Archive for the ‘Mira’ Category

Cherishing peace and quiet as much as I do,

I screamed: “SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

as loud as I possibly could.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

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How can people so far apart

be neighbors?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

When your time of contemplation

becomes a thing of expectation…

beware

and despair,

you’re no longer “there”.

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

Radio Free Moscow, you say.

A much needed antidote to Radio Free Europe Radio Liberty?

Or just more of the same,

repackaged,

another name?

Moscow, Idaho, you clarify.

America?

Huh?

Don’t they have missiles pointed at us?

Or, is that Moscow, Iowa?

Maybe, Moscow, Pennsylvania?

 

©SvetkaSamizdat

 

The child’s face showed she didn’t approve.

It wasn’t sweet, true,

but I liked it.

Perhaps my taste was moderated,

I reasoned,

by an adult’s appreciation of cost, convenience and health.

Indeed, adult considerations.

As I reflected upon such realities

the juice tasted better

and better,

beyond banalities.

Such is life.

Get used to it, kid!

 

©ddr7hd

 

In captivity.

Alone,

since the last public torture,

the only audible voice my own

… whispers.

In peace (in a shitty little cell).

Safe from the madding masses.

Alone with my thoughts.

I inhale and exhale,

It’s beautiful to be aware of my every breath.

In peace.

At peace.

Solitary confinement.

Time and space to think.

It’s the ultimate in introspection!

Or is that just what they want me to think?

My captors, my manipulators,

they’ve been leaving me alone,

letting me be.

Indeed,

there’s always someone pulling the strings.

 

Happy New Year!

The alarm sounded.

I got up, went to the bathroom,

pissed,

rinsed my mouth out,

and drank two glasses of water.

Back,

I switched the TV on.

BR, naturally.

Tele-Gym.

Nina Winkler.

Indeed.

I did my thing.

Panoramabilder would be next.

Comforting, somehow.

Like Alpine mountains.

Beautiful,

reliability, of sorts.

We seek stasis

and maintenance,

of youth and sanity,

in this temporal realm

of the transient,

of transience.

We try.

We don’t want to die.

We don’t anything we care about to die.

We try.

We do what we can.

We eschew publicly-stated plans,

like resolutions and manifestos,

knowing “the other” will use it as ammunition,

cause for demolition.

No fireworks, please,

use the expense more wisely!

Indeed.

Peace,

silence

and

Happy New Year.

 

Everyone hates Ukrainians,

apparently,

read history and news.

They all have a reason,

Poles, Jews, Russians, the EU.

… And you?

Me, I try to escape.

I go to the Pentathlon World Championships.

It’s Moskva (Raz, dva, tri!)…

The action is good and honest.

But, shit!

The Ukrainian has a gun,

pointing straight at everyone.

The poster is loud and clear, I turn away in fear.

Propaganda,

Impulses and repulses,

We miss the years of Soyuz,

In a sense,

Pain and defence,

We flinch…

but, please,

most of all,

can we remember,

fashion,

imagine,

the things we share,

like

peace,

and

recognize,

matter of fact

… we don’t have to be enemies?

 

Pamyat.

Memory.

History.

Both sides of the barricade,

border,

divide,

and everywhere in between,

we all have Pamyat,

feeling and belief.

Yesterday,

today,

tomorrow,

we can respect our Pamyat

and respect each other,

maybe,

with hope and charity,

honoring the commandment,

that we love one another,

as He has loved us.

Indeed,

indeed and in fact,

the Savior has been provided,

God born as flesh,

and Sacrificed.

Humans,

however divided,

… we don’t have to be enemies.

 

Samantha Smith visited me last night,

my how she has grown!

She smiled knowingly

and reminded me that we’re all the same,

just inconsistent

in application, desire, situation, desperation, and focus,

time and place,

depending who our neighbours are,

and whether we’ve been used and abused,

discarded.

Apart from that, we’re all pretty much the same,

she smiled, simpering coquettish, arms akimbo,

as she whispered: “fucked and forgotten”.

She drank a glass of red wine,

then another,

as we talked.

I asked her about life and death,

she said she’d finally found peace.

She pause appropriately,

silent.

Stupidly, I felt compelled to fill what I mistook for a void:

“Current affairs?” I ventured.

“No thank you!” she exclaimed.

So,

we played a word-association game,

something a Freudian taught her,

intelligent fun.

Indeed.

On and on.

Late,

alas,

it had been a long day and night,

though stimulated,

tiredness hit and

I fell asleep.

Strange dreams inside the goldmine…

An hour or two later

I awoke and she was gone.