Archive for the ‘Устала’ Category

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,


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…)








Ustala, Kafe

Tired, lost interest…

That thing which mattered so much,

become as if dust.


(To be continued…)








Ch 7, USA

I’m worn out, drained,

I’ve had enough…

When are you going to go back

to being


(To be continued…)









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…)








Waves On Beach

Like a machine gun, relentless,

they keep coming.

Even things we like

become contemptible

when they’re relentless.


time, Emails,

wave after wave,

endless repeat.








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,


it’s yesterday.









Is this some kind of realization,

a real-life manifestation

of a dream come true?

If so,

I want to go back to sleep.








1 (Pain)

It was a long night

but not long enough,

unable to sleep,

mind racing,

injustice and pain,


too late.








Ge-Rus Road Closed, Snow

I’m functional, determinedly.

But gradually, and suddenly

I hit the wall,

so as to say,

I crash,

maybe avalanche.








A long day.

I worked hard,

I did as expected

and directed.

It was a good day,

they tell me,


and well done.

… My soul, alas,


the destructive.