Archive for the ‘Страдание’ Category

It’s the most natural thing in the world,

he said,

to kneel on the soft, grassy ground.

… Indeed…

Still, your knees peel,

bleed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Anniversary’s are hard.

Yes, they keep you in touch,

like picking at a scab makes you bleed.

Pain rekindled.

And

they remind you of how little you’ve progressed.

And how fucked-up you really are (as they say).

Alas!

Remiss…

Blood and piss.

I guess it depends what your anniversary is.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Yes, things suck, I quite agree,

but it’s hard to imagine it being

any

other

way.

So, let me be…

In relative peace

and comparative security.

…Pseudo-free.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

Another day,

another pain.

Another week,

another bleak

outlook,

visceral pain,

as you watch your life gurgle away

down a clogged

bathroom drain.

Blood and hair,

existential despair.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

S/he talks a little,

detached, perfunctory,

I reply sufficiently

(no more).

I have no desire for a thaw,

I still hurt,

my wounds are open,

bleeding, …

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Compromised,

Decimated,

You struggle to speak,

Burevestnik.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Everyday,

perfidy.

And all the forgiveness you can muster

will not change what has been,

the evil committed,

the pain you feel every single day.

What is gone

and what is left.

The more you dig,

the bigger the hole.

Betrayed by family,

diminished humanity.

 

©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

 

You and I, we do our best,

we try

to do the right thing.

But everyone

and everything is against us,

(ourselves included).

… Hope springs eternal

For the deluded.

Indeed, history today…

I want to be still

and close my eyes,

meditate on another reality,

eschew fealty.

… Unfinished business…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

So, how are we to play?

Remembering the passage of time:

loss,

and lost,

flow and stagnation,

obscured reflection,

water in a dirty ditch.

The Chess set has fairly nice pieces,

but the board is so worn,

and I can’t forgive the missing pawn.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat