Archive for the ‘La désenchantée’ Category

Luna Eclipse 2 (2)

Peaceful man, thwarted plan.

The powers that be, apparently do not profit from humanity’s peaceful coexistence. It seems they do all they can to sow division, envy, misunderstanding, jealousy, avarice, competition, hatred… They shit-stir, so we see enemies and threats in every shadowy corner… Whatever it takes to keep us fighting for some nebulous, consumerist goal, alleged progress; all the way to the grave. Alas, most of us “buy it”.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Broken 3

Your pain is the same, probably worse,

when undiagnosed, unrecognized,

versus that of the lauded patient.

Alas, it seems fated for some people

to get all the sympathy,

and others, alone, none.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Pied Piper

So, “back to normal”,

or forward to something worse?

Leadership gambles…

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Medici Famiglia_ Gio Maria Butteri

“That’s Entertainment!”

Proclaimed, harmless diversion.

… Tonight’s perversion?

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Dozhd, Okno

As the rain continues to fall, soaking and complicating,

it desecrates my soul.

Floods and damage here,

droughts and devastation there.

I pray for some happy medium, for everyone.

I pray for burnt koalas in faraway trees.

Alas, if I can’t pray to, believe and rely on Jesus, then what?

This world and it’s people are fucked!

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Walking Away, Alone, Snow

Alienated…

I gave up on the future,

some time in the past.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

White Sea–Baltic Canal, 1932 v2

One feels compelled to get up early and get on,

to push and strive, catch the worm.

This is good and decent,

godly, they imply,

this is progress.

Pourquoi, I ask: a repeat of yesterday,

or worse?

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Mormon Tabernacle Choir 2

His accent is thick, difficult for me to understand.

He says something about being a proud working class rebel, as he takes another drink.

This too is hard for me to understand. I reply, candidly: “Rebel, for getting drunk at the weekend? Briefly forgetting the wretchedness of your plight. Dreaming of a summer holiday. And going back to the miserable grind on Monday? Following orders and expectations. Isn’t that exactly what the ruling classes want you to do?”

He blinked, rubbed his forehead and said, suddenly very clear: “Go get fucked, you Commie cunt!”

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Clanging Cymbals

Today’s  accepted wisdom

seems to me so astoundingly stupid,

destructive, self-centered, brash,

as loud clanging cymbals, distracting,

hollow, shallow, contradictory, confusing,

and surely beyond expiry date.

(Deep breath)

… Hopefully we are alive tomorrow,

to laugh at today, wryly,

meditatively communing,

in peace.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Arbeit macht unfrei

Bombardment of words,

and questions for which there is no good answer.

Constant rule changes for no good reason.

Voices chattering, commanding, pecking, nagging.

Confusion, panic, gut-wrenching meaninglessness.

Head spins, throbs,

gray matter seems to be melting like cheese.

… Another day at the office.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat