Archive for the ‘Eva the Historian’ Category

R Pipes 2

Well, let’s do our best tomorrow.

Like, c’est la vie, we can’t change history.

But, alas, the historian can.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

 

Protest re Demolition 2

(To the detractors and fashionable manipulators of history…)

You disgusting piece of shit!

Tell yourself the lie, if it helps you sleep at night.

Broadcast it in TV programs,

propagate your version of history

into “reality”.

And, furthermore, lie.

While I climb Sverdlovsk TV Tower

and, seeking truth,

dive.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Nazi Maedchen Suki

The megalomaniac is a democrat,

he/she/it wants to fuck as many lives

as will choose to be seduced.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

1459

Fellow traveler

got lost somewhere along the way.

Marginalized,

misinterpreted,

persecuted,

misunderstood.

More than anything,

I “just” wanted the world

to be

a better place.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Remembrance Day, they say, piously,

thankful, pretentiously,

that all is quiet on the Western Front.

The soldier reflects and sighs,

remembering history,

and what followed victory

in the “War To End All Wars”…

Some things are better forgotten.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

HMVS Cerberus, Musket Drills

So far, distant and perverse,

hysteria perverts.

Despite oceans of salt and bitterness,

cretins cling to loyalties, hatreds inbred.

Goodness, we never had,

the old days were just as bad.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Birgit Meineke, Daniela Übel

 

Hope evaporates

like yesterday’s tears of joy

besmirched by those who do not want to understand.

A trace of salt is all that remains.

Selah.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

55

 

Samantha Smith said

“They’re just like us.”

And we’re just like them.

Shit!

I was hoping for something better.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Green Ukraine

 

Green Ukraine,

there’s a story there,

but it’s probably not what you think.

Recycling, so as to speak,

messily,

history, people, land,

all apparently cheap.

Dreams of freedom,

distant east,

realities of time and place,

mosquitoes, blood,

expensive ideas.

Alas, Green Ukraine.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

Torpedoangriff mit Heinkel He111

 

In hopelessness’ bitter embrace

you cling to

the last raft out of

Sevastopol.

Perhaps you will return one day,

more likely you will sink,

your name forgotten.

Black, and gone.

This is life, 1942,

for this, you were born?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat