Today, they convert you
to their perverted way of thinking,
seducing,
enticing
and delighting certain tendencies.
(Clever, addictive storylines on your TV & computer screen…)
They inhabit and take over,
your soul and being,
leaving no space or desire
for resistance.
(Indeed, I wonder which evil was worse, and how:
then or now…)
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
In our own time,
in our own way,
ultimately
victory!
…
So rich and rewarding
when you see fruition.
Bucking the preponderant vibe.
…
Have hope, friend,
comrade,
tomorrow
is not today.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
If there’s a knock on the door
and your spirit within bristles
and your soul curdles:
don’t answer it,
especially if the knocking’s insistent.
Instead, hide.
Imagine the worst, that’s always the best…
Imagine for certain,
it’s Chekists at the door,
and know, they don’t want your co-operation,
they want your pain.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Mutually Assured Destruction.
Perversely, it’s a beautiful thing.
Sorting the elemental from the superfluous.
And I am glad I made a stand,
rejecting the temporal,
even though it meant pillory,
exclusion
and prison.
After all…
what good is your big house,
your refrigerator, your 200cm TV,
your child, or life insurance policy,
when an ICBM hits your city?
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
OK, I guess I’d stopped thinking about them,
for the sake of sanity,
but now I am reminded,
and I revisit the details,
deep into the silo,
and… it’s mind-blowing.
Such might, power, prowess and hubris.
Yet, our buildings are crumbling
and our people are lacking.
… Truly, we are motivated by destruction.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
The month flew by
like an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile,
thrust into Space,
an affront to God,
burned up on re-entry.
Time, gone.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
They told me he wasn’t as vulgar as LBJ,
or,
as lecherous as JFK.
Indeed.
Nevertheless, in his own way…
…
When I walked into the office the chief was berating the intelligent-looking guy:
“For Christ’s sake, Henry, think big! Let’s get nuclear, goddammit!”
Mortified at the blasphemy, involuntarily I laughed.
Bemused, they looked through me, a woman,
an open door.
©SvetkaSamizdat
…
Slavery,
Exploitation,
Death.
Exposed,
in the hash light
of the dark side of the Moon.
…
My beautiful swan-like neck
is of little effect.
©ddr7hd
…
Lies slip from her lips
like water down a mountainside.
Slick rock face.
Summer thunder storm.
Slippery slope
to doom.
…
It was a tumultuous time,
with few moments of comfort.
…
He asked his grandfather to record a TV program: Great Russian Writers, the Anton Chekhov episode.
His grandfather asked if he was a Communist.
He didn’t get it.
…
