Archive for the ‘Existential Angst’ Category

Georgii Brousentsov - Au bord de l'eau

I see art,

and it’s beautiful.

The creation is truly a sensation!

But I understand what most men see,

on the wall,

in their souls,

and what they feel…

Base arousal.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Drpping Tap (RTL.Au)

The tap keeps dripping…

Relentless,

remorseless,

uncaring, it seems,

that with each additional drip,

it is stealing another piece of my life.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Tumbleweed, Desert

Inspiration lost,

banality found,

welcome to “the real world”,

life on the ground.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Towel Thrown In, Boxing Ring

On reflection, after the matter of fact,

I preferred it when, in ignorance and hope,

I thought that happiness,

and fulfilment of potential,

was still possible.

… Tomorrow,

I don’t feel inclined to try …

(Always someone’s waiting

to bring you down!)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Fetal Position 1

Desperately seeking security,

we embrace opportunities,

and perversities.

Deception we realize too late

as, gutted, we lie,

unmarked grave.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Stressed

Questions

for which there are no good answers…

Everyday compromises…

You try to quiet the voices in your mind,

your soul,

they are pleading for something higher.

You convince yourself

(for the sake of sanity and “survival”)

that this living hell

is normal.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

5.10

Sometimes you’ve had too much

(a gutful)

before you’ve even begun.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Uvy

Every year it gets harder and harder to commemorate

the event,

not because *it* means less to me,

but rather as, the longer I live,

*everything* seems more and more meaningless.

… There is a difference.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Pacific (Tikhiy)

Allison Guyot?

A beautiful sounding name,

Pacific Ocean bliss,

I want to go,

metaphysical

holiday.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Wonder Wm chloroformed & kidnapped

They called it a breakdown.

I call it an epiphany,

a realization of futility.

My eyes are wide open.

How I wish I could sleep again!

 

©SvetkaSamizdat