Archive for the ‘Печали’ Category


It’s a bad design. The kind of thing that makes one wish for a simple, old rotary dial phone.

The answering machine. To listen again to the newest message, he has to sift through the old ones. For him, this is a definite stumbling block. Reminders of all those past chances and disappointments, promises and lies. Snippets of voices long-since gone, people who never properly said goodbye.

But the here and now obliges him to dredge through this past, he needs to confirm the number she left.

Wryly he smiles: reminded that the past, given a chance by the present, always threatens the future.

Tonight he will be haunted.


(To be continued…)








1349 a

All the progress in the world,

laid low by a “primitive” life-form,


Hubris and gimmicks, smart-phones and 5G,

futility, filth, shit and piss.


Death, despair and chaos reign,

as in 1349.


(To be continued…)








Dead Flowers (2)

Another day,

another “holiday”,

another political, money-making opportunity.

Somebody gains

from flowers and captivity.

… Cynicism reigns.


(To be continued…)










Barriers imposed to slow,

or prevent our progress.

… After a while, even the strongest will fall …

Neverending obstacles, take a toll.

How many hurdles can we take

before we break?


(To be continued…)








Birobidzhan, 1999 (2)

The neighbors take great delight in broadcasting

the progression of their happiness,

their version of fulfillment,

for everyone to see.

“Aren’t they doing well?” “Good for them!”

Ostentatious scum!

The sweetness of their hollow success is magnified by my sad bitterness.


(To be continued…)








Nyurnbergskaya Khronika_ Edit Sol'

Lies, damned lies, baloney and innuendo…

Regardless, shit sticks, as they say in the classics,

or is it just me, spinning my wheels.

… O’ futility!

(Is this my lot?)


(To be continued…)








Surok, 1987

As rain continues to falls in torrents

and my faith disintegrates,

negative acceptance gives

a slither of grim comfort:

he hates us

and wants us to suffer.

And then what?

It’s not as if I can rely on nature or humanity.


(To be continued…)








Сёстры печали

Another year, another problem

or ten, all at once.

Another day,

another construct to negotiate,

another thing to complicate and violate

my soul,

seeming, disintegrating hole.

Another morning,

another voice in my head,

confusing and accusing,

intruding, condemning.

(Internal, external,

screws tightening!)

Another storm wind blowing,

another drought,

another rain deluge in the wrong place.

Another tragedy, another strife,

another agony, another injustice,

another smothering of life.

Tired, so drained,

I’m ready to give up,


another countless baby is born.


(To be continued…)








TVs, Old-Stlye & Green Screens

She obsesses over how the female body is portrayed,

she’s a mother, she worries about her daughters.

“Television,” the Producer says definitively,

“Should be a reflection of real life.”

Really? I ask,

Who would watch that?

… Or, conversely, if TV does reflect “real life”,

what a *really* messed up world we live in!

Either way: how sad.


(To be continued…)









Preacher’s preaching a message the people like, it suits the mood of the times, indeed, everybody wants to move beyond condemnation and guilt.

I feel it. I get it. I understand it. Grace and forgiveness, the Love of God manifest, a new Covenant. Yes!

And yet, strongly within, experience and wisdom are speaking to me, over-riding the emotion.

Then, Preacher cites the example of no speed limit on German Autobahns. And it’s over for me.

(Americans and their obsession with liberty!)

I shout at the TV: “And they used to have free-season on Jews too! But that doesn’t make it right!”

Wisdom speaks to me, it’s innate and overwhelming, the world would be a better place if actually more people were aware of and compelled by feelings of condemnation and guilt. They might actually stop being so self-centered and act in the common good, considering others, abiding by the “Golden Rule”.

This is my angst-ridden seasonal and timeless message.

Take it as you will.


(To be continued…)