Archive for the ‘Dom Knigi’ Category

Outside, I approached the car.

Inside, he watched carefully.

Slowly, he wound the window down.

I could hear Nautilus Pompilius playing,

one track transitioned into another,

a homemade cassette.

I smiled inwardly.

I knew we would have something to talk about.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I dreamt I was someone else,

or maybe myself, in another time and place.

I was deep in conversation about the merits of the USSR approach.

“USSR approach to what? Global politics, internal economy, sporting success?” I wondered, wordlessly.

Meandering through neural pathways,

the answer formed like the wind crying

Mariya.

Literature.

Concentration,

Appreciation,

Peace.

Welcome to 1986.

 

©ddr7hd

 

Define dream.

Define reality.

Somewhere in New York City,

on a TV set,

in a room,

a state of mind,

beyond Brighton Beach…

Somewhere,

sometime,

a grandiose statement was made

about destiny shaking hands with history.

… Really?

Like, wow!

And, how…

And, this production was brought to you by the ghosts of Leni Riefenstahl and Rosa Luxemburg.

Read, kids, read, believe and intercede!

 

I struggle through the days,

to get to the nights,

so that I can drink beer,

get naked,

get… well, I’m always introspective,

and justifiably sleep.

Desperate attempt to find

detached,

numb bliss.

Such is life these days,

for as long as I remember,

I need to escape the bondage of society.

Goodnight.

It is time, as they say in the classics,

to let my girls go free.

 

Time and place, bending the prisms, I say some strange things, open to misunderstanding. Society doesn’t like subversion and dissent, even inspired promptings of the Holy are subject to arrest.

Don’t you fear the gulag? The things I’ve seen and heard…

Shit, no, I’ve seen “Oz”, I fear America!

 

When you don’t like the name you were given,

or the role assigned by “fate”,

sometimes,

sometimes,

when the time is apt

(new wave, vanguard rides),

you can choose your own path,

within the radical system,

and be

a functionary,

anonymous to the masses

(now, allow yourself a self-satisfied smile),

part of the new ruling class,

a righteous cog,

essential pillar,

Apparatchik.

 

I have a soulmate.

I had a soulmate?

I remember the beautiful years and days when we were close.

Poetic and sublime, words don’t suffice.

Beautiful.

Bliss.

Sigh.

Then time and people, situations and circumstance,

messed things up,

sullied and discordant,

and an awkward, spasmodic communiqué

became our way.

Tomorrow is her Birthday

and I want to give her my all,

to tell her I love her, madly and deeply,

but there is a distance and a barrier,

so all I can do is give her a few words.

Insufficient and frustrating.

Such is life,

Katyusha.

C’est la vie,

fucked and pained.

In between the signs, hand-made placards: “Nothing makes loneliness more beautiful than schizophrenia” and “I’m a simple Martian and attack what I see”, God smiled, pleased with His creation, made in His image, and creative in turn.

At the other end of the human spectrum, the police (always eager to please their man-made masters) arrested some of the marchers.

“Oh, the humanity!” a dog growled.

In the future, when we meet.

Let’s make it *not* in a café – a waste of money, and too loud.

Let’s make it a PowerBar and a walk on a mountain trail,

a hike if you like,

or a city park.

A can of Monster between us.

Bliss.

Then we can talk: deeply and meaningfully, changing the world,

yesterday and tomorrow,

one piece of poetry or prose at a time.

 

Yes, I know it could be said that I’m “spinning my wheels”, so as to say. I feel it too, and it is most frustrating. Confusing fragments, life, death, memories, and strands of in/sanity. Soon though, I’ve got to believe, something will click, in a good way, and things will come together. Yes, believe.