Глава 2201: Trinkets & Broken Relationships

He seemed to think that an object would make all the difference;

failing to realize I was not “into” bourgeois accoutrements,

trinkets, to save a relationship.

 

(To be continued…)

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Chapter 159: Sand To Go

Something within, from so far away,

like I’ve swallowed a piece of meteorite,

it remains, feels like it belongs,

as providence,

yes,

this is *me*,

defying “logic” and people’s sneers,

free, uncontainable

as sand to go, evolve,

beyond time and place,

surmounting rhyme and reason …

Marching to the beat of a different drum.

 

(To be continued…)

       

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Chapter 111: Joy Of Knowledge, Manifest

In truly great debates,

yesterday and today,

both sides point fingers,

and preach, sanctimonious.

Through passion and “better angels”,

the introspective, true lovers of knowledge,

however,

are prepared to listen,

go back to the books,

and learn.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Such Is Thus…

I’m stuck! (What the fuck?)

Lost in myriad of pain.

Thus, I write Haiku.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

So, You Pray…

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

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Lady Liberty Speaks

I’m not envious of your success,

your riches are an irrelevance,

your existence meaningless.

I hate you

and your ease of being,

nonetheless,

I don’t want your things.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

My Hope

My refuge,

sanity sanctuary,

enclave of peace

and enlightenment.

My hope.

…

Desperate,

stranded in desert,

my hands claw through the dead sands,

I try to move on,

try to see once again,

the oasis.

My hope.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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Potato, Potahto. Golubtsy, Gołąbki.

 

In no particular order…

You say Golubtsy,

I say Gołąbki.

You eat in a café,

I eat out of a jar.

Nevertheless, we talk…

We walk…

You say Europe,

I say Eurasia.

You say Pan-Slavism,

I say parasitism.

You say Australia,

I say Austria.

Very well,

OK,

Let’s get married.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

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