Archive for the ‘Hladnirat’ Category

Altai, Belukha, Panthera…

Between the wars

and naked terror.

Power plays,

assertions, suggestions.

Insults fester,

sting forever.

Everyone knows best,

the enemy less.

Between the wars,

between the lines,

generations battle,


wisdom slides,



Humiliation is the key.




I was ready to offer an olive branch,


but you decided to be honest,

speaking your views of me,


Ipso facto

and fokus-pokus…

… Hopes of rapprochement,


Cold war freezes.




Happy Anniversary!

Do you remember youthful days at the beach?

“We must celebrate and protect

what was collectively gained,

prosperity will flow,





Tomorrow a cheap passage across the Atlantic,

mixed with Eisenhower’s chagrin.


Ride the wave, let’s begin,

together we’ll go far,

around the world

and back again.







MacGyver got drunk.

’twas a long and taxing day.





Live to fight another day.

Correct some wrong,


(What more do I have to say?


Cold Warrior,

Here to stay!)


The British thought they were *something*.


They were beneath Soviet espionage,

we left them to the GDR.

The system wants to degrade, implicitly & explicitly.

The British are masters of degradation

and manipulation,

they are the ultimate class and caste system enforcers,

they love misinformation,

they think it is comedy.

Cold and damp,

we did what we could.


He ran up to me, excitedly, like he was greeting a long-lost friend or a minor celebrity (the kind you can actually approach).

“It’s you, isn’t it? I know it is! From Polski Natura 1986! I recognize you.”

“Uh, yeah, what?” I said, somewhat taken aback. “In any case, yes, it is me.”

“Wow, how time flies! How things have changed, the world, ideas, right, left, right, wrong and geopolitics! But not you – you still look so much the same, even dressed, you haven’t got old…” he gushed, eyes wide. “Oh, how I wish for those times back again. We thought we were wandering in the wilderness, a desert, waiting for the promised land, only later did I realize it was actually a beautiful beach in the middle of summer and it was the best time of our lives.”

I smiled and nodded, bemused and saddened, because I knew what he was talking about.



And there we were, sitting around the camp fire,

patiently discussing the differences between Joe 3 and Joe 4,

small flames flickering,

some light cast upon us,

shapes and flashes of illumination.

Comforting darkness prevalent,

masking our facial expressions,

what may be seen as our intentions,

the occasional eye roll and sneer.

We talk.

We discuss.

We discover.

We find we talk more openly,

when obscured and allowed

some secrecy.


Moskva ’80,

Zapad ’81.

You act,

we react,

it’s a matter of fact.

Get with the program!

You hate,

we abhor.

And wait for LA ’84.


The place I am from,

we don’t have washing machines:

we do it by hand.


Croatia and nudity,

like bread and butter.