,

alas,

but isn’t everybody’s?”

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

BDM

Sometimes, abject meaninglessness slaps me in the face.

Like celebrating someone else’s dream.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1945. Manhattan Project_ Thin Man & Fat Man Casings

Thin Man.

Fat Man.

Dead man.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Kolkhoz, Zima

Dead cows,

unnatural selection,

live long in memory.

Cats eat, caress

and breed.

The good ones, feral and bright

carefully bury their shit,

clawing even frozen ground.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Ivan Shadr, v1

Women, men,

deep and shallow,

we all want to be liked,

appreciated,

ultimately desired.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

6.16

Remembering Wien.

The saddest-happiest I’ve ever been.

Haunted by memories,

infinite bad dreams,

I walk by the river…

Cold winds

suppress my scream.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Erich Honecker

These days, I find much comfort

sitting on my hands,

palms up.

Remembering

his enigmatic pseudo-smile,

Mona Lisa flip-side.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat