Archive for the ‘La désenchantée’ Category

Starry Night Sky, Trees (Rus)

Winter night.

I go out and look at the sky.

Stars abundant and bright.

I’m impressed, as always,

natural wonderment at firmament,

but distracted, as artificial flashing lights

catch my eye. … Aircraft.

And the moment is lost.

Now, all I can focus on

is the banal, the human where and why.

(Where are they going, and why? …

As if this fallen world is so great!)

I am glad, at least, that human travel in space is minimal

and am mindful enough to pray it remains so.

For, where people go,

they tend to destroy,

exploit,

desecrate.

Even in their dreams.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

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Perfidy_ Flowers & Knife

Enemies, and friends,

family members, near and dear,

*will* stab you in back.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

NZ_ Rotorua

Hope springs eternal (so they say).

Or, at least, it tries to.

But when our experience tells us otherwise,

threshold crossed,

overwhelmed by betrayal and lies,

that part inside, bleeding, dies.

We don’t want to be hurt anymore:

who can blame us for that?

… Hope springs, yes,

then spits in face,

disappoints,

evaporates.

Good bye.

 

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Kara Daga, Krym

Strange:

they don’t seem to mind making an enemy of me.

… One day they’ll be sorry.

Let me state clearly:

I write for the disenchanted, the hurting,

the violated, the betrayed.

I write for you.

I write for me.

(To be continued…)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Girl Pisses Herself 2

Fundamentally, in this fallen world,

we like to see people…

humiliated.

This is our joy.

If we are fortunate,

we will sleep through it.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

2014.01.29

Nothing is impossible,

it seems,

except improvement

of situation.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Perfidy_ Flowers & Knife

I’m breathing

and I’m living,

not exactly as expected,

or hoped,

perhaps.

Nonetheless…

Twists and turns of life,

of knives in back,

after all,

will screw with potential,

dreams,

and glasses half full.

People

and perfidy.

Do you really want to know

what the future holds?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

privichka_grizt_seba

Where once there was possibility,

now there is misery.

Life.

Hope.

Memories.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Garbo

“We all got the same 24 hours in a day,”

TV Man says (hubris and chagrin),

“You want to succeed, people?

Stop complaining and

organize your time!”

Maybe TV Man don’t realize,

care,

or understand why,

Maria’s got three jobs.

(This is the Dream?)

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

 

 

 

 

Pie In Face

I’m in the hotel room,

watching TV, sound turned down.

A fat Englishman is allowing himself to be humiliated,

he’s a comedian, overly well paid,

and the spectacle, I gather,

is for charity.

So, everybody is laughing and cheering raucously,

pleased to be participating in a good cause,

self-righteously glowing.

I can tell this without hearing the English words or general TV noise,

which would only confuse and repulse me.

I can also tell that somewhere nearby, tomorrow,

in a schoolyard, a playground, a city street,

a child, or several,

will be tortured by their classmates,

pretend friends,

who right now are smirking,

inspired by this comedy show.

Charity indeed.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat