Archive for the ‘Устала’ Category

Towel Thrown In, Boxing Ring

Tired of life,

it shows on his face.

Where once was joy and hope,

now not a trace.

Efforts to progress spat upon,

time and toil,

disappointment, betrayal,

all takes a toll.

(For this he was born?)

A world of hurt and pain,

exploitation and compromise,

where nothing is real or pure,

and everything is lies.

Futility and despair,

soul broken beyond repair.

Everything good has faded,

the future is oblivion,

welcome to jaded.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Mirny

Every day: progress,

yes!

The hole gets bigger, deeper.

Problems, imposed and happenstance,

pile up, front, center, side,

more and more to do

each new tomorrow,

hope and decimation.

Progress,

yes,

reasons to keep breathing.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1

Perpetual motion …

That thing you did yesterday,

must be done again.

… Banal “joys” apparently

never end.

 

(To be continued…)

               

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Usury (Albrecht Dürer, 1494)

From birth, they bombard us with images and ideas:

This is what you want! This is what you desire!

They pretend that you should aspire:

There are ways and means of buying things, like happiness!

This is what makes life worth living.

Are you willing to be a member of society?

Good! Welcome, Consumer…

Unspoken rules, prices to pay

loans, usury,

slavery.

Sign your name in blood,

pledge your allegiance now,

Enjoy. Drink a Coke or five.

And please remember:

keep you hands and feet within the vehicle at all times,

and that

your insurance policy does not cover suicide.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Ustala, Kafe

Tired, lost interest…

That thing which mattered so much,

become as if dust.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Ch 7, USA

I’m worn out, drained,

I’ve had enough…

When are you going to go back

to being

peripheral?

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1

Sometimes… You’re sure of your brilliance,

scintillating wisdom obvious.

Sometimes… Banality tips the balance,

and you realize yourself an empty vessel,

drained by drudgery,

as you grope in the dark,

no hope …

… What chance light switch?

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Waves On Beach

Like a machine gun, relentless,

they keep coming.

Even things we like

become contemptible

when they’re relentless.

Like

time, Emails,

wave after wave,

endless repeat.

 

©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

 

 

 

 

 

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