Chapter 112: Storm, Yesterday & Tomorrow, Taints

The storm fills every crevice of my being,

pounding, bludgeoning my body and soul,

destroying my faith in nature

(whatever that means).

The wind roars, non-stop invective,

insulting, it seems, all that is holy,

as the rain continues to fall in torrents,

deluge, destroying, flooding,

washing away all hope.

The storm fills every crevice of my being,

what’s worse, I know it’ll still be with me tomorrow,

mocking, in calmness and sunshine,

its effects and its essence will linger.

 

(To be continued…)

               

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 50: Sufficient, Alas, For Human Nature

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

…

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 35: On Being Seen, and Seared

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

…

 

 

 

 

 

To Sleep, Perchance To Explain (Alas, Scientists Still Struggle)

Something happened.

I did something in reply.

“Everyday” life.

Exhausted, again, I sleep.

Sleeping giant? (I can dream…)

Sleeping dog? (Best to let lie…)

Who can tell from the outside?

Perhaps tomorrow will help.

Regardless, better a live dog (even if sleeping),

than a dead lion.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Dripping, Seeping…

The tap keeps dripping…

Relentless,

remorseless,

uncaring, it seems,

that with each additional drip,

it is stealing another piece of my life.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Insecure Existence

Desperately seeking security,

we embrace opportunities,

and perversities.

Deception we realize too late

as, gutted, we lie,

unmarked grave.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Gutful

Sometimes you’ve had too much

(a gutful)

before you’ve even begun.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…

 

 

 

 

 

Respectfully, Complicated & Compromised, I Fall Down

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

…

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine Fades…

Nothing’s really changed,

but it sure feels like it,

now that I have seen,

perceived, experienced,

loss and death.

Sunshine fades,

pale memories.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

…