Dare To Dream…

Dare to dream!

Yes, beautiful moments,

tantalizing hope,

before you get crushed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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State Of the State, and Its Impact On You

Blank page, joyful thing.

Endless possibilities…

Limited by state.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Wrong Question, Wrong Time?

I may have known the answer,

but that was yesterday.

Today I am confused and overcome

by feelings of futility.

I therefore try to forget the question

and its implications,

burdens I cannot now take.

… Inside,

I walk away.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Wavelengths… (We See & Feel Things Differently)

Everybody but me

seems intrinsically happy,

satisfied,

moods improved by sunshine and warmth.

This apparent reality depresses me even more,

isolated,

feeling nauseous to the core,

violated.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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As the Sun Rises, My Heart Sinks (aka La désenchantée)

Where once there was possibility,

now there is misery.

…

Life.

Hope.

Memories.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Present & Future *Tense*… Today & Yesterday, All Seems Futility

Sometimes,

an overwhelming futility feeling

washes over me

and I lose all energy,

all sense of possibility…

the future is foreboding,

no point in continuing,

no point in anything,

beyond this present moment…

I lie on the floor,

detach,

it’s all I have

and all I can expect.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Time Was… Poignancy Is.

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

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Dark Days

Another day, dull and suffocating,

where the only thing light

is the rain,

in between

heavy downpours.

…

Contradictions,

hard-luck

and compromises.

My soul bleeds.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Reasons For Treason (v1)

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

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Thanksgiving In the Face Of Misery

In retrospect,

I’m glad I wasn’t born

an Ovechkin.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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