Archive for the ‘Тоска’ Category

6.16

Remembering Wien.

The saddest-happiest I’ve ever been.

Haunted by memories,

infinite bad dreams,

I walk by the river…

Cold winds

suppress my scream.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Nuclear Depth Bomb - USS Agerholm, 1962

Close, or

from a distance,

it’s hard to tell the difference.

Beginning or end,

enemy or friend.

Give it up,

pretense and defense,

succumb to inevitable,

depravity of senses,

depth charge

and obliteration.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Dozhd, Okno

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

 

 

 

 

 

1. Ru, By

Sometimes, when we wake,

in golden moments of desperation,

we grasp, in mind fog,

trying to remember,

where and when we are,

what responsibilities loom,

hoping, perhaps,

miraculously

it’s yesterday.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Lena, Yakutiya

Oh, the wonderful things I would do,

if I had time,

right mind,

yes, rewind too.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Rus, Aloe

Wet towel falls away,

exposes soft white body,

life manifest, craved.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Palmen am Meer_

She simpers and blows him a kiss.

(Some kind of idyll and bliss…)

He feels a tantalizing breeze on his cheek,

in his mind

he sees her…

*Fresh*,

fresh

as Palmen am Meer,

Tanzmusik aus Kambodscha.

… Schöne Tag,

1968.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Stromboli

Those were the days,

in some ways,

but let’s not exaggerate,

or deny the latent

and pervasive

hate.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Son

Is this some kind of realization,

a real-life manifestation

of a dream come true?

If so,

I want to go back to sleep.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

9.16 Malevich_ Black Square, 1913

So, you pray.

In all good & honest, believing

Faith,

you pray.

And still, yet more decay,

another set of problems, every day

emergencies.

So, you turn to people,

neighbors, friends,

you ask for help,

and silence.

People are busy with their own issues,

apparently, and dead to your needs.

Alas, you are all alone in this world,

stinging sensation,

on realization,

nauseous emptiness.

So, you pray again,

some kind of hope in your heart,

a glimmer of warmth,

you try to find,

it’s either that or suicide.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat