Archive for the ‘Проницательность’ Category

If there’s a knock on the door

and your spirit within bristles

and your soul curdles:

don’t answer it,

especially if the knocking’s insistent.

Instead, hide.

Imagine the worst, that’s always the best…

Imagine for certain,

it’s Chekists at the door,

and know, they don’t want your co-operation,

they want your pain.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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She left me with attractive words,

the promise of peace and beautiful life…

Little did I know they would be her last words (to me),

and I would fall from orbit, so tumultuously.

My mother, my sister, my me,

bonne nuit…

Gone.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Last night’s sex,

tomorrow’s ex.

… Betrayal of sacred act,

sacrilege,

perfidy.

… Intimate enemy.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Busy,

congested,

shitty town

traffic’s misery,

trafficks despair.

Summer-time exploitation,

fake smiles

and peeling skin.

Kids & parents,

assholes & sock puppets.

Little girl looks up, asks:

Is this as good as it gets?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sometimes one more letter makes all the difference,

sometimes there’s no sitting on the fence.

Sometimes you wish things could go back

to the way they used to be,

before we knew we weren’t free,

supposedly,

alas. …

Indeed!

The politics of identity.

… Baloney

and imposed aspirations

make for crappy sandwiches at work

and confused kitchen table talk in the evenings.

Lest we regret, this is life.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Kaliningrad,

Valparaiso.

Frontline and trench, oasis,

Eingang und Ausgang,

voices and noise.

From our enclave we listen

and try to make sense

of

confusing world.

… Where to now?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Tired,

so tired.

The bright lights and late nights

have depleted my soul.

Yet, I continue to run,

compelled to escape,

exploitation and rape,

insurance selling con-artists,

corrupt cops and nasty nurses,

lies and

horse flies,

desperately seeking my fresh meat.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat