Archive for the ‘Existential Angst’ Category

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Pressure comes in myriad forms.

You don’t truly realize mine,

I don’t yours.

Regardless, in its grip we suffer:

Battered, bruised, traumatized.

Pressurized!

Something’s got to give.

Under pressure, I resign,

scatter the pieces off the board!

Enough of half-truths, banalities and exploitation!

*Id* wants to go home.

(I herewith refuse to answer my phone.)

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lucretia, Suicide 5a

Life sucks and then you die,

perceptive teenager cries,

adult winces.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Bleeding Heart, Arrow

Making the world a better place,

as you feel compelled, today.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul, as they say.

But who decides which is which, the worthiest?

Alas, tomorrow’s perspective will be different.

Perhaps, at best,

we can complicate each other out of existence.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Wm in Ruins, Berlin, 1945_ Yevgeny Khaldei

I watch the downfall, and I cry …

Strange,

when surely I should rejoice

at the demise

of the one who made themselves my mortal enemy,

but in their hollow eyes, I see myself.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Alenka, Migren, Rabbit Hole

Life manifest,

perfidy and surprise,

series of endless disappointments,

darkness and flashing lights.

… Confusion and delusion,

enlightenment and despair.

… In fallen world, we fall.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

8.10 Digitized Sky Survey

I was in a good place – body and mind.

Happy in moment, and looking forward.

But someone or other,

directly, or indirectly,

decided that I didn’t belong,

that I was an interloper in this good place,

that I didn’t matter.

Violate, desecrate, rip heart out and shatter!

The other hasn’t gained from my misery,

beyond hollow, morbid pleasure,

sufficient, alas, for human nature.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Starry Night Sky, Trees (Rus)

Winter night.

I go out and look at the sky.

Stars abundant and bright.

I’m impressed, as always,

natural wonderment at firmament,

but distracted, as artificial flashing lights

catch my eye. … Aircraft.

And the moment is lost.

Now, all I can focus on

is the banal, the human where and why.

(Where are they going, and why? …

As if this fallen world is so great!)

I am glad, at least, that human travel in space is minimal

and am mindful enough to pray it remains so.

For, where people go,

they tend to destroy,

exploit,

desecrate.

Even in their dreams.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Another woman, another time and place,

another version of me,

I need to be free,

my soul seared,

constantly chased,

I try to flee.

… Her withering glare of contempt.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

16XX Daumenschraube 2

Tired, so tired,

of what someone does or doesn’t do,

turning the screw, and making me bleed.

Whether they realize, or care,

it’s killing me.

I think, therefore I am: Unhappy!

I curse the fulfilment they find in banality.

They sneer at the strange “loser”

who keeps to herself.

We each wish the other had been

drowned at birth.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Sometimes… You’re sure of your brilliance,

scintillating wisdom obvious.

Sometimes… Banality tips the balance,

and you realize yourself an empty vessel,

drained by drudgery,

as you grope in the dark,

no hope …

… What chance light switch?

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat