Archive for the ‘Nina (Subset)’ Category

Condoleezza Rice followed me

as I walked through Foggy Bottom.

Smart woman,

she knows something.

I am a sleeping giant…

Let me lie.

Let me dream.

When I’m ready,

I will rise.

Ipso facto,

leave me be…

let me deal,

let me rest,

let me heal.


I had, I am sure,

an abnormal childhood and adolescence.

A product of who, when and where I am from,

external manipulations,

my sensitivities.

I saw the movie Grandview USA in 1993.

It was new to me.

I felt like I belonged, somehow.

From the opening credits, homely, inviting,

I felt at ease.

I wanted to be the girl in the bikini

with the Frisbee

(hard to believe?),



I hoped things hadn’t changed too much

in the almost decade

since the film had been made.


I wanted a home.

I could dream.



Define dream.

Define reality.

Somewhere in New York City,

on a TV set,

in a room,

a state of mind,

beyond Brighton Beach…



a grandiose statement was made

about destiny shaking hands with history.

… Really?

Like, wow!

And, how…

And, this production was brought to you by the ghosts of Leni Riefenstahl and Rosa Luxemburg.

Read, kids, read, believe and intercede!


Lies slip from her lips

like water down a mountainside.

Slick rock face.

Summer thunder storm.

Slippery slope

to doom.


You look at the photo and wince,

it’s you, in another life,

ten years since,

you look so young and happy,

you can’t remember it,

water under the bridge, so much shit.

So long,

come and gone.

Betrayal, hard luck,


It’s futile,

but you wonder,

which is the real you,

then or now?


Turku Athletics.

Beautiful warm Summer night.

Navels on display.


Respite in cocoon,

sanctuary, a darkened room,

handful of dirt falls.


Mustering a plan,

a way forward, improvement,

strength, perchance to grow.


Blink, my eyes open,

and I can’t see anything,

dirt falls, blinds my all.



decimated by army,

humans and catches.


Toilet flushes hope,

lost in pipework and sewers,

Oh, the great things lost!


She lay down,

on the floor,

in a darkened room.

She asked herself, repeatedly:

“What is the way forward?”

Racing mind, confused and throbbing head,

by the tenth repetition

she changed the question to:

“Is there a way forward?”

She moved her left hand downwards.

Imagining herself,

something else,

she fell asleep,



The beauty pageant,

Ugly in so many ways,

Has its devotees.


Distraction is death,

a soul-seeping perfidy,

online, adverts, “friends”…