Archive for the ‘Existential Angst’ Category

One day,

the scales fell from my eyes.

It was ugly and frightful.

Life,

viscerally and

visibly

painful.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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Beautiful flowers

grow in a trash heap.

Weeds flourish

in prepared garden beds.

Nature, or humans…

Who decides what is art

and what belongs where?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You pray,

you believe,

you hope.

Life goes on,

people suck you dry.

You get disenchanted,

disappointed

and exhausted.

You pray,

you try to believe,

you want to remember

what hope felt like.

One day you give up.

Soon, you will die.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

There was a window,

but it has shut.

Perhaps tomorrow,

perhaps tonight,

your time will be wasted.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

You and I, we do our best,

we try

to do the right thing.

But everyone

and everything is against us,

(ourselves included).

… Hope springs eternal

For the deluded.

Indeed, history today…

I want to be still

and close my eyes,

meditate on another reality,

eschew fealty.

… Unfinished business…

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

At school

your children are learning about our way of life,

as somebody sees it.

(Way of life?

I scoff!

You think we have a *way* of “life”?)

Like brutal Buddhists, perhaps,

who can sentence you to hell on earth

or put you to death

because it is not really the end

(conscience clear),

you will be reborn as a grasshopper.

Way of life and death,

endless cycle of impossible,

beyond apprehension,

outside human comprehension.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

In my earnest endeavors tomorrow and yesterday,

I am reminded again:

the only person you can rely on is yourself,

and then,

only some of the time.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

In my earnest endeavors to be more authentic,

I fear I am presenting as

a parody of myself.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Increasingly desperate,

I flail my arms,

I push buttons.

My intentions genuine,

ardent, needy.

The results,

inconsistent,

out of my hands.

Alas, despair…

People, systems,

no one cares!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Sometime during the TV commercials,

somewhere in between ads for life insurance, sports betting and pantyliners,

she decided to slit her wrists.

Driven to madness.

Society story.

The end.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat