Archive for the ‘Страдание’ Category

B-52 Refuelling

Those heavy airplanes, droning loudly,

an American told me it’s the sound of freedom, rejoice!

I don’t.

Once the noise from above gets into your head,

it gets into your everything,


a horrible, visceral kind of rape,

a violation of body and mind.

Cacophonous, staccato, adagio,

and droning,


and all-encompassing

deep, intensive, droning.

On and on they fly.

How many can there be?

What are they carrying?

Cargo, bombs, materiel?

Where are they going?

Fighting terrorism?


My head throbs.

I hate the present, I fear the future.

On and on, the droning goes.

This is the sound of tyranny.

*This* is terrorism.


(To be continued…)









NZ_ Rotorua

Hope springs eternal (so they say).

Or, at least, it tries to.

But when our experience tells us otherwise,

threshold crossed,

overwhelmed by betrayal and lies,

that part inside, bleeding, dies.

We don’t want to be hurt anymore:

who can blame us for that?

… Hope springs, yes,

then spits in face,



Good bye.


(To be continued…)









Another woman, another time and place,

another version of me,

I need to be free,

my soul seared,

constantly chased,

I try to flee.

… Her withering glare of contempt.

(To be continued…)








Żyd wieczny tułacz

Past irrelevant:

we gave hearts, minds, love, blood, tears.

Mother of all lies.

(To be continued…)








Kara Daga, Krym


they don’t seem to mind making an enemy of me.

… One day they’ll be sorry.

Let me state clearly:

I write for the disenchanted, the hurting,

the violated, the betrayed.

I write for you.

I write for me.

(To be continued…)









Sometimes the vapidity of humanity,

the stupidity, the futility

of being in this time and space,

strikes you hard,

makes you inert.

… How, this life hurts.

(To be continued…)









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…)









Soon thereafter, however, the feeling fades. A new self-realization gradually and suddenly dawns.

The hit is actually shit.

But then, isn’t everything?

*Fuck this life and its baggage!*

Everything is pain!

(To be continued…)








Broken 3

I do, but I don’t.

I will, but I won’t.

Conflicted and afflicted,

do you think I like being this way?








8.10 Digitized Sky Survey

Yes, eager to do,

but cogs are sticking like glue.

Best intentions screwed.