Archive for the ‘History’ Category

Fuck posterity,

it didn’t exist yesterday.

History is tomorrow.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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New York is enraptured

as Jimmy Connors is more of an asshole than ever,

and

the USSR is crumbling apart.

Momentous.

Cavernous pit,

all utter shit…

Captivating,

compulsive

trainwreck in motion,

where will it end?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

History and terror.

Who knows what was true?

Can you trust perspective?

If you were there, passion and fear,

ashes,

blood,

and guts.

For the others:

words, time,

rust…

Detachment changes meaning

and books

gather

dust.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

History is written by the victors,

so they say.

Actually,

it’s often written by the aggrieved,

those who are sufficiently motivated to

make the point,

to explain their pain.

History,

raison d’être,

as one is yesterday

and today.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Happy Anniversary!

Do you remember youthful days at the beach?

“We must celebrate and protect

what was collectively gained,

prosperity will flow,

perpetual

cycle

of

pain…”

Tomorrow a cheap passage across the Atlantic,

mixed with Eisenhower’s chagrin.

Hurrah!

Ride the wave, let’s begin,

together we’ll go far,

around the world

and back again.

Military…

Industrial…

Complex.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Casanova and Byron,

bastards both, apparently.

Literally and figuratively.

A TV documentary informed.

*Bastard*?

A repulsive word,

somehow back in fashion,

inappropriately,

nastily

applied,

like cunt,

and a virgin

touched

for the fifteenth time.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Free speech on one side of the border means practically the opposite of the other.

Free? Yes, if it’s acceptable to the powers that be.

*Free?*

Not really.

They declare:

Choose which side you’re on.

Renounce as applicable,

past despicable.

I despair.

Indeed.

Society loves complicated simplification…

Reinventing the wheel,

toxic, caustic peel.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

“Okay, so our people broke into the ARPANET and, long story short, we now know that Ronald Reagan watched Moscow Does Not Believe In Tears several times so as to ‘better understand the Russian soul’.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Question is, did Reagan cry?”

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

I woke up with a 1 Ruble coin in my hand.

Strange.

How and from whom, unknown.

It fitted perfectly into my hand’s curl,

palm receptive.

I felt its curve and brought it up to my face.

I smelled it, for some reason,

then studied *its* face.

1977, Olympic issue,

3 years hence,

history…

I smiled.

I wonder who held it before me,

this coin,

who bequeathed it,

several times over,

in serendipitous turns,

people,

generally unthinking and banal,

fleeting possession, in exchange…

Maybe to buy toilet paper,

possibly bread,

50 issues of Pravda?

Perhaps Andropov himself…

 

©ddr7hd

 

Is the past ever

truly,

completely past?

 

©ddr7hd